Technologue: I Owe a Lot to Two Junky Old Mustangs

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Before the 2015 Ford Mustang officially debuted, I paid super-close attention at the in-depth backgrounder, ears perked and straining to hear some detail of a groundbreaking new technology being rolled out that I could cover. But, alas, America's favorite pony has never really been about bleeding-edge science. There is, however, another hook: The first-gen Mustang was instrumental in making me the car-loving, wrench-turning, mechanically inclined engineer/tech director I am today. My first two cars were '66 Mustangs.

I bought the first one in 1978 for $125 at the age of 15. My mom fudged the learner's permit law and let me drive it home with her following. It was a turdy little six-cylinder three-on-the-floor notchback that had backed into a pole, kinking both rear quarter panels. Being the first car lover/tinkerer in my family, I planned to use this car to teach myself auto repair with a little help from Chilton's manuals. I never planned to drive it -- just give it a brake job, a tuneup, spiff it up a little, and flip it.

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Most pressing was the brake job, so thinking "safety first," I carefully set the parking brake, jacked the rear end up and supported it, removed the wheels, and went to remove the rear drums. Huh. They're stuck. Lots of rust; let's try banging and prying. Nope. Grab the BernzOmatic, and let's heat the drum to release it from the sticking axle. No luck. After an hour or so of such ministrations, it finally dawned on me to release the parking brake.More on the Mustang: First 2015 Ford Mustang GT Hitting the Auction Block

Replacing the shoes and adjusting everything front and rear seemed to go pretty easily, and soon it was time to take the car for a test drive. I accelerated gently up the street, reaching maybe 30 mph, then hit the brakes. Something was badly out of whack up front, causing one side to grab hard, wrenching the wheel from my hands and heeling the car over hard enough to roll the outside front tire off its rim. Saner folks might have interpreted all this misadventure as a sign that vehicular fettling was better left to the pros, but I limped my stricken stallion home, got the books out again, and managed to put everything right.

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With a new exhaust manifold gasket quieting the engine compartment, new red carpeting from a '78 Cutlass (warranty-replaced and trash-picked from my afternoon job at the Olds dealership), and a good bit of spit-shine, I sold that car for $300. The buyer drove 3 miles before the engine died, releasing an explosion of sparks from the tailpipe. Caveat emptor!

I plowed my profits into the car that would see me through my senior year in style: a Tahoe Turquoise six-cylinder automatic convertible that had been repainted in school-bus yellow. I learned bodywork on that one, fashioning floorpans from galvanized ductwork sheetmetal, grinding out cracked Bondo and slathering in new, and prepping it for a $300 re-squirt in turquoise. That car also taught me valuable car-control lessons, such as how to reflexively grab for the handbrake when the rear brake line popped at a yellow light in front of the local cop shop. The slightly bald, used whitewall tires I installed taught me about hydroplaning and how to countersteer to correct an oversteer turn with a telephone pole looming in the passenger window. Hey, any miss is as good as a mile, and these were all valuable lessons learned, courtesy of cheap used cars that would eventually become true American icons. Happy 50th, Mustang!First-generationFordMustangs are shown below.

More from Technologue:

• Surrender! We're Leaving Fuel-Economy Testing to the Pros
• Let's Update Our Cars as Easily as We Do Our Phones
• The Zealous Pursuit of Light, Cheap, Aero-Slick Design Produces a Cool Suspension

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