1967 Mustang Fastback; Teenager Blows the Dust Off of a Real Barn Find

I was on the cusp of turning thirteen at that point and the dream of owning my own Ford Mustang never wavered from that point on. I paid no attention to the year or model of Mustang I wanted, but I knew I wanted one similar to the one in the movie. I talked incessantly about buying a car and my dad promised to match any money I saved to buy one once I turned sixteen.

Up to that point, I delivered papers seven days a week with the hope of buying a bigger sailing dinghy than the one I had that I towed behind my bike to the local pond. My savings were then diverted to buying a Mustang. I saw Mustangs in my sleep and everywhere I went. Everyone remembers never seeing a new model car on the streets until your friend bought one. Then you saw them everywhere! That is what happened to me.

One early Sunday morning on my route I was passing the home of an elderly lady who was not a customer and was rarely seen her outside. She was watering some plants on the side of her home next to a parked car completely covered in dust and shaded by a tree. It was a Ford Mustang that had not been driven or cared for in quite some time.

Every day thereafter, I could not take my eyes off the car as I passed by for the next two and a half years. Shortly before my sixteenth birthday as we were driving by one afternoon, I convinced my father to stop and knock on the lady's door and ask about the car. I waited patiently in the car and watched as my father talked with the lady. After several excruciating minutes, my father returned to the car with a troubled look on his face.

The woman explained that the car was her deceased husband's toy and had not been driven or even started for over ten years since his passing. She went on to say a man down the street had offered $1500 for the car several years ago, but she was not prepared to part with it at that time. Thinking it was too much money to pay for a car that was left to be weathered in the Arizona sun, my father thanked her for her time.

My father had no idea at the time, how much money I had saved, but I had enough if the lady would sell it to us for $1500. We returned the following day and after several minutes of negotiation, she agreed to the price. I paid cash for the car, received the title, and towed the car home that day, 4 days before my sixteenth birthday.

Once home, I immediately began trying to determine what I had just purchased. I took notes from the VIN plate in the door jamb and engine sticker under the hood, grabbed the owner's manual from the glove box, and raced to the library.

I quickly learned that I had hit the jackpot!

The car was a 1967 Ford Mustang Fastback with a 289 Hi-Po engine and Toploader four-speed transmission with only 22,000 miles on the odometer. It had a rare Pony interior and factory, Cragar-like Mustang mag wheels.

After a thorough cleaning and buffing of the oxidized paint, the car was impressive. A day working on the inside of the car revealed a like-new interior. I was thrilled!

I then turned my attention to under the hood ( I had no idea what I was doing and my father was furious I was wrenching on my new car), I removed the carburetor and took it to a local shop for a rebuild, While I was waiting for the carburetor, I replaced the spark plugs, points, condenser, rotor, and cap. I bought a new battery and cables, flushed out the fuel tank, changed the oil, and waited.

I got the carburetor a week or so later, bolted it on, put fuel in the tank, hooked up the battery cables, and turned the key. After several seconds, the pony sprang to life. Once the choke released, the car idled so smoothly you would never know it was running. I was beside myself with joy and looking back, it was one of the most memorable days of my life.

I kept the car in its original condition and drove it throughout my high school years and beyond.

Several years later, I fractured my neck while riding in another car. Unlike many others, I avoided any paralysis, but did endure the barbaric brutality of cervical injury treatment of the day. I spent a great deal of time in hospital settings over the next several months where I encountered others who experienced cervical injuries and were not as fortunate as I was.

Some months later, I decided to auction off my beloved Mustang and donate the proceeds to cervical trauma research. When the gavel fell, the car brought in over $100,000. Ironically, it was 20 years later when I would fracture my neck a second time and my fractures were treated by technology that my “Bullitt” may have helped fund.