I fell in Love with Mustangs way back in 1978. At George AFB, my trainer Jeff Hofer let me be a “tool passer” as he rebuilt a 1967.
We were busting out the old motor mounts with an impact hammer while beating the socket with 3 lb. sledge. The Craftsman socket split open. I was terrified. Jeff said, “Road trip”. We went to Sears and the tool guy just gave Jeff another. Tool guy said, “We’re not supposed to ask, but how did you do this?” Jeff told him. “That’ll do it.” I’ve been Craftsman ever since.
My dear friend Joyce has a 65 Mustang. She asked for a “favor”. Could I drive her car from one garage to another? I didn’t knock her over because I was passing out with GLEE.
We picked up the car from a garage on Ann Road on the West side of Las Vegas. The first order of business was more gas. I went right instead of left and had to flip a bitch. I had been driving this beauty for about five minutes when I came to a stop at a red light. When it turned green, I tapped the gas like in my KIA.
For the first time in 40 years I popped a wheelie. It could’ve been four inches or four feet. WOW! Not bad for a 200 cu in engine.
I then acquired a highway patrol escort for the six blocks to the gas station.
The trip all the way to the East Side on Lake Meade was uneventful. I did notice that Mustang owners of any year would flash their lights at me.
I got about a dozen thumbs up and seven people took pictures.
There was no room at the Inn when we got there, so we stashed the ‘Stang.
Check back Loyal Readers. This post will continue until I get this muscle car on the highway.