Yes folks, FORD, which in some instances stands for, “fix or repair daily” in some Ford owners minds, is launching its, “build your own Mustang” promotion. AND…it will only cost you $15,000. Such a deal!
Geez, I couldn’t even afford to buy a 1965 Mustang at around $2,400 when it was first manufactured in 1965. What makes those bozos in Detroit think I can afford it now at $15,000? What…..are they nucking futs?
The 1965 Mustang all set to be customized for anyone with $15,000. On my budget, all I'd be able to afford is what you see pictured.
WAIT! I get it…….it’s for those 1% people, not us 99%. (sigh) Cripes, I can’t even afford to gas up my truck let alone fork out $15,000 for a 1965 Mustang. Besides, if I even had $15,000 to fork over for one, why would I want to buy a replica of a 1965 Mustang when I could buy a new car? Yeah, I know, the nostalgia of it all.
Frankly I have a bit of nostalgia for actually seeing dollar bills in my wallet instead of moths. And if I had $15,000 of those dollar bills I sure as hell wouldn’t be handing them over to Ford for a 65 Mustang. Why the hell should a 65 Mustang that sold for $2,400 in 1965 cost $15,000 in 2011? I don’t get it.
WHAT….is it gold-plated or something and come with an autographed photograph of Elvis? Or at least a GPS system with Elvis’s voice giving you directions. “Um…take a left “Hound Dog” and ya won’t travel “In The Ghetto” to meet that babe at the “Heartbreak Hotel” for that, “One Night” stand to get some “Burning Love” as you drive in your 1965 Mustang singing “I Want You, I Need You I Love You.”
Hmmmm……might be worth it then. Maybe they could throw in a “Good Luck Charm” while they’re at it too.
If you so choose to actually consider handing over your $15,ooo to Ford to make you a 1965 through 1966 Mustang, you can select your own engine, axles and interior. Other parts that you may want you will have to find on your own. Like tires, front seats, steering wheel, windows, etc. Hey, I’m just guessing here but that’s what the press release said….”other parts” you have to get on your own. Gawd knows what the hell THAT means!
I personally, being of an era where my first car was a very unsexy 1949 De Soto, (pictured) would prefer to fork over a few bucks for THAT car rather than a 1965 Mustang. The De Soto was a freakin’ tank. Solid as a rock and built to last with hardly any plastic parts. With the exception of little tiny round emblems encased in the door panels with little pictures of De Soto himself. Only because when Hernando De Soto, Spanish explorer and conquistador was conquistadoring here in what was to become America, he drove a De Soto. Everybody knows that. Which is why they honored him with those little pictures.
My 1949 chick magnet De Soto.
Furthermore, in that De Soto you could actually remove the radio yourself, which weighed 50 pounds, change a headlight, pull out the engine and put it back in one hour, not hear any outside noises once you closed the door, and had a back seat that you could have an orgy in without getting a hernia. How great is that!
Can ya do that in a 1965 Mustang? Maybe, but you’d have to be a damn contortionist and seriously keep an eye out for the gear shift while you’re in the throes of passion. Personally, I’ve heard many a horror story about floor shifts and throes of passion. Not a pretty sight.
Um, not that I have ever experienced that problem mind you.
There were other amenities that the De Soto had that stick out in my feeble mind. Ivory! Yep, ivory on the shift handle and window knobs made from actual ivory which I assume came from De Soto’s country, Spain, where ivory was quite in abundance due to the number of elephants roaming all over the place, which De Soto may have brought with him (the ivory) to America and sold to the Chrysler Corporation shortly before he crossed the Mississippi. My guess anyhow.
So, for me the Mustang doesn’t really doesn’t rock my boat, or float it. At least not for $15,000.
Now, if they offered a De Soto, I’d jump at the chance just to have the opportunity to once again head off to a drive-in or a neat secluded parking spot and once again experience the throes of passion in the back seat of that car……and not worry about that stinkin’ gear shift.
Problem is…….finding an existing drive-in or a secluded parking spot that doesn’t already have a damn Wal-Mart or Dunkin Donuts built there. (sigh)
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Yea, the DeSoto also had an exterior extended visor that protected the windshield from roof drips. And a back seat “couch” for real drips.
I might buy that new Ford—I have a old couch with built-in mattress that swings back (heh heh) that I can use for a backseat; lawnchair (missing a web) for driver’s seat; coupla dogs I can plunk on the hood (not only for display, but for wiping the windshield); a few mirrors from my manly toiletry set for rear view and side mirrors (while I mention it, an extra toilet for those “special occasions,” put it in the trunk, or maybe as a driver seat–dunno); a set of wheels from a discarded lawnmower; the engine from that same lawnmower; wax buildup from both my ears, and from melting a few cases of candles, for the car finish so as to prevent rust; an old transmitter radio–also from that era–with a case of batteries so I never run out of music or miss the bad news of the day; a pair of fuzzy dice I won at a carnival once (they’re a little worn from sleeping on them when I was drunk–once); and a blow-up doll as a fake passenger to use in the HOV lanes.
All I need are brakes (oh wait! there are no floorboards, just have to stick my feet out, or the blow-up doll’s feet, for stopping–no need to worry, I’ll only be going 2 mph with my new lawnmower engine).
All I need now is the $15,000. Hey! I have great credit! I can just get an equity loan on my almost foreclosed house from a bank that doesn’t screw me with detailed underwriting.
Found On Road Dead-ly,
Doc
Obviously you’re right on top of things Doc…..but the one item anyone knows all seniors such as myself need, (yourself included) would be that toilet….and, again, I must stress this point, located on the driver’s seat for those moments when someone cuts you off, you just can’t make it home, and for that one special moment, where there’s a cop on your tail and you’re smoking some really great stuff.
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