I recently had the privilege of spending a charming day with a pampered 1966 Ford Mustang. I’ve seen a lot of beautiful machinery both new and old come and go, but this one is up there with the most lovely and lovingly kept. It’s a humble car with the unloved, modest little six-cylinder engine, but it’s so much more than that. It’s a stunner of a car with a heartwarming story behind it—and the whole time I was shooting it, all I could think was that my mom would love this.
It happens more often than not—our mothers end up with a car, or a series of cars, that we as their car-loving children might call … uninspired. Their first duty has always been our well-being, and they’ve typically always taken the L by puttering around in something safe and sensible for our sake. However, if you ask your mom what she actually wants, she’ll probably tell you the same thing my mom would: “I’ve always wanted a Mustang.”
The original Ford Mustang, very much like this 1966 example, wasn’t actually all that intrinsically special. Even the most ardent Mustang fans will tell you that. It was little more than a hodgepodge of the then-existing Ford Falcon and Fairlane, with very rudimentary chassis design and milquetoast powertrains, for most the part. Most Mustangs were delivered with economical little six-cylinder engines, but even the early V8-powered GTs weren’t fast cars by any stretch, and none of them handled well.
Despite this, the Mustang was a runaway success, setting sales records that stood for years. It launched part way through 1964 and sold 22,000 cars on the first day, going on to move a total of 417,000 over the next year, and many millions more in the years since then. The Mustang was so influential that it named its own category—pony cars, referring to a class of compact sporty couples that would later include the Plymouth Barracuda, Chevy Camaro, Pontiac Firebird, and Dodge Challenger—and none of them ever came close to touching the Mustang’s sales success during the muscle car era.
The Mustang was developed with a few simple goals in mind. It had be small and light as far as American cars go, it had to seat four so as to be somewhat livable, it had to have bucket seats and a floor shifter so it could earn some cool points over it’s economy car brethren, it had to be cheap—and most importantly, its design had to appeal to men and women.
And women. In early 1960s America, it was a groundbreaking idea. It had to look as “sporty as possible” with a “Ferrari-like front end” and generally look “related to European design.” Before the Mustang, there had only been a scant handful of cars designed with women in mind, and they were nearly always incredibly tacky, very pink, and patronizing “for her” trim packages. Even these weren’t for women; they were for men buying cars for their wives.
By going directly after women instead of their husbands, Ford tapped into a well of the car-buying public very much like Nintendo did with the Wii, because it was a video game console for people who didn’t buy video game consoles. While the Mustang would go on to be known amongst car guys—I hate that term, for what it’s worth—for the fire breathing, chest-pounding GT models, most Mustangs people actually bought were relatively humdrum cars with smallish engines, but they were prized all the same for their iconic style and symbolic freedom that had been out of reach before.
This particular American icon was so sought after for its European style that it was imported to The Netherlands, and spent the majority of its life there. It was a treasured family heirloom and longed for nothing, even being subjected to a complete restoration in the late 1980s. Replacement sections of the body weren’t readily available in Europe, so most of what was needed was custom made the old fashioned way—by a skilled craftsman with an English wheel, a hammer, and patience. It’s kind of funny; the parts of the body made from scratch, like the upper door skins, actually fit better than the originals.
This example is nicely equipped, but no hot rod. Mechanically, it’s fitted with power brakes and power steering—both of which were options—as well as the very sought-after Getrag four-speed manual transmission. The equally sought-after Rally-Pac gauges brighten up the interior a bit, and the rare powered convertible top is a nice quality-of-life upgrade. Power comes from Ford’s bonehead-simple and bombproof-reliable 200 cubic-inch straight-six, producing all of 120 horses … once upon a time, maybe.
It’s the archetypal cruiser. It’s not about going fast; it’s got nothing to prove, free of pointless masculine phallus-measuring proclivities. It’s just a charming, lovely old car. The boat anchor of an engine fires to life almost instantly after a turn of the tiny ignition key like only a carbureted engine can, and settles into a smooth idle quickly. The clutch is lighter than you’d expect, and easy to read once you’ve adapted to the low bite point. In typical elder car fashion, the shifter travel is long, but it’s a tactile mechanical action that’s satisfying to row.
The driving position is a little awkward and feels decidedly old-timey. The large, thin-rimmed steering wheel doesn’t tilt or telescope, and the classic (read: flat) seat doesn’t adjust for tilt either. Even when it’s as far back as it can go, it still feels too far forward, and the steering wheel is close to your chest. I’m inclined to guess this is semi-deliberate on Ford’s part, to increase ease of use for cars without power steering.
Speaking of, said power steering is too powerful. It’s way overboosted, completely numb, and mechanically vague. With several inches of dead on-centre travel and loosey-goosey feel through a corner, the steering is basically a suggestion. It’s perfect for meandering down the road with your elbow on the door sill and two fingers on the wheel. Little can be said about the suspension other than that it successfully suspends the body of the car off the ground, and isn’t uncomfortable.
The raw technical merits of piloting a mild Mustang leave a lot to be desired, but if you’re focusing on that, you’re missing the point. This car is all about the vibes. Every one of the major western car building countries had a car that was cheap, cheerful, loved by masses and majesty alike, and by sheer force of coincidence, were all instant icons of style. The United Kingdom had the Austin Mini, Italy had the Fiat 500, France had the Citroen 2CV, Germany had the Volkswagen Beetle, and I’d say America had the Mustang. Every single one of these cars is a treat just to be around, let alone drive. You’re a hero everywhere you go.
It’s a cliche thing to say, but (literally) cranking down the windows, opening up the top, and just cruising is what these are built to do. They’re good at it. I make a living splitting hairs between the finer points of what makes a car a competent machine; this Mustang ignores most of it and I still loved it. It’s easy to understand, and it’s dripping with style and antique charm. It’s impeccably screwed together by the artisans in Holland who restored it. And almost everything you touch is metal, but much like the shifter, it has an intricate and sometimes almost delicate action. It’s a treat for the senses that proves cars don’t have to be fast in order to have fans.
My mom is possibly my biggest fan and our most devout podcast listener—I get an earful every time we miss recording an episode. She had an enormous impact in fostering my love for cars, and always encouraged my writing. I try to not “flex” with press cars; I don’t like to gloat about what I’m driving in any given week, but the very first press car I went out of my way to show to anyone was my first Mustang to my mom, because that made this real. I wanted to show this one to my mom, too, but it was sold—fittingly, to a mother in Montreal—before that could be arranged. Everyone and their mother loves a tidy classic Mustang.
The myth of the Mustang has long been consumed by the bravado of the mighty GT models, with the rest of the base Pony Cars written off as cars for posers—or worse, women. But it was women who put the Mustang on the map and made it the success that it was and still is. It’s power as a symbol of freedom is far greater than what is or isn’t under the hood; the Mustang’s influence stretches across the globe, quite literally in the case of this car. Few cars have known more love than the Mustang, and this 1966 Ford Mustang radiates the love it’s received throughout its life. More than horsepower or anything else, that love is what makes the Mustang what it is, just like mom’s love makes us who and what we are.
