Mustang #3

From a very early age I was obsessed with Ford Mustangs. Even before I could drive, it was the only car I could think about. My first car ever was a beautiful teal green Mustang with big rear tires and gold rims. My second car ever was the same year as the first, but equipped with a hot engine and a 5-speed manual transmission. I was living the dream, but they were both from 1985 and my dreams always pointed me at 1965 and 1969. But since those weren't practical daily drivers they were out of my reach as toys until I became successful as an adult.

So I worked my butt off for a couple decades. Struggled through the early ears just making ends meet, then graduating into being slightly more successful where finances got focused on establishing a comfortable life.

In around 2015 I started to notice "extra" cash building up in my personal bank account and thought that maybe the time had come for my dream car. I began to focus. Watch my spending, avoid unnecessary purchases, and start squirrelling money into a separate account I wouldn't touch.

By 2016 the account was showing a good balance so I started shopping...obsessively. I drove my wife crazy by sending her endless ads, and drove myself crazy by spending way too much time on my phone dreaming up ways to ship cars across the country. I had champagne tastes on a beer budget but that wasn't slowing me down.

Then one day there she was, a cherry red 1965 Mustang coupe located only a short ferry ride away. My wife dropped me off at the float plane terminal the very next day and my mother-in-law picked me up on the other side. We went to see the car together and I knew the moment I saw it that we'd be going home together; that's about where the wheels came off my plan.

I was so blinded by the lead-up to that day that I looked past every flaw I would tell others to run away from. I'd say that I sold myself on the car, but deep down I knew that I'd already sold myself on any car that came to be in front of me.

The car and I got home late that evening and things basically fell apart from there. To cut it short, within two weeks the car ended up on the hoist at my local shop and I was in tears as they pointed out all the structural, mechanical, electrical, and safety issues. It was just a bondo lemon with a death-trap personality. Two weeks after that I sold the car to the highest local bidder just to get it out of my garage (and sights), despite the multi-thousand dollar hit I took.

I have nobody to blame for that experience except for myself. All the best laid plans, all the research, and all the saving was wasted because of the one thing I couldn't control, myself.

Since then I've had two more 1960's Mustangs and both were a delight, but certainly bought with the memories of that little red '65.