That’s a mocking phrase that car folks who prefer Chevy tend to invoke when discussing Ford vehicles, implying that “Ford” is actually an acronym whose letters stand for that phrase.
Or, “Fix Or Repair Daily”.
Or my favorite, “F*cked Over Rebuilt Dodge”.
These kinds of things are amusing to a point. There’s one someone cooked up for “Pontiac” where the N stands for a word that’s only referred to nowadays in polite company by the fact that N can stand for it. I wouldn’t use that one, personally.
Now, I have no animus toward Ford vehicles; I actually liked the Taurus back in the day (remember how oval that thing was? And how the interior seemed to be nothing but ovals, ovals everywhere?), and The Wife currently drives a Ford Escape which has been totally fine and is now our main vehicle for any excursion where the Resident Greyhound is joining us. (Which, given The Wife’s insistence on taking Hobbes with us to the farmer’s market lately, has saved me some weekly gas!) My father was a dedicated Chevy guy and often made fun of Fords, but I honestly have no idea if there was anything factual supporting his anti-Ford sentiments back in the day.
I will say this: Ford pickup trucks of a certain vintage are really quite lovely, and let me present as evidence this example that I saw in the parking lot of Knox Farm State Park a while back. This is a truck that has done some work and has seen some stuff. That’s the kind of truck that has been down maybe not a thousand dusty roads, but quite a few. You know those romance movies where a pretty woman from the city ups and moves to a little town in the mountains and finds love? The local Wise Aged Person who is always dispensing True Wisdom is almost certainly driving around in a truck like this.
Anyway, the truck:
