Everything I need to know about driving a Mustang, I learned in less than two blocks.
As I was pulling away from Henry Day Ford, not through the first intersection, I looked over to see the guy stopped next to me completely undressing my car with his eyes. When he noticed me noticing him, he gave me the universal sign for “I’m shamelessly attracted to your vehicle,” the thumbs up.
I hadn’t even been inside the car for five minutes.
This pattern continued over the few days I had the car. I would get all sorts of looks, and basically every time somebody was around to see me get out of the car they would compliment it. I felt like the spouse of a celebrity, constantly in the limelight but never really the focus.
But here’s the thing: It wasn’t just other people who made me feel cool; the car did. The car oozes cool. Just being inside, with the roar of the engine and whatever they coated the dash with, you feel like an old school American bad boy. Maybe it’s the low roof or the fitted seats, but existing behind the wheel of this Mustang suddenly turns a person into James Dean.
The car is an experience. If you’re lucky enough to get your first look at night, you’ll notice a special surprise when the car is unlocked; it projects Mustang logos down onto the street to the side of the car. It’s pretty amazing. And then when you actually open the door, the inside door panel features a glowing “Mustang” mark. The car’s gauges, done in the same delightful color as the rest of the glowing trinkets (I just learned that you can supposedly change this color) are done in the same modern-retro style as the rest of the car, eliciting Nostalgia Americana in just about anybody.
I guess my point is the Mustang somehow makes you cooler. And it’s not in a vain or self-gratifying way. It’s just, cool. You’ll get it when you drive it.