K
Kit Sullivan
Guest
When this car was new, I never cared for it in the fasion that it now deserves. I treated it like what is was: a typical car that was probably intended for the junkyard after about 10-15 years.
Once, while in a drunken stupor I accepted a challenge from an equally shit-faced buddy of mine to a race from the bar we were at to my apartment about 15 miles away.
My Mustang versus his 70 Chevelle SS 396 ( really a 402 I think).
On a couple mile stretch of side-by-side 2-laner we were pretty much neck-to-neck, then it was a long stretch of winding one-lane country road. Lots of passing on the shoulders and in the dirt.
The entrance to my apartment complex comes up, I cut esrly across the grass and fishtail into the driveway...almost.
My car was ( apparently) stuck in a slight ditch, I assumed the damn low-hanging cross-member was hung-up...like they get on these cars.
Now, drunk as a skunk I decide to power through it so I just keep hammering away on the gas pedal.
No luck.
I back up a couple feet to get a good running start and it gets stuck in the same spot again.
After several minutes of getting nowhere, my buddy Dennis is out of his car, standing there laughing his ass off at me.
I gave up, decided to leave it there until the next morning and went to my place and passed out.
The next morning when I went down to check it out, I found that I had not gotten the cross-member hung up.
There was a huge decorative boulder about 1000 lbs or more in the grass on either side of the driveway. Somehow in my pickled state I didn't see this giant hulking rock and drove right into it...several times. Backed up and smashed it few more times. There were green, red and golden fluids of death all over the grass, the whole front end was smashed to smithereens.
Si that little adventure resulted in an entire dog-house ( front clip) off of a 72' junk-yard mach 1, along with new radiator, windshield, dash panel, shifter lever and rearview mirror.
And 6 months of "no Mustang to drive regrets".
That poor car has survived several incidents of my complete stupidity over the years. I am embarrased to admit I treated it that way, and of my general youthful irresponsibilty. I am thankful I never hurt anyone over the years.
Now the car is pampered. It will never be as nice as others, but I love it anyway.
Once, while in a drunken stupor I accepted a challenge from an equally shit-faced buddy of mine to a race from the bar we were at to my apartment about 15 miles away.
My Mustang versus his 70 Chevelle SS 396 ( really a 402 I think).
On a couple mile stretch of side-by-side 2-laner we were pretty much neck-to-neck, then it was a long stretch of winding one-lane country road. Lots of passing on the shoulders and in the dirt.
The entrance to my apartment complex comes up, I cut esrly across the grass and fishtail into the driveway...almost.
My car was ( apparently) stuck in a slight ditch, I assumed the damn low-hanging cross-member was hung-up...like they get on these cars.
Now, drunk as a skunk I decide to power through it so I just keep hammering away on the gas pedal.
No luck.
I back up a couple feet to get a good running start and it gets stuck in the same spot again.
After several minutes of getting nowhere, my buddy Dennis is out of his car, standing there laughing his ass off at me.
I gave up, decided to leave it there until the next morning and went to my place and passed out.
The next morning when I went down to check it out, I found that I had not gotten the cross-member hung up.
There was a huge decorative boulder about 1000 lbs or more in the grass on either side of the driveway. Somehow in my pickled state I didn't see this giant hulking rock and drove right into it...several times. Backed up and smashed it few more times. There were green, red and golden fluids of death all over the grass, the whole front end was smashed to smithereens.
Si that little adventure resulted in an entire dog-house ( front clip) off of a 72' junk-yard mach 1, along with new radiator, windshield, dash panel, shifter lever and rearview mirror.
And 6 months of "no Mustang to drive regrets".
That poor car has survived several incidents of my complete stupidity over the years. I am embarrased to admit I treated it that way, and of my general youthful irresponsibilty. I am thankful I never hurt anyone over the years.
Now the car is pampered. It will never be as nice as others, but I love it anyway.