I figured I should probably dive in where this whole thing started: My love affair with the Boss 302. As I briefly mentioned in another post, I fell in love with the Boss when I heard one start when I was in North Carolina. He had parked across the street and hearing that insane noise bounce off all the cars around me when it started was enough to really cement my love for the Mustangs. I instantly turned my back on my Challenger and knew I needed to find a way to get something I could start tracking.
Fast forward a couple years, I heard a clip of the GT350 at the Nürburgring and knew that had to be the one. I knew it was the car for me because it was the first time I didn’t care what color the car was, just that I had to have it. After a couple years of obsessing and calling what felt like an endless number of dealers, I found a dealer in Alabama that was willing to sell under MSRP. I arranged to have the car shipped without having ever test driven it, without having ever driven a Mustang, and without much manual experience at all (I moonlight as a semi-professional questionable decision maker). What I did have though was an abundance of overconfidence and underqualification, my favorite cocktail.
When the car arrived, it had been sitting in the dealer showroom for quite some time and had an incredibly low battery. The guy who brought the car out of the trailer was awesome and jumped the car in the middle of a four-lane street and sent me on my way. I made it about half a mile to my driveway and proceeded to stall it with half the car hanging out into the cul-de-sac. With no battery charger in sight, I called my buddy which happened to have it and explained to him how stupid I was. Over the course of the next two hours, I decided to pop the hood and throw on the FP catch cans I had ordered because why not choose that time to start modding? I’m nothing if not an opportunist (also an idiot).
After bandaging my ego and getting the car in the garage, I spent the next few months exploring just how much I liked taking perfectly good money and turning it into noise. I regret nothing.
Fast forward a couple years, I heard a clip of the GT350 at the Nürburgring and knew that had to be the one. I knew it was the car for me because it was the first time I didn’t care what color the car was, just that I had to have it. After a couple years of obsessing and calling what felt like an endless number of dealers, I found a dealer in Alabama that was willing to sell under MSRP. I arranged to have the car shipped without having ever test driven it, without having ever driven a Mustang, and without much manual experience at all (I moonlight as a semi-professional questionable decision maker). What I did have though was an abundance of overconfidence and underqualification, my favorite cocktail.
When the car arrived, it had been sitting in the dealer showroom for quite some time and had an incredibly low battery. The guy who brought the car out of the trailer was awesome and jumped the car in the middle of a four-lane street and sent me on my way. I made it about half a mile to my driveway and proceeded to stall it with half the car hanging out into the cul-de-sac. With no battery charger in sight, I called my buddy which happened to have it and explained to him how stupid I was. Over the course of the next two hours, I decided to pop the hood and throw on the FP catch cans I had ordered because why not choose that time to start modding? I’m nothing if not an opportunist (also an idiot).
After bandaging my ego and getting the car in the garage, I spent the next few months exploring just how much I liked taking perfectly good money and turning it into noise. I regret nothing.
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