Its been not quite ninety
days since the Mustang entered my garage. The new-ness has worn off
and the quirks and idiosyncrasies by now have reared their heads. I
am still a bit shocked to see it in the garage when I go out there. I
do, however, think it belongs there. It looks right.
The
only other car I can recall pining for over such a long period of
time was my 1970 Fiat 124 Spider. As my teenage years began I spent
endless hours scouring car magazines searching for the perfect
vehicle to be my first car. I had always wanted a sports car in the
traditional sense. Two seats, four cylinder engine, convertible top
and of course a manual gearbox. One lucky day while perusing
periodicals at the local convenience store I found an issue of Car
and Driver that compared every
convertible available at the time (this was in the mid-1970s). The
authors warned that the convertible was probably doomed because of
government safety regulations and that we should get one while we
could. Comparing everything from the VW Beetle to a Rolls-Royce
Corniche I was surprised at the final results. The magazine chose the
Fiat 124 Spider as the best overall convertible, soundly trouncing my
prior favorites the MGB and Triumph Spitfire. I read everything I
could about the budget Italian car and ultimately decided that it
would be the necessary chariot to carry me into adulthood.
Reality
turned out to be temporarily different. My father, assuming because
he was sharing in the financing of a vehicle for my use would also
have a say in what it would be. The sports car, I was told, would not
be. Instead I found myself piloting a 1971 Jeep Commando. Much could
be written about my relationship with that vehicle and perhaps some
day I shall. Suffice it to say that it did nothing to quench my
thirst for a proper sports car. Eventually, I did purchase a forlorn
example of the coveted Fiat for the princely sum of $300. Would
reality equal the dream I had conjured up in all those years leading
up to ownership?
In
many ways it did. Keeping in mind that my standards at the time were
tremendously low. Getting the proper kind of car trumped the actual
condition of my example. Through the lens of adulthood I can only
shake my head at the gallons of plastic filler and tractor paint that
hid the numerous perforated sins of the tired body. Having no
mechanical expertise at that age it befell my father to suffer through
innumerable troubles with the brakes and electrics trying to keep the
thing functioning. But the dream of top down motoring and how
wonderful it must be was realized the first time I took the wretched
little car for a summer drive. It proved heavenly, and I overlooked
the car's innumerable flaws for several years until the rot finally
claimed it. And then I bought another...and kept it for 23 years.
I
had desired various flavors of Mustangs over the years but realized
the shortcomings of older ones, particularly those that had not been
restored to a condition vastly better than Dearborn had cranked out
originally. As I noted in my first entry, S197 solved most of the
reasons I found to avoid Mustang ownership. The car was beautiful,
modern and reliable. Still, I had to wonder if ten years of longing
would be sufficiently rewarded driving one every day.
The
happy news is: yes. In fact, I probably enjoy the car more today than
I did my first week of ownership. The interior is quiet with no
squeaks or rattles. The ride is taught without being jarring and the
steering is responsive. I love looking at the dash. The 4.0 V6 has
proven wonderfully torque-y and above adequate for normal driving
while repelling the juvenile hooliganism I know would be the norm if
I had gone for the V8. The six has kept me from being stupid while at
the same time not insulting me.
There
are things I would change, of course. The transmission is a bit
clunky compared to the European cars I grew up with and the clutch is
heavy for a hydraulic unit. The tires are far too narrow and lose
grip too easily. The brakes are adequate but nothing more and the
solid rear axle never lets you forget it is along for the ride. Minor
annoyances, all of them, and even as a whole do not cause me real
displeasure. Overall, I am surprised how much I actually do like it.
Expecting it to be a vehicle to satisfy a whim I now regard it as a
probable long-term relationship. If I wear this one out I would
probably buy another. Time will tell. It is wonderful though to find
that sometimes the reality is actually not that far from the
perception.
