Grand Tour Ford Raptor Episode -

“Look at it,” Jeremy beamed, patting its bulging fender like a prized bull. “It’s got ‘Baja’ written on the side. It’s got a skid plate the size of a cricket pitch. It has foxes . Live foxes, I think, bouncing around inside the suspension. This isn’t a car. It’s a small, angry planet.”

Here’s a fun, detailed story based on The Grand Tour Season 3, Episode 2 (titled “The Colombia Special”), which famously featured the Ford F-150 Raptor alongside a Chevrolet Silverado ZR2 and a Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. The Amazonian sun hadn’t even risen over the Colombian mountains, but Jeremy Clarkson was already yelling. Not at Richard Hammond or James May—yet—but at a recalcitrant can of coffee. “It’s frozen,” he grumbled, shaking the tin. “It’s the equator . How is it frozen?” grand tour ford raptor episode

Then came the Raptor. Clarkson, channeling his inner Baja champion, decided that finesse was for people who didn’t have 450 horsepower. He hit the river at speed. The Raptor launched off a submerged rock, hung in the air for a glorious, terrifying second—Jeremy’s face a perfect O of panic and joy—and then slammed down into a four-foot-deep hole. “Look at it,” Jeremy beamed, patting its bulging

The final insult came on a flat, dusty plain. Here, the Raptor was finally in its element. Hammond was bouncing around in the Jeep, feeling every pebble. May in the Chevy was complaining about the ride quality. Jeremy, meanwhile, was floating on a cloud of Fox Racing suspension, hitting washboard roads at 70 mph as if he were on a magic carpet. It has foxes

But physics, and The Grand Tour , always have the last laugh. The Raptor’s sheer size, which was its superpower on the open desert, became its kryptonite on the final “bridge”—two rotten logs laid over a swamp. The Jeep danced across. The Chevy tip-toed. The Raptor’s front tires went on the logs, and the back tires… went on either side. The result was a 6,000-pound pickup performing an unplanned, slow-motion split, its belly resting on the mud while its wheels spun helplessly.

Jeremy, sweating, had the Raptor’s passenger-side tires on the sheer rock wall and the driver’s-side mirrors scraping the abyss. “It fits perfectly,” he grunted, as a loud CRACK signaled the death of a mirror housing. “That was a… a warning branch.”

“It doesn’t fit ,” Hammond cackled from his narrow, nimble Jeep, which was threading through the gaps like a sewing machine needle.