When I got my first job, I started saving money, and after a few embarrasing weeks of having to get rides to work from my mother, I decided I needed a car.
So we went all over Kelowna, looking through dealerships, test driving cars. I almost ended up with a Neon.
Then we found this one place, way back behind a battery store. The lot was full of overpriced junk, but we looked anyays. I was walking down the row when I saw the front end of a car I’d never seen before. It looked really worn down, the plastic bumper skin was sagging and the robin’s egg blue paint was tremendously faded. But I felt drawn to it, so I walked through the other cars to see it.
It was rusty, and faded, and battered, even worse up close, but I saw the little white lettering on the quarter window: “Mustang”. Being this close I also noticed it had a Huge aftermarket hood-scoop, and through it, one could see the carbeurator and top half of a V8. I got a little excited. This car spoke to me on a deep, primal level. It looked dangerous, mental, and completely unconcerned with the well-being of anyone crazy enough to get behind the wheel. It wanted to kill me, and I dared it to try.
The guy who ran the place noticed me ogling this old piece of crap and came out to greet us. I asked him if it ran. So he runs off to get the keys, and my mother starts telling me how irresponsible I am for wanting a sports car.
He returns, and after a bit of fiddling, gets the Mustang to start. The sound was like thunder, crackling and splitting the earth, the bass thumping my chest, it was like the awakening of a beast.
I just had to take it for a test drive.
They let me go alone, the fools. Put a 16 yearold in charge of a Five Liter V8 sports car with no supervision… what could happen, right?
At the first intersection, I was turning left, waiting for traffic to clear. There was a gap, so I punched the throttle. The carb flooded and the car stalled, engine still turning, and crawled into the intersection. I didn’t know what to do…. and then the engine turned once more and fired up.
At full throttle…
The car leapt forward, tires burning, and drifted sideways through the intersection, cutting off a few angry motorists and leaving a trail of smoke and burnt rubber. A few people honked, and some kids were staring at me like I was driving the fastest car in the world. I kept
And that’s when I knew: I had to have this car.
Since then I’ve been a Mustang guy, and I now own another Foxbody, the Capri RS, which is my project car. I may not have my First Mustang anymore, but it certainly wasn’t my last.