My dna has Mustang encoded into it. Before I existed, my father purchased a midnight blue 1966 Mustang. I played in that car as a child and figured out at a very early age that depressing the clutch would allow the car to roll. I was fascinated by the footwork and gear shifts that made that car move. When I finally had a driver’s license, that car became my obsession. It was rarely dirty and never without a waxy shine. After a few years, I wanted to own another so I purchased a 1990 black GT. The obsession continued with both ponies, but I eventually had to part with my ’66. The ’90 and I had a nice long run of 12 years together and when the 2005 was revealed, I knew I had to have one. I once again had two Mustangs but this time for only a few hours before the ’90 went to a new home. Now here we are 10 years later and the 2015 is calling my name. I cannot wait to get another order in the queue for the only car I have ever driven. Thank you Mustang!