When you point the nose of a brand-new Ford Expedition west out of Florida bound for Dallas – via Charlotte, Atlanta, Nashville and Memphis – you’re signing up for serious mileage.
Five states. Thousands of kilometres. Endless interstates. For an Australian driver more accustomed to the Hume or Pacific Highway, the scale alone is enough to raise an eyebrow.
Now add Ford’s hands-off, self-driving BlueCruise system into the equation.
Full disclosure: there was hesitation. The idea of taking your hands off the wheel at 70 miles per hour (around 110km/h) in a three-tonne SUV isn’t something that comes naturally.
Australians tend to pride themselves on being hands-on drivers — especially on long hauls. The thought of letting a system steer, brake and accelerate felt, initially, like stepping into the unknown.
The first activation happened on a wide Florida interstate. A button press, a subtle chime, and the steering wheel icon glowed blue. BlueCruise was live. Hands came off – cautiously at first – hovering centimetres from the wheel like a learner driver not quite trusting the instructor.
Trust is a big word when it comes to describing the BlueCruise experience. Trust always comes with time, not after a few minutes of interstate driving. After two weeks of experimenting, that certainly improved.
Within minutes, the nerves eased. Although changing traffic conditions certainly continually got my attention.
BlueCruise operates on pre-mapped divided highways across the United States and uses a combination of cameras, radar and GPS data to manage lane positioning and adaptive cruise control.
Importantly, it also monitors the driver’s gaze to ensure eyes remain on the road. Look away too long and the system politely insists you refocus. It’s assistance, not abdication.
Heading north into Georgia, traffic thickened around Atlanta — the sort of multi-lane chaos that can test even seasoned drivers. Here, BlueCruise genuinely impressed.
It held lane position smoothly, adjusted speed progressively with traffic flow, and avoided the abrupt braking that plagues lesser adaptive cruise systems. Instead of the usual mental fatigue of urban interstate driving, the experience felt composed and surprisingly calm.
By the time the Expedition rolled into the long Tennessee stretches towards Nashville and Memphis, hesitation had turned into appreciation. On sweeping bends and open highway runs, the system delivered a steady, almost limousine-like glide. It wasn’t robotic; it was refined.
It was like driving my lounge suite across the US.
BlueCruise feels like a significant step forward in usability. It’s not a gimmick that works for 30 seconds before disengaging. It stays active for extended highway sections, reducing the micro-corrections and constant throttle adjustments that typically wear drivers down over multi-hour stints.
That reduction in fatigue became the real story of the trip.
Normally, a Florida-to-Dallas run – especially broken into legs through the Carolinas, Georgia and Tennessee – would leave shoulders tight and concentration fading by day’s end.
Instead, stepping out in Nashville for a barbecue stop or rolling into Memphis for an Elvis hit felt noticeably less draining. The system doesn’t remove responsibility, but it meaningfully reduces strain.
The Expedition itself played its part. The cabin is expansive, quiet and unapologetically American in scale. For Australians used to large SUVs, this is large-plus. Yet despite its size, the combination of BlueCruise and well-weighted steering made it feel manageable rather than cumbersome.
By the time Dallas appeared on the horizon, what began with scepticism had evolved into genuine respect. BlueCruise didn’t replace the joy of driving — it reframed it. Long interstate miles became less about endurance and more about efficiency and comfort.
A bit like a stack of early morning pancakes at the local Wafflehouse!
For Australians watching the rapid development of advanced driver assistance systems, this road trip offered a glimpse of what extended-distance touring could one-day feel like at home.
And perhaps most tellingly, after thousands of kilometres across America’s heartland, there was one lingering thought:
If this is the future of highway driving, it’s arriving faster than we think — and it’s surprisingly easy to get used to.
Although I am not sure the benefits would ever replace the feeling of personally guiding a big SUV rig though a stretch of cool rolling Tennessee mountains. Sometimes a couple of miles an hour over the speed limit.
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