Hyper-Observation Boy Strikes Again

On the way back from Sabbath Errands, I happen to see this Blast from the Past parked at an antique shop at the end of our block.

It caught my eye for three reasons: It had collector plates, it's a doggone rare specimin as we plunge deeper into the 21st century, and because I used to drive one. I was once the pilot of a '74 Mustang II for much of my high school years and a bit beyond. Mine was The Shit: Robin's egg-blue with navy rally stripes, that goofy German V6 from the Capri, a white vinyl roof, Cragar SS rims with whitewalls, and the dealer-installed vanity mirror from Bison Ford in (at the time) Havre, Montana. I once drove it all the way to Kansas City to swap out the 4.10 rear end for a more-reasonable 3.63(?) application.

Ultimately, it was a serious piece of crap, and the very epitome of the dulled senses of the terribly confused and adrift American auto industry in the mid-70's, but mine was the ultimate polished turd; the finest example or its breed everywhere it went.

This one was parked in in fron of a 4-door VW Golf, which is pretty close to the dimensions of my 337. I was pretty amazed how low and long the Mustang was. For a car based on the Pinto, it had a lot of hood.