I remember the day my father gave me the car that was given to him. A 1965 Convertible Mustang. I remember him driving the car and myself in the passenger side. I was 15 when he passed it down to me, It might not be the sexiest thing,but I love that car. It obligated me to grow up a little faster, get a job, and be a little more social. Now, I’ve owned a good amount of Mustangs, but none like my first.