Most people don't get the opportunity to own a piece of history, much less a piece of their own childhood. Even when the chance comes along, it isn't al... Show moreways ideal. But sometimes even through the roughest of conditions, a select few can still see something special...
When I was a young boy in the early 90's, my Dad was a police officer, and he had a blue 1988 mustang LX Hatchback. You could hear it for what felt like miles, and see it usually streaking sideways around corners, or raging trough the city streets. It was almost always at its best with that man in blue cooking through the gears, my older brother gripping the interior, and my 10 year old self laughing menacingly in the backseat. I always said “one day this car will be mine.” and my Dad would smile, look down at me and say “no.”
That fox body mustang was something really special. It wasn't the fastest, or the prettiest shade of blue. It didn't like wet roads, ice, sand, leaves, dirt, or going in a straight line. In fact the only thing it seemed to love was circles, and insane loose rear end nonsense. Yeah, Nonsense... That was exactly what this car was always about.
It was a Bright Regatta Blue LX Hatchback with a 5.0/T5 combo from the factory. It was light, and had an 8.8” 2.73 rearend configuration that made for some fun times. She had a true dual stainless exhaust setup using twin glass packs and 1.75” pipe. It sounded great, and it felt great to be in, but as the 1990's came to an end, so too did that car leave the pavement behind.
I bought a 1987 Mercury cougar in high school, and roasted the tires off yearly (really, really roasted) in wonderful clouds and insane burnouts, but that Mustang feeling never came back. I drove my dad's mustang in a circle around my backyard once in 1998, and that was enough to chase it to this very day. I tried to replace it, I've even tried to find that feeling in motorcycles, dirt bikes, and a lot of great, but childish stunts. But that 'specialness' just wasn't there.
But then again, sometimes something truly special doesn't have to die. Climbing into the drivers seat of your Dad's 1988 mustang is a dream I have wanted since I was 9 years old. And I'm proud to say that my 9 year old, and his 3 siblings, will have the very same dream. Not a similar one, not a knock off, or a “this one is just like my Dad's.” Nope, the very same. Back after 20 years... My dad's ACTUAL 1988 Bright Regatta Blue Mustang. And I'm proud to say after a quarter century I made it to the drivers seat, and my 3 boys will experience something truly special as we restore it together. Sometimes even through the rust spots, peeling paint, and desperate need of help, somebody see's more. When I look in the rear view mirror, I see a little kid with a great big smile, and my father looking back at him through my eyes. Because that is where truly special memories come from.