I traded in my vibrant yellow Nova for an extraordinary 1966 white 289 Mustang convertible—a true muscle car that etched its memories into my heart. The visceral experience of breaking the tires loose, the sound, and the intoxicating scent of burning rubber down Main Street remain vivid in my mind.
The Mustang's glory was briefly overshadowed at the start of my senior year when both the engine and transmission faltered. Determined to resurrect my prized possession, I made it my auto shop project to rebuild the engine and replace the transmission. Stripping the engine down to the bare block, I meticulously reassembled every component. A hiccup surfaced when the pistons, with new rings installed, refused to cooperate with the crank. A white lubricant overdose necessitated starting the process from scratch, but the engine eventually roared back to life after nine months.
The saga continued when I discovered that the U-joint from a 1966 drive shaft didn't fit the 1965 transmission. In a dash of desperation, we raced to the junkyard on the last day of school to secure a used 1966 U-joint. We swiftly installed it, and my rejuvenated 289 engine rumbled to life as I drove it home for the first time in months.
However, a somber conclusion awaited a month later when, on my way to work, a head-on collision with another driver on Hwy 7 and Shady Oak Road totaled the Mustang. Despite the heartbreaking end, a silver lining emerged when a gentleman from the junkyard contacted me, inquiring about the engine's condition. I shared that it was practically brand new. I hope he gave it a new life, providing a fitting legacy for my rebuilt masterpiece.
