Look, I don’t consider myself a manual elitist jerk. I’m “man enough” to declare certain automatics are better than the stickshift alternative, but at the same time, some cars desperately need to be stick to be fully enjoyed. The 2024 Ford Mustang Dark Horse is one of those cars.
Ford hyped up this thing a lot. Any new Mustang is a big deal, but with the Charger and Challenger evolving into one Hemi-less offering, not to mention the Camaro’s future uncertain, there’s a lot riding on this sixth-gen Mustang’s shoulders. It’s the only way to reliably get the muscle car thrills we know and love today. The crazy part is, Ford actually nailed it. The base GT made us giggle, the GT with the Performance Pack made us cackle, and even the EcoBoost convertible put a grin on our faces with every sunset cruise.
That’s why this feels incredibly strange to say: the Dark Horse—at least in this exact flavour—missed the mark. And it all has to do with the transmission.
But first, some context. The Dark Horse is the spiritual successor to the Mach 1, which itself was the spiritual successor to the Mustang Performance Pack Level 2—or PP2. I really liked this package: you got 305s all around, sick-looking aero, big Brembos, magnetic dampers, and a lot more, on top of the already very good S550 Mustang, for roughly sixty grand. The Mach 1 was an evolution of that idea, but with some GT350 bits thrown in.
And the Dark Horse is a modernization of that. This new generation of Mustang is familiar overall, but sharper around the edges. You may just get a papercut if you run your fingers over the cut lines, tail lights, and aero bits. The new Mustang doesn’t quite sit right on the base GT’s wheels, but the Dark Horse’s upgraded 19s fill the fenders perfectly. That’s augmented by more aggressive aero all around, hood graphics, and finished off with a right-sized wing on the trunk.
And that’s what you can see. Underneath all that, the Dark Horse is powered by Ford’s venerable 5.0-litre “Coyote” normally aspirated V8. It produces a meaty 500 horsepower and 418 pound-feet of torque on its own. No forced-induction or mild hybrid assist here; it’s all cubes under the Mustang’s hood. Among the Dark Horse enhancements are forged connecting rods, stronger cams, and software tweaks. It sings its thunderous bellow of fury through the standard active exhaust, with settings ranging from I’m-a-good-neighbour quiet to oh-my-God loud.
But the one thing that single-handedly makes or breaks the experience is the transmission. A six-speed manual is standard, but it’s not the same gearbox as the regular GT. Here in the Dark Horse, it’s carried over from the Mach 1—itself carried over from the GT350. I fondly remember the almost Miata-like slickness and fluidity to the shifter, and heavy-but-easy-to-read clutch.
Turns out, absence really does make the heart grow fonder. This particular Horsey had the optional 10-speed automatic. When you’re hounding the car, it kicks down fast and rips through the gears, but you obviously can’t go full-send all the time. When you inevitably settle down and treat the Dark Horse like a normal car, the transmission sours the experience, tripping over itself with jerky shifts more often than you’d expect, and the paddle shifters don’t always respond to your inputs. I respect Ford for broadening the Dark Horse’s appeal to those who can’t—or choose not to—drive stick, but the manual is probably the way to go here.
Rounding out the Dark Horse’s upgrades you don’t see are transmission and differential coolers, an auxiliary engine oil cooler, and a lighter radiator. There’s a ton of suspension and chassis upgrades under the skin, too, including stiffer springs, more bracing, upsized Brembo brakes, and a lot more. Ford even relaxed the nannies to allow for more shenanigans before they kick in and save your bacon; the Dark Horse happily wags its tail and chirps the tires even with the nannies fully on.
It’s a shame about the automatic, because everything else comes together so well. The Coyote sounds absolutely ferocious with the active exhaust, and 500 horsepower in a Mustang without a Shelby badge is nothing to sneeze at. The chassis and suspension upgrades push the Mustang even further into “sports car” territory, delivering a sense of balance, feedback, and sheer grip that’s frankly bewildering for a Mustang. And although it’s easy to bemoan drive-modes-this and electronic-nannies-that, it all feels natural in the Dark Horse, inspiring confidence—and many, many giggles—without being a fun sponge.
As with the rest of the Mustang line up, the Dark Horse receives the same refreshed interior bits and tech upgrades. I say refreshed, because a good chunk of the cabin—the door panels, centre console, and seats, including the optional Recaros—have been carried over from the outgoing Mustang. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it: it’s easy to get comfortable, there’s plenty of headroom to accommodate a helmet—because race car horse—and it’s well-isolated enough from the outside world for a car of this calibre. Materials and fit-and-finish are OK at best; it’s clear the money went where it matters.
What is new is right in front of you: the dash trades the retro-modern layout and touches for a much more modern, dual-screen layout. The 12.4-inch digital instrument cluster and 13.2-inch touchscreen infotainment look crisp and are easy to use, but don’t look as well-integrated as before. The new Mustang also loses a good chunk of the physical switchgear and controls from the old one. Climate controls now live on the main touchscreen, and the retro-cool toggle switches have been swapped out for a touch panel below the vents.
I’m not sure all this is necessarily an improvement, but it modernizes the Mustang a good bit. And the Fox Body setting for the gauges is cool as heck.
Ford has all the right fixings here. It packs a big V8, big power, and a big list of track-focused hardware, but how the 2024 Ford Mustang Dark Horse comes together hinges on one key ingredient. It does all the right things, it makes all the right sounds, but it desperately needs a third pedal to truly elevate the experience. Oh dear, I’m a manual elitist jerk after all.
