Ever since I yanked the engine out of my Imperial, the average age of the vehicles I have driven is roughly ten years old. That isn’t a bad deal at all…my Chrysler, my wife’s truck, my in-laws’ vehicles, and everything else I’ve wheeled around have heat, air, power everything and more. Most have leather seats. Only two don’t have satellite radio. And I would hop into just about any of them and drive them anywhere I damn well felt like it without worry. Compared to the beaters I started out with on my own, which would make me nervous driving around town, I’m doing just fine…or so I normally think.

Some of you might recognize this particularly eye-catching 1980 Ford Mustang Ghia. It’s my wife’s car, her first, and it’s currently in a not-quite-stored situation. To ease a burden off of our budget, it doesn’t have insurance on it and for the most part has sat dormant in the garage where I yanked the Imperial’s engine. I would start it every once in a while, but for about a year and a half now, the Mustang has been parked. Only in the last week has it seen any sort of movement…I brought it up to our house to do a once-over and check on the condition of the weak-suck 4.2L V8, tires, transmission and overall health. Other than having to clean out the shredded shop towels that some mice had gotten ahold of and the typical mud dauber nest removal, the old Fox has held up pretty well. After filling up some fluids and giving the car a good rocking to mix up the fuel, I made the decision to take the car for a quick backroad spin to see how the bearings and brakes are holding up and to give the coupe some exercise.

From the moment I opened the door, I’m transported back to when I was a kid messing with cars. I love older vehicles for this…nothing wrong with the newer cars, but you can’t deny that there is something lovely about an older car. Slide the key in and instead of a pleasant (and easily ignorable) chime, you get a buzzer that can and will scare the shit out of you if you aren’t ready for it. The Mustang has this buzzer, but it works intermittently, so it sounds like Homer Simpson is strangling a crow. The dash lights aren’t soft and warm…they are bright and meant to be seen. The key is mechanical, not an electronic deal, and as you turn it you feel the levers in the column respond. The engine doesn’t fire right off…the 4.2 suffers no fools when cold. You have to let this car warm up, and it’s probably best if you shift the automatic into Neutral while it’s doing that. Since it proudly wears loud-ass Flowmasters, it sounds like a 5.0 GT that wants to fight instead of a Mustang Ghia that barely had 120 horsepower on a good day. Once things are up to temperature, sit in the flat seat, shut the tin-can door, and shift the fairly old-school shifter into Drive and go. The steering is power, but compared to what I have been driving, it’s extremely communicative. The brakes are an on-off switch, which gets tested when a GMC Sierra backs out in front of me and I’m treated to four-wheel lockup…no ABS here! The dash lights glow green, as if nuclear powered, and while the only proper word for the Mustang’s performance is “limp”, the noise and sensation actually make up for it. Cruising a two-lane at 55 miles an hour is honestly nice. Push your luck, and the car will be unhappy, but in it’s designed element, it’s spot-on, if slow.

fFrom the thin, cracked steering wheel to the noises coming from underhood, driving this Bright Caramel coupe is more rewarding than any of the other cars we own. Sure, any of the other vehicles would hand this little pony it’s ass at any racetrack, anywhere, anytime. Sure, the 13-gallon or so fuel tank is about as useful as a one-armed trapeze artist with an itch, and yes, the canvas top is in the middle of self-removal (read: disintegration), but I’m not only reminded why I like older cars, but invigorated to get the Imperial up and running. Somewhere in the 1990s the sensation of a vehicle changed, and I’m not so sure it was for the better. Even my father in law’s 1997 Chevrolet Tahoe feels better than the newer pickups that the family owns. There hasn’t been one newer vehicle I’ve driven anywhere that makes me feel like I’m a part of the system instead of just the monkey cranking the wheel. The car won’t save my ass if I screw up…I have to be a decent driver. I have to know what I’m doing. The Chrysler won’t allow long wheelspin and denies any kind of hoonery. If the Mustang could break traction, it would spin tires until I let off of the throttle and slide wherever it felt like.

Don’t get me wrong…I love satellite radio, seat warmers, and all that. But the second that Raven is up and running, I will be driving it more than the Chrysler, period, enjoying the old school feel, smells, and sounds. As for the Mustang? All I can say is “to be determined”.