My Ride or Die
It's nothing personal. Well, actually, it is.
by David Elwell
Not a Boss
In the fall of 1972, the week my dad turned 17, he went out and bought himself a brand new '73 Mustang off a Ford car lot in South Jersey. He had saved from childhood to have enough to pay $3,600 cash. Being the frugal fella he was, he selected the base version Hard Top with the 250ci inline-6 engine. It was nothing like a Boss 302 or even the Mach 1 with the impressive 351. No, his was the fuel-economy version. The meager performance of the 99 horse power engine was excused because of all the cash savings that would come with getting up to 19 miles per gal. It came in light blue, or as my dad always called it, "robin egg blue." The Mustang was that young man's pride.
Changing Seasons
Fast forward some 15 years, and my parents moved our family to western NY. We were well south of Buffalo, but were very much in the region of annual lake effect snow. Due to the lengthy winter seasons, the roads were regularly and heavily salted. The Mustang was the family car for several years. However, as you can imagine, the resulting rust destroyed much of the metal body. My dad arranged to sell the Mustang to his dad; my Pop-pop's retirement project came in at a cool $300.
My Pop-Pop had it for about 5 years. He worked with his neighbor to restore the body. The neighbor had a paint shop, and he gave it (as my Pop-Pop would put it) a "semi-professional" paint job. It was Father's day, 1997, when my Pop-Pop and Nana drove up from NJ and gave the Mustang back to my dad. As a high school dude, I was smitten. My brothers and I thought that car was the coolest, fastest, sportiest race car ever. It's funny looking back, but at the time, that car was a big deal to me and my friends.
Throughout my senior year, I would ask my dad how much he would want for it. We were then a family of 6, and the car was not a primary vehicle for the family. It saw little use, and I really thought it was something special. Or course, he had 4 sons, and he would not commit to any deal with me until things really made sense.
The In-Between Years
In early 2001, nearly a year after I graduated high school, I had joined the Marines. I didn't think too much of the 'Stang while I was away. I certainly had other things to occupy my time and energy, but I hadn't forgotten. And neither had my dad. When I came home on leave that year, my dad had the car in the driveway. As we pulled up, I saw it and said, "Oh sweet, you got the Mustang out." To which he replied, "Yeah, and it's got your name on it. You'll just have to sign the title." Whaaaaaaaaaaaat did he just say?
Dang. I certainly didn't deserve it, but I was grateful. That was a special moment.
I wasn't able to have my car with me for a few years. I bounced around to several spots in the states before getting stationed in Okinawa, JA. Then of course there were the deployments. While I was away, I let my brother take his girlfriend (now wife) out to some special event. (It was prom or some such thing. He asked, and I said "sure.")
It wasn't until 2008 when I was stationed in Twentynine Palms, CA that I was able to get my ride. Katie and I were expecting our first child, so she got to use our primary car... you know, the one with AC. Meanwhile, I endured the daily 110°+ temps with my trusty 'Stang as my daily driver. There was something really special about having that car in the desert. During the periods I wasn't deployed, I got to hang out at the local Cruise Nights with my buddy's souped up SRT8 on one side and a local 100yr old Studebaker on the other. The desert was hotter than Hades during the day, but the dry warm evenings with those layered purple-to-rose colored sunsets were made for cruising. Again, special.
All Grown Up
The Mustang has travelled with me ever since our Mojave desert chapter. I've only done little things to it over the years: a new starter, brake lines, chrome trim, etc. Otherwise, it is still all original. My kids enjoy it whenever I pull it out. It's strange to think that my oldest son is already past the age my dad was when he first bought it, and he's nearly as old as I was when it was given to me. Every time I see a Mustang, I'm quick to point it out to the kids. (For some reason, they still get confused every time I point out a Fox body.)
For me it's never been about the performance. I'll let everyone else argue over the superiority of having the most HP in a stock, street legal configuration or which cars consistently set the best quarter mile times. My Mustang would probably get beat off the line by an electric moped just as quickly as a ZR1 or any form of SRT. I don't mind.
It was the car my dad wanted; it was the car he went out and got. It's the car I wanted, and the car I've been given. It's very much a part of my family story. It has been around since before my youth, and it proved trustworthy when life was stretched the most.
While it's nearly time for a full rebuild, it continues to truck along just fine.
I appreciate my ride or die.
~David, co-owner; Mustang guy, but not a real car guy
Cruise Nights at Aviator are 4-8p on the 4th Saturday, May - Oct. Roll on in and share your story!
