In early 2000, I was six months into my new position at a local software training materials company, having departed LCP in ‘99 after 10 years, one college degree, many different positions, and little upward career movement. With experience in printing, desktop publishing and design software as well as technical writing, I was now an acquisitions editor, evaluating software training created by third-party vendors, and partnering with new vendors.
The company was part of the Ziff-Davis publishing conglomerate, which owned several computer/tech magazines (and, at one time, Car and Driver). Using “grasping at straws” logic, I was convinced that I could parlay this connection into my long-coveted car magazine job. So, with job, marriage, and dwelling (temporarily) resolved, my mind began to wander.
I still had the Probe GT and no plans to upgrade to a later-model vehicle. Instead, I looked towards the past, which was not a good idea. I tended to romanticize things and mix “ideas” with “reality.”
The “Idea” vs. The “Reality”
For example, I say that I like convertibles, and I do. But what I really like is the “idea” of a convertible: sultry summer evenings with the top down, the wind in your hair, being at one with nature as you breeze your way to . . . wherever it is that one breezes towards.

The “reality” of convertible ownership—the top is usually up; it may not be weatherproof; the experience of cowl shake and other undesirable chassis behaviors—are all things I am aware of but don’t always take into account.
My life could have been much more entertaining if I could have just borrowed or rented all the cars I’ve been interested in, similar to swimming in your neighbor’s pool. That was part of the reason I wanted a car magazine job in the first place.
When I was an adolescent, my father and I spent hours talking about all of the fun an old car would be, going to shows, and so on. We didn’t know it then, but we both meant how fun the “idea” of old car ownership would be. So much time had passed; now, it was 2000. At 71, his time to make it happen had passed by. But, I still wanted to do it for both of us.
The ‘Bird That Got Away
In May 2000, I found a ‘68 Firebird convertible in Hemmings just a few miles from us in Penfield, for $5,500. Wow, that was easy, I thought. The car, still with its original owner, was comfortably worn and showed some minor rust repair, but was largely untouched and stock. The owner took her Firebird to the Pacific Northwest in ‘70 or so. When she returned to Rochester in the early ‘90s, the car was long retired from daily driver duty.

Cautiously, I played this adventure by the book. First step: a look-see and test drive. It had a Pontiac 350 with a two-barrel carburetor and three-speed manual. For a mundane, regular-gas Pontiac 350, I was amused to hear a slight chop to the idle. The judda-judda-judda-tha-judda-judda-tha-judda-judda-judda of the stock exhaust was music to my ears.

The torquey Pontiac 350 was a good match for the three-speed; I even caught some unintended one-wheel peel as I left a stoplight. The car moved right along; stopping right along was a different story with drums front and rear. Power steering was typically over-assisted and numb. All in all, I liked this car—a lot.
‘Bird or Buzzard?
While its dull Verdoro Green exterior and faded Ivy Gold interior may have said “Firebuzzard” instead of “Firebird,” it was perfectly usable as it sat. Its black vinyl convertible top had been expertly installed; it fit like a Savile Row suit and was in impeccable condition. And the car had that “original owner/bought new in Rochester” provenance that appealed to me. After completing the pre-purchase inspection, my local old-school trusted neighborhood garage gave it the thumbs up.
In the end, we couldn’t come to an agreement on price. With foolish visions of “1968 showroom fresh” grade restoration work in my head, my thriftiness got the best of me. An out-of-town buyer got it for $4,500, and I resumed shopping.
The Consolation Prize
It took a year to find another suitable vehicle. This time, I focused on pristine body condition, and that’s what I got. And that was all I got, besides heartburn and ass pain, as you’ll see. Let’s travel back to May 2001 . . . .

I found a 1970 Mustang convertible, another local car, in medium blue metallic with a white top and interior, two-barrel 302 and a three-speed manual. The body and underside were super clean; no corrosion to mention. This car had not been on the road in many moons, and it showed. Dried out early ‘80s white-lettered tires, flat paint on all horizontal body surfaces, old top, and so on.
The engine ran and the lights worked. Suspiciously, it had a fresh New York State inspection sticker but there had been no “inspection”— the tires alone would have failed it.

A “test drive” of sorts (at about 20 mph) indicated all four manual drum brakes needed adjustment or replacement as they locked at random when the brake pedal was depressed. The three-speed manual had been swapped for a C4 which performed satisfactorily, if you ignored the time it went Ralph Kramden on me, inexplicably homina, homina, homina-ing back and forth rapidly between first and second a handful of times before settling on second.
Shopper’s Fatigue
But it had a great body. Super clean. And, I was tired of looking. So, I bought it for $7,500. Funny how a year’s worth of fruitless searching, combined with the promise of summer, is like 3-In-One Oil for opening one’s wallet.

That evening, I knew I should bail out when I encountered some rather eye-watering prices on replacement parts. But, being “thrifty,” I couldn’t bear the prospect of losing my $500 deposit. I normally would have done a $100 deposit, but not that day. A smart person would have kissed the $500 goodbye and walked, no, ran away. So, I proved, yet again, the tendency for my IQ to plummet at the most inopportune times.
But, remember, it had a great body. Super clean.
The Beginning of The End
I had the car flatbedded to my local trusted old-school neighborhood garage. Admittedly, I (very) briefly felt like a “big-timer” as I followed the flatbed from northwest Rochester on 590 South to Fairport on 490 East, excitedly pondering the promise of this acquisition.

Sidebar: Let’s pause briefly and summarize my automotive repair expertise: I have none. Sure, I’ve helped friends do lots of car work over the years, and I have (successfully) done work on my own cars. But, when it came to serious automotive work, I lacked The Three T’s: Training, Tools, and Temperament.
- Training: My father loved cars, but had zero interest in, or patience for, working on them. Growing up, I never fiddled with our family cars for fear I’d accidentally disable them and get bitched out. My Uncle John certainly knew his way around a car, but lived three hours away.
- Tools: Because my father never touched a car, we had no car tools, or any other kinds of tools, really. It was beyond pitiful. My juvenile mechanical life consisted of attempts to conjure repair miracles with a crummy crescent wrench, a pair of needle-nose pliers, and the “use once then throw out” tool included with offshore-made consumer goods requiring home assembly.
- Temperament: I don’t have the temperament at all for working on cars, especially rusty, crusty New York cars abused by years of road salt. I’m sure items 1 and 2 above exacerbated the effects of item 3, but I am just not a patient individual when it comes to certain things.
So, today, I am knowledgeable on how to do a lot of things, but largely inexperienced in actually doing them.
Off to the Garage
That’s why the car went directly to the garage instead of my garage. The garage was my only chance of getting it drivable that summer. It took them a few weeks to get the car, um, sorta-sorted:
- Front-end rebuild: Check, planned on that.
- New brake shoes and turned drums: Check, planned on that.
- New wheel cylinders: Check, no more random lockups.
- Tune-up: Goes without saying.
- Tires: Of course; the ubiquitous BF Goodrich Radial T/A.
- Carburetor overhaul: Check, I guess. Not surprised.
I took my father to the garage one Saturday to see the car. He was surprised but pleased, although he commented on the car’s overall weathered exterior. He was right, but don’t forget — the body was great. Super clean.
Hitting the Road or Hitting My Head
A work colleague dropped me off at the garage one afternoon after work. This was the big day — the car was ready to time travel! Let’s go!
In retrospect, the drive home fell between “underwhelming” and “primitive.” Was I ready for manual steering? Nope. Was I ready for manual drum brakes. Nope. At a stoplight, I could barely keep the car stationary with both feet jammed on the brake pedal.

At least one past owner drove this with a three-speed manual, I mused. The C4 was the only element that wasn’t working against me on that trip. The rest of the car was an unnerving handful.

Plan B: “Burn” (More Money)
Disappointed but undaunted, I assessed the situation:
- I absolutely hated driving this car as it sat. The Probe was a warpdrive-enabled, interplanetary wondercraft in comparison. The Mustang’s daily-driver deficiencies exponentially enhanced my perception of the Probe’s dynamic delights.
- Those 1970 bucket seats made my back sad. When driving it, my lower back and left leg often ached with sciatica.
- There was only one thing to do: “Fix” its shortcomings! I may be thrifty but am also a man of action! Wishing won’t make it so; put that credit card to work, son!
This mentality made me very popular on a few Mustang forums and eBay, where I discovered that some GM F-body components were markedly cheaper than the corresponding FoMoCo Mustang equivalent. Lucky me.
So Many Purchases
First, I scored a set of white leather Fox-body Mustang bucket seats, which helped my back issue. I also scored a used OEM control valve power steering setup which, about a week after installation, leaked all over the garage floor like a torpedoed oil tanker.

The ideal solution was aftermarket power rack-and-pinion steering, a compelling but stunningly expensive solution in 2001. So, I went the lousy control valve route and made my life “easier.” For a week or so.
Same with brakes. Why get a power booster for drums? Just do the power front discs. Again, the aftermarket kits were quite pricey, so I did the used parts route, with spindles, calipers, lines, etc. off a compatible model. It never was installed because the garage couldn’t find a used brake pedal with the appropriate stroke length to work with the booster. Ugh.


Meanwhile, I drove it maybe two days a week to work because the Probe simply ran circles around it in every conceivable dynamic metric, including “fun” quotient. I wasn’t surprised by that; just floored over how much it mattered to me, I guess. Even my father and I only went out a handful of times.
But, in case you forgot, it had a really clean body. Super nice. Which never really mattered since we didn’t make it to the cosmetics stage.
Transmission Transition
Sometime in August, the C4 finally died, hanging in second, reluctantly shifting from second to third, then to nothing. The car was at the garage just a couple of weeks before; they tried in vain to get the transmission to misbehave. I wanted to put the three-speed manual back in, but figured it would then be undrivable to me until power brakes were installed. So, it got a rebuilt C4.

There was no “fun” in this for me. I spent the summer either toughing it out to/from work in the Mustang, or leaving it at the garage getting one thing or another fixed, replaced or installed while I drove the “wondercraft” Probe.
Goodbye Now
One September day, with the Mustang still as lousy to drive as ever, I’d had enough. More specifically, my patience and bank account, both dwindling, told me I’d had enough. Soon, I’d be paying to store it. Now firmly operating in reality, I couldn’t really stand the thought. I needed to “cut bait.”
I’d done many mechanical repairs that would make a potential buyer happy: rebuilt front suspension, new tires, new brakes, rebuilt transmission, overhauled carburetor, . . . on and on, but nothing cosmetic.

So, it’s like replumbing a house: the buyer is glad you did it, but they have no intention of it increasing their purchase offer. I’d probably spent over $4,500 on parts and repairs alone, yet gladly sold the car on eBay for $6,500. Buy high, sell low . . . that’s how you “make money” in collector cars, haha.
Of course it sold; it had a great body. Very clean.
The Minnesota-based buyer sent payment first, followed by an enclosed transport trailer. We tucked every extra part we had in the car: the original three-speed stick and related items, the original front seats, and the incomplete front disc brake set. At a mall parking lot near our home, the transport driver drove it into the trailer, and That. Was. That. Whew! Gone!
Lessons Learned
The lessons learned were expensive, but also obvious:
- Things change. Cars have changed a lot over the years, both inside and outside. My expectations were too high and my romanticized notions distorted my perspective. I needed to lay off the Hollywood BS.
- The garage was not my personal mechanical restoration shop. Sometimes, things simply took longer to complete. Also, they had regular work to do for their other customers. They weren’t going to work on my car 24 hours a day.
- Money or time, take your pick. Doing it yourself takes a long time (even if you know what you’re doing). Farming it out takes a lot money.
- Buy the nicest example you can afford (!). In the interest of thriftiness, I burned up a good chunk of money. Sports Car Market magazine always says, “Buy the nicest example you can afford.” They are 100% right. It will be cheaper in the end.
- I bought the car because I liked its look and sound. And that was exactly what I got in return. But, I was obviously looking for more than that.
I never regretted unloading the car, even with the financial loss. Later, when I relayed the lessons learned to my father, he replied, “To receive an education, you have to pay tuition.” Right on the nose, Confucius.
What’s Next?
For my next car, my feet were firmly in the present; I stayed away from manual drum brakes, carburetors, manual steering, and other automotive artifacts. Other than everything, there was nothing wrong with my next choice. The next installment will reveal all. Stay tuned.
Related CC reading:
Cohort Sighting: 1970 Mustang – Stripper Edition (by Paul N)
CC Capsule: 1970 Ford Mustang Mach 1 – If You Can’t Take The Heat (by Perry Shoar)
So very well said Sir .
I’m a retired Journeyman Mechanic who still loves, owns and drives older vehicles and one very basic and crude classic .
I used to try and tell my Customers that the idea of a rag top is what sells them, I myself bought quite a few and inevitably after three months in sunny So. Cal. the top went up and stayed there .
Once you’re accustomed to disc brakes, power steering and especially air conditioning nothing else matches .
I still drive hair shirt strippers for daily use but even those have AC, PS, PB and vastly better handling and ergonomics than almost any old ‘classic’ .
My hobby / fun / road rally / touring car is a 1959 VW Beetle, it’s bone stock down to the 6 volt electrical system that I spent a long time finding the correct typs of LED bulbs to work in the original lighting fixtures .
When I had the seats redone I had to find a place that listened to be and didn’t use any foam rubber, rather the seats have coconut fiber pads ( $ but thankfully still available) , skinny modern radial tires made sure it hold the road well, Bilstein HD gas shocks so it doesn’t bounce all over the road and one small and simple up grade to the (rebuild by me) original braking system means it stops easily on a dime but they are drums and so can easily be over driven or caused to heat up and fail if I get too happy going down hill in the canyons I loved to drive .
Choose wisely and always buy the best mechanically done car you actually like to drive, paint and body are fearsomely expen$ive so this battered old survivor will never be restored by me but I’ll always, even when it’s 100 + degrees or below 40 degrees F love driving it .
With age comes wisdom I have realized that as much as I dislike chopping up originals, Resto – Modding is they way for most to be happy .
-Nate
The distinction between the IDEA of owning a classic and the reality is one that can’t be overemphasized. I had more fun driving my Sixties cars than you did with your Mustang, but the constant maintenance headaches wore me down.
Been there, done that, and it’s nice to have some company. I had a 6 cylinder/3 speed 68 Mustang back in 1979. I wonder if I would enjoy driving it now as I did then, at age 20. Now, I would be reluctant to do without power steering on a “play car”, and maybe a/c too.
I am another who is easily seduced by the lack of visible rust.
Thanks for so candidly relating the whole tale. I look at older-car listings often to amuse myself, but this is a reminder of “the idea of” vs. reality. (I’ve often thought of circa-1970 as a nice older-car sweet spot: the kind of maintenance I could do fifty years ago, but none of the later-1970s pollution controls to complicate things. Still I’m no closer to seriously buying than I was a day ago—and am probably “farther away,” to be honest.) Thanks again—-I look forward to next installment.
When the wife and I agreed we needed a convertible in our life again several 60’s and early 70’s made the initial list. However we did come to the conclusion that something with all the modern things like disc brakes, air bags, A/C, power door locks with remote entry would make it more enjoyable and comfortable cruiser. So we ended up with something from the 00’s instead. It is still an “old car” that has its needs, but living in the Pacific NorthWEsT we will stick with closed vehicles, albeit with a big hole in the roof, for our daily drivers.
Old cars will rarely drive like modern cars or even as well as they did new the skillsets garages used to have are gone now, I have had a classic as a spare car for 30 years or so, the 63 Holden had drums all round a cheap and poorly designed braking system from new, drum brakes done properly do work ok but that requires twin leading shoes on the front not the single rubbish a booster wont really help all that does is reduce pedal effort not fade.
Convertibles do have appeal if you like skin cancer or getting wet, but I like station wagons always did and have one from 66 as a pet now, its a good 20 foot car and unlike the Australian Holden this one was quite a good car new and modern for its era, I bought the one I could find for sale there are reputed 7 survivors here so choices are limited, but its better than the other two I know of and have seen mine runs drives has rego and current safety inspection those other two dont but they look better. its worth nothing too which is a bonus I’m not trying to sell it, I enjoy driving it. I even enjoy turning spanners on it.
Wow, there is a lot to unpack here! But I think that you have provided a valuable public service. Especially for those that have dreamed about vintage car ownership, but have never driven older cars as daily transportation. As someone who has always driven old cars I am quite familiar with how they compare to my modern new cars. They are different, and you do have to have realistic expectations about them.
I also bought a ’70 Mustang as a project hobby car around ten years ago. I liked to say that it possessed the “Trifecta of Undesirability.” It was a six cylinder, salvage title, coupe, but it was cheap. No matter what I did to it, and I did a lot, THAT was never going to change. It’s funny because I had owned a ’66 Mustang V8 coupe with four speed as my first car, and I hadn’t thought that it was that bad.
A lot of things were pretty poor in the 70, ergonomics being one of the worst, I couldn’t reach the dash controls like wiper switch with my shoulder harness on. Ventilation was awful, and the sun beamed down into the car mercilessly. It was even hard to read the gauges that were sunken in the dash. The manual drum brakes were not that bad, if you couldn’t easily hold your car at a stop, something must have been seriously wrong. I just found that mine didn’t stop like a modern car, no surprise there.
I think that there are only two ways to find happiness with owning an old car; spend whatever it costs to buy the very best, well sorted example, no matter what the cost, or, you buy it as as a project. And do all the work yourself. That does call for having a workspace, tools and plenty of experience. Either way you are bound to experience some disappointments.
Convertibles are more of a dream more than a reality. Currently I have an ’06 Mustang which looks sorta like the ’69 and ’70 models that are my favorites, but is a thoroughly modern car. I only put the top down when I’m driving it by myself, then there is no one to make any complaints!
As you wrote, you have to keep your expectations in check, old cars are not going to satisfy you if you prefer the ease of driving a modern car. You will be disappointed.
I recently bought a real antique, a 1946 Plymouth coupe. Wow, is driving that, different then any car I have ever owned. It is very primitive but that is what makes driving it so much fun. It is an older full restoration but I’m still sorting it out and fixing the little things that it needs.
Maybe I am a glutton for punishment, as I also just bought myself another Harley Davidson.
It’s all good as long as I’m still having fun. Ride/drive safe!
Great story, thanks for writing up this experience!
I’ve only owned one convertible classic car, a 75 Buick LeSabre. It wasn’t nearly the trial your Mustang was. The only major mechanical issue I had in 3 years of ownership was a transmission rebuild, and the car was generally a pleasure to drive.
But, it’s not an accident that I haven’t bought a convertible since then. Having a soft top, at least on an old car that you intend to drive much at all, involves sacrifice. My top didn’t go down very smoothly and I would have to physically help it to make it seat right. At highway speeds top up, the top got sucked upwards, pulling against the contact point with the windshield, creating a gap just big enough to allow air, rain and bugs into the car. Rain leaked through the top around the base of the rear window, making a puddle in the cloth “basket” in the top well (thankfully that held the water and it didn’t go down in the body and create rust). I could go on, but you get the idea.
I did enjoy driving top down, especially at night, though I discovered I didn’t really love having the sun beating down on me in the middle of the day, especially if the weather was very warm. All that said, I’d still kind of like to have a convertible again someday. It would just have to be either a modern newer car, or a very nice condition classic that I wasn’t planning to drive often.
Thank you for this article – I will bookmark this, and re-read it whenever I get the urge to buy an old car.
I could very easily have fallen into this same predicament numerous times; I was really swayed from buying an old car because I never had anywhere realistic to store it… but in reality that lack of a garage probably saved me a great deal of hassle and headache.
Somewhat similar to my experience. My 67 Lincoln Continental was far from pristine and my hope was turning it into a daily driver without spending much time or money…which quickly proved wrong and wrong…
After that “education” I bought a low-mileage, super-clean 78 LC and it was much more enjoyable.
Ah, the “I am in over my head”. The reason I got my 73 Polara really cheap was mainly because the 22 year old seller was in over his head. Actually the work wasn’t difficult for me a seasoned mechanic so to speak.
As to your choice I’d say first, even back in the day, a manual steering, non-disc, stick shift Mustang (other than maybe the 65-66) wasn’t a daily driver. Even worse today given that traffic is far heavier than those days. There is also the tendency of people, in today’s cars, who can dart in and out while stopping on a dime and expect the same from you. Ha, your car stops on a dollar bill. There is a reason why I drive my manual steering, drum brake F100 in only the right situations.
One really shouldn’t get involved with one of these cars unless you can do most all the work yourself or are wealthy enough not to care what it costs. Hard not to put more money into one especially if you can’t do the work. I have been fortunate to have never have gone down the negative route.
I will highlight your Probe though as I was thinking of looking at a really nice low mileage manual 89. Then I saw the dash where the center air vents were removed along with the ducting to put another graphic equalizer in. At that point I told the seller forget it.
A few years ago and after owning 3 different ’60s vintage Mustangs in the past, I bought my dream car since childhood – a navy blue 1967 Mustang Convertible, albeit with a 6-cyl AT instead of a 289. I wanted the 6 because gas was expensive and I wanted to be able to drive my classic anywhere. I bought my dream one State over and tried to drive it home. About 20 miles into the drive, the manual brakes failed at highway speed (master cylinder lost all its fluid) and I was lucky to find a side road to turn off on to avoid rear ending some cars at a stop light. After the repair, I was able to get the car home. Living in a city of hills, I could never get the image out of my head over losing my brakes – which made going down a steep hill a mental adventure wondering if my car would stop. I was planning to do a front disc upgrade, but I never got that far. Everywhere I drove, I had the unfortunate experience of having people in other cars shouting out regularly asking if I wanted to sell it. Worse, people would cut me off and hit their brakes, causing me to have to do panic stops (with the drum brakes) to avoid colliding with them, just to stop me to ask if I wanted to sell. This became so commonplace that I found myself avoiding taking my car out because it did not feel safe. After 8 months of ownership, I sold it at a loss to just move on. Yes, I can say that I owned my dream. Unfortunately, the joy was quickly removed by people behaving badly.
I drive a 54 year old car every day – it’s my only registered vehicle in the US. It has good brakes (disc/drum), but no ABS, and is rear engined, so front wheel lockup is a problem. It is also tiny, so gets overlooked by other motorists, or they expect me to be crawling along, which i don’t. It is not refined, has no passive safety to speak of and has under 50hp. 2nd gear synchro is a bit cantankerous and it smells of gas after a fill up. I have to maintain it myself because no shops will touch it.
I love this little old heap! It makes every drive entertaining in an “us versus the rest of the world” way, is super cheap to run and gets more positive comments than any other car I have ever had.
Ahh, the idea of a convertible, something perhaps best appreciated in vintage car advertising. I’ve never owned one, but took long-term care of a couple of them for friends and…yeah. Top was usually up, both were flexible flyers and that California sun gets old after it’s been beating on your dome for a couple of hours. Despite these absolute facts I am currently trying to fight off a nearly overwhelming urge to buy a 60s Cadillac drop top, because people do not grow up, they just get older.
Many, many moons ago, my mother badgered my dad into buying this very nice Mercedes, seen here at the end of its last drive in my possession, during which it tried very hard to kill me with a total brake failure. It took her exactly one trip in this car to decided she didn’t like convertibles at all. I really, really need to focus on this right now.
Great write-up, and fair warning to anybody wanting to jump in with both feet. If you’ve never driven an old car, you’ll have no idea what to expect. You will find the ride tends to be as good or better, but steering, braking, and handling are another story. That said, I drove something pretty similar – a ’64 Fairlane – for about nine years, and lived pretty well with it. That was with newer seats and AC added though. I really should have upgraded to disk brakes though; drums will stop you from 60, once, not much more. Generally though, I never felt like I was punishing myself driving it in place of something more typical.
Fixer-uppers are a risk even for the experienced and capable; they’re usually a worse deal for someone paying to have them brought up to speed. There are some great deals that legitimately just need something or another, but most advertised as such actually need a lot more. Unless you know what you’re doing, walk away from anything that doesn’t function basically as it should.
Expectations are a big thing getting into vintage cars. You’re talking about drum brakes (mostly), soft suspensions, flexy bodies, varied ergonomics (they’re usually fine once you get used to them), and so on. By the same token, if you drive them with due caution – (things like panic maneuvers demand more skill) they get around just fine. But some people aren’t prepared for the difference, and you don’t know until you try. Hopefully that’s before you buy.
So, there’s a reason, beyond attrition, not many people daily drive these. But on the other hand, the simplicity and distinctiveness holds a lot of charm. Even the crudeness can be part of the fun. Obviously the big name muscle cars are what people think of, but even the basic version of any of the better choices (styling-wise) from around ’75 and earlier will get a lot of attention.
Anyway, I bought the old Fairlane full of passion, but didn’t have nearly the skills to make it what I dreamed up. I learned a lot though, and it treated me well. Now I’m finally close to where I need to be after a couple decades of shade-tree tinkering. It’d be a cool car to restore as a top-spec original (289 hi-po and four-speed), but I think I’m going to go for broke. I think I won’t be satisfied until I do 200 MPH in it. Which means full custom everything. And if you want to have the joy of that classic look with modern – even supercar – performance, it can be done. Only no matter how you do it, it’s gonna cost you.
That’s a cautionary epic. While my father wasn’t much of a wrench turner, I taught myself, and bought one of those big Craftsman tool kits very early on.
My one convertible experience was a well kept VW Rabbit which was both weather tight and reasonably solid. I might consider a convertible in the future. I’m not sure I’ll ever own an old American car. I learned on 70s imports and that’s my floor for performance. A Fox body Mustang is more my speed or an early S197 (the SN95 never did it for me).
This was an excellent and very humorous read. I imagine humor was difficult to conjure until maybe years had gone by after you sold the stang. What an experience.
I think Jose is onto something about you doing us a public service. I’ve also had my vehicle boo hoos. Thanks and caveat emptor.