Hello Mustang Brethren, This is a picture of my first Mustang back in 1987. The young motorhead taking the engine out of her is my husband Mark before he was my husband, back in the summer of '88. We let that car go back then, little did we know. I vowed I would have another one again some day. This mustang was a pile. It was loaded with bondo, the frame broke one day when I slid on ice into a curb on a side street. It had a spark plug that we just couldn't get out, so we brought it into the local auto shop at the time so they could use their tools to really wrench on it and get it out. They worked on it, gave us the bill and sent us on our merry way. When Mark pulled the motor later we found the same old spark plug still eternally burrowed into the motor like a tick. They never did get it out and they charged us for it. Go figure. ~Beth
By the way, regarding the photo of my then young hubby pulling the motor, the garage in the back ground is my dad's. It should give you a clue to what kind of motorhead my dad was. He wasn't the street rod kind, he was the farm boy kind. He was a tank mechanic when he was in the sevice.
My husband was using my dad's garage for the first time to pull this motor. You gotta know that I have two older brothers, this wasn't the first time this garage had seen action. My husband's dad has the spotless garage with the white walls and that was the environment he was used to trying not to mess up. So as my husband is emptying oil into my dad's barrel, it ends up overflowing, oil everywhere. My dad walks up behind my freaked out husband, who fully expects to get chewed out, and my dad says, "Huh, looks like you need a new barrel." and walks away. I love my dad.