We officially purchased the car on Thursday, June 20th. My Dad, Mom and I drove into New York City to complete the paperwork and drive the car home. We had contemplated getting it brought out on a truck, but it turned out to be too expensive. Since the seller had driven it from her country home in New Jersey to NYC, we felt fairly confident it would make the trip out to Sag Harbor, but we planned a convoy, just in case. Dad would drive, as I still only have my Learner’s Permit, and Mom would follow. I would ride shotgun with Dad.
Driving a newly purchased ’66 Mustang through downtown New York in mid-June was quite the experience. No air conditioning meant windows needed to be down the whole time, and the combination of city noise, and, later, highway noise, was pretty rough on the ears. The driver’s seat is broken, so Dad was bounced around a bit, but once we got through the insane traffic and up to cruising speed on the highway, it was a blast (of wind in the face).
I felt a strange mix of nervousness, excitement, and disbelief that the car was actually mine, all at the same time. From time to time, other classics would pull up beside us. We would exchange thumbs up with the drivers, and continue on our way. Clearly, we were now members of a very special club, one that required no secret handshake, but simply a nod or a honk.
It seems like everybody that comes up and admires the car has a Mustang story. The day after we got home, we took the car to Long Beach to give it a photo shoot in the sunset. Every person who drove or walked by stopped to admire it and share their own stories and memories of the Mustangs of their youth. “Iconic” seems to be an understatement when it comes to this car.