Seeing these shots of a ’72 Mustang in Budapest that roshake 77 posted reminds me of how I helped facilitate a German visiting Baltimore in the winter of 1970 to buy a Mustang from the Ford dealer I worked at.
A German choir was traveling in the US, performing mostly at churches, including Immaculate Conception in Towson. Since my parents spoke German, the leader was put in touch with my parents by the pastor, and he and his wife were invited for dinner. I was in high school at the time, working after school for Towson Ford as a car jockey, just a few months before I split.
When I mentioned that at dinner, the choir director’s eyes lit up. Can you help me buy a Mustang? They’re so much cheaper here than the ones officially imported by Ford.
Sure, I guess. But you’ll have to make some modifications to it when it arrives in Germany.
We arranged to meet the General Manager (referred to as “Slick” or “Onion head” by the Black staff on account of his bald pate) the next afternoon. When the GM asked how he was going to pay for it, the choir director pointed to his briefcase: I have the cash here.
Undoubtedly it was the proceeds from their performances at the many churches, where a collection was always taken up for them. It had been a successful tour.
The choir director picked out a base silver coupe from the lot, and the transaction was completed. I rode back to our house in it, and he thanked me. But no commission from either him or the General Manager.
I don’t know how or when this ’72 convertible found its way to Europe, but I do know how one silver coupe did so.