JOHNTHOMAS
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- Apr 14, 2008
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- Somerset, Ky
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Classic Mustang a rough beauty
When I read this article I can't help but think about the times I've read on this forum how they aren't making tractors like they used to which always brings a grin to my face. I love the old days and the memories of the old days. I also try to be a realist and admit that things actually weren't necessarily better in the old days, just different. I also remember the truth about old cars as seen in this article and I've had over a hundred in my short 46 buying years which didn't start until I was 17. I'm sure the owners of older tractors can remember the truth about them, if they will, and give the input that newer ones are better overall. I won't trade my newer ones for older ones.
As Detroit revs up for the Woodward Dream Cruise, I desperately wanted to get behind the wheel of a classic and take her for a spin.
So I promised Manny Lopez, The Detroit News columnist and opinion page editor, a Drive cover for his 1966 Ford Mustang if he'd let me borrow it. Obtaining the keys to a classic car owner's pride and joy can only be done through some sort of bribery. He agreed and off I went in a cream colored '66 Mustang with a red interior.
It's been a while since I've driven a car older than me, and, oh, how the memories rushed back at the first whiff of formerly leaded exhaust. There's a beauty in the mechanical simplicity of these vehicles. Furthermore, this particular Mustang looks outrageously sweet. That long hood, the short deck lid, and a roof that's not even chest high made me swoon when I walked up to it.
I slipped the door/ignition key into the lock and watched the chrome door lock pop up. When was the last time I did that? New cars unlock themselves when I walk up and touch the door handle.
So, here was the moment of truth, I thought, sitting on the red vinyl driver's seat with less support than a chaise lounge beach chair. I turned the key and waited for that engine to roar. It didn't. Then I turned the key again. The starter motor raged against the machine, but nothing else. I sat there, and for a moment hearing my father's voice clear as day, "Don't flood it, Scott. Easy on the gas. Oh, no, its flooded."
I waited for the smell of fresh gas to dissipate. Turned the key, heard the click and felt the vroooom.
Such a lovely sound
Oh, that engine is a symphony of bass and vibrato; it's metal American machismo. It bubbles up your spine every time you hit the accelerator, which on this particular model pretty much acted like an on/off switch. Either I was at full acceleration or none.
This Mustang included a 302 cubic inch V-8 -- no, it's not a Boss 302, which generated 290 horses when it arrived in '69. This particular engine creates around 200+(ish) horsepower. Classic cars come with a lot of fuzzy estimates. Compared to the 2011 Mustang, the '66 version is a weakling. The 2011's 3.7-liter V-6 tosses out 305 horsepower. But figures don't' tell the whole story. When you judge them by sound, the contest isn't even close.
The original's V-8 heads the class. It shakes the driver -- and the entire car -- at idle. Modern Mustangs are so quiet on the road that Ford engineers piped engine noise into the cabin so the driver could enjoy its roar. The '66 Mustang can be heard three blocks away. It sets off car alarms. (It's security system is The Club.)
Open the hood and there's room to work. You could change the oil, plugs and fuel filter without pulling the engine. It's beautiful.
Comparing it to the 2011 Ford Mustang would be like comparing the Wright Flyer to the space shuttle. The original doesn't have a voice-activated stereo system with a Bluetooth connection for hands-free cell phone communication. No, the original doesn't even have FM. You communicate with this car by engine revs and tire chirps.
On the road, the '66 Mustang was exhilaratingly awful. The rear suspension (it is actually a leaf spring set up similar to those found on wooden wagons discarded along the Oregon Trail) made the car sound like someone was in the trunk banging a 20-pound sledge hammer every time you hit a bump. The manual steering requires Popeye-forearm strength, though I did enjoy the 4 inches of play the wheel allowed as you cruised.
There was no nagging shoulder harness strapping me to the car's seat. The lap belt felt as helpful as the ones on airplanes. Really, there were no safety features in this Mustang. Front air bags, side curtain air bags, traction control, stability control, little black boxes and everything else people think are commonplace were not there.
Creature comforts lacking
And forget about cruise control, windshield wipers that can actually remove rain or headlights bright enough to cast a shadow (though I do love the high-beam switch on the floor). All of the creature comforts found in today's Mustang, such as heated supportive seats, LED lights that change colors and cup holders, were then ideas yet to be drawn.
But man, did those guys back then know how to use metal. There's more sparkling iron on the door sills of the '66 Mustang than you'll find inside an entire fleet of today's pony cars. The single iron exterior mirror on the driver's door just looks cool and nothing says "tough" more than a steel dash. Then there's the way the door closes with such crisp authority. Ka-clunk.
Closing the door, however, is also a harrowing experience. The windows can get out of alignment and chrome pieces on the door's window will slap into the rear windows. I still love the small triangle windows on the front, the ones you can open up and flick the cigarette ash out -- just be careful getting into the car because you don't want lose an eye on that pointy end (that almost happened to me twice).
But that's the thing about the classics. The 1966 Mustang is perfectly imperfect. Quibble over the way you smell like gas and oil after driving it or how the lack of air conditioning makes for sweat stains the size of Texarkana on your back -- it doesn't matter. All of that nostalgia in the truck blurs the imperfections and distorts both yesterday and today. No, Detroit doesn't build them like they used to; thank goodness for that.
These cars prove how bad drivers had it back then. The ride was terrible, hot and dirty.
Sure, my forearm fit nicely on the window sill of the '66 Mustang as I rumbled down Michigan Avenue. I felt good and, for a little while, I found myself enjoying memory lane.
But I'm a modern man. I like air conditioning and good fuel economy and a suspension that doesn't require having a chiropractor on retainer.
Nostalgia is a great place to visit, I just wouldn't want to live there.
From The Detroit News: Classic Mustang a rough beauty | detnews.com | The Detroit News
