It wasn't until I went away to college that I actually drove my OWN mustang, a hand-me-down car from my parents, a grey1985 third generation model, with a hatch-back. NOT a great "chick magnet" car.Fast forward now almost thirty years later. My youngest son, Spencer has always had an appreciation for the 60's......the music, the cars, the motorcycles. He loves the Beatles, Bob Dylan, and the show "Madmen". With that in mind, my wife, Leslie started looking for a 1960's car for HIS sixteenth birthday. What she found was a 1964 1/2 red mustang with original white pony interior. The price.....$5,000. An old farmer near Weston, Missouri had the car in his barn for years. On a Sunday afternoon, the three of us drove and hour to see it. Since Spencer didn't know how to drive a stick, it was up to me to test drive it. The three speed started up and we headed down the rock road, a trail of white dust behind us, and corn fields on either side. Sold! Spencer has now moved to Minneapolis working as a semi-pro snow boarder, and I'm the guardian of the Mustang. It's pretty much all original and I don't know if we will do a full restore job on it in the future of simply keep it the way it is. Until recently I was driving it most everyday. It gets lots of looks on the road, especially from other "antiques" like me, middle aged men who give me a thumbs up. There's always a glimmer in their eye too. For a flash of a moment, I can see them going back in time to THEIR first car, reliving a simpler time.
In the fall of 1963 America was grappling with the assassination of JFK, competing with its enemy, Russia in the "space race", battling racial segregation and discrimination, and designers at Ford motor company were working on a concept car that was about to change the world, the Mustang.October of 1963 was also the year that Allen and Carolyn Alford welcome their second son into the world, me....Mark. This past year, The mustang and I officially became "antiques", both showing our age a bit, but ready for many miles ahead. My appreciation for the Mustang started when I was just sixteen. Growing up in Baytown, Texas, twenty miles east of Houston, my best friend was Mark Prinzel who lived just one street over. We were inseparable. Our birthdays were only ten days apart and so every year we compared present. In seventh grade we both got unicycles and learned to ride together. On our sixteenth birthday he got a 65 Mustang...and yes...we learned to ride together in that as well.