Some people don't find it until middle age; their break for freedom and grasp at what they see as one last chance of happiness is called "mid-life crisis." Others encounter destiny while young, and keep the spark going until they can bring home their own version.
We met in our teens, a quick glance that turned into wishful thinking. In my early twenties, we got better acquainted and I was knocked breathless by a heretofore unfelt power. Then it was taken away, and I spent the next few months longing and pining to feel that rush again. Somehow, some way, I would get that amazing thrill back; even if it meant saving up and building it piece by piece over time.
I didn't let anything distract me from my object of desire. While others deferred their dreams, I plotted and planned until one day that glossy red metal machine was in my driveway. Patience is what maintains a love over the long haul; learning what needs to be fixed and putting aside other needs to help your dream along. Many years later, we're still providing each other with miles of pleasure. I may look for a second at a flashy new sports car, but it's not the one I've grown to love. My red Mustang GT will be with me forever ~ till death do us part.
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"Oh how it’s been so long, We’re so sorry we’ve been gone, We were busy writing songs for you. You don’t have to worry, cause we’re still the same band. You don’t have to worry, you don’t." - Panic At The Disco, "We're So Starving"
After injuring my rotator cuff at the end of '07, I was forced to stay out of my Stang for a few months while it healed. Anything that required raising of my arm above 45 degrees, including computer work, caused pain. Electrode treatment, physical therapy and rest have finally healed it. I probably won't be producing marathon blog entries or graphics anytime soon, but it's nice just to be logged back in.
I brought my growling wolf of a ride to work and the old joy flooded back into my heart! "I thought it was a guy driving up, and then I saw you get out..." said the amused security guard. I asked why, and he said because of how fast and loud I'd rolled into the parking lot. I told him, "That's How I Roll!" 
So I'm back to read all about your Mustang adventures, and can't wait to see what everyone's been up to!
I may not say it often enough to make you feel appreciated... but deep down, you know the feeling's mutual. Even though I'm not the mushy type, there are times when you've just got to let someone know...
To everyone who voted for AmericanMetal in the October Car Show - THANK YOU! You're awesome and you made my month.
You're awesome and you made my month. I got a migraine so bad that I had to leave work early, after an encounter with what must surely be the Baddest Import in the entire state of Tennessee.
I wish I had a picture. But my cell phone curled up and shrieked in horror when I tried to capture this vision for your admiration.
We've all seen half-hearted attempts at Japanese car personalization. This, my friends, made the familiar ricer look like child's play. It was so extreme that it was fascinating -- RIVETING in its sheer, awful splendor and pursuit of extremity.
The commitment to alteration ran so disturbingly deep that this car was transported to another astral plane.
I'll try to tell you about it, but fear that words are not sufficient descriptors for something none of my previously-used adjectives are accustomed to depicting. That's right. My words ran away screaming too.
A boxy subcompact, it may have been born a Mitsubishi Lancer. But its body lines were now distorted beyond recognition by ledge-like strips of molding down the sides and a sheet metal platform bolted onto the rear deck. The doors were painted dark metallic gray, like a glitter-covered shark.
The roof, bumpers and hood were midnight blue fading into deep purple, dolled up like a Mystic Cobra groupie trying to get backstage.
There were Harry Potterish silver stars down both sides. Purple and silver stripes criss-crossed at random points on the doors, though I had to look away several times and can't be sure of their exact placement. The decal of a nationally-known customizing emporium graced the bumper, and 20" chrome wheels adorned the four corners of this bedazzling jewel box.
Not just any wheels, but the type that look cut from a slab of metal with a few round holes rather than having distinct spokes. Being familar with the televised exploits of this shop, I'd say they were Davin Revolution 7.2s.
Not an inch of this car was left untouched. Even the taillights gleamed like oval crystals in the sun - which, by the way, was also shuddering at what its rays had revealed.
Mr. Merlin had painted the wing reflective purple and silver, and decorated the air vent on his hood with silver stars. He rested in the front seat, coiled like the guardian of an elaborate genie bottle as he monitored his surroundings for admirers. Maybe he was on his way to NOPI to pick up a prize for Best Disguise - Exterior, because it looked like he'd spent a fortune on making the car completely unidentifiable as any known model.
I was torn between fascination and horror. I doubt I'll ever see anything like it again. Nor do I particularly want to. It was as if my eyes had eaten an entire box of Twinkies; something that might be tasty in moderation imbibed in O.D. proportions.
What's the craziest car you've ever seen?
I was in a cemetery, where thousands lay watching my every move.
This month's Ultimate Hunt accessory, a skull, waited in the car. I got the required photos, but felt a little bit wary.
Then I saw this sign.
"Rest on embalmed and sainted dead,
Dear as the blood ye gave.
No impious footstep here shall tread
The herbage of your grave."
A clear warning from the denizens of that field:
Do not make light of our loss by posting pictures featuring a plastic skull from Walgreen's.
So it is with some reluctance, but a greater sense of relief, that I refrain from using those two photos.
They won't haunt me tonight.
Since I can't post followup hunt pics, check this out - the rear view's even better. This car has a big white Honda H on the trunk lid, coffee can muffler and unpolished scaffolding for aerodynamics. Plus the dented door and what look like flat black spray-painted wheels.
]]>Our time here is not guaranteed. I want to enjoy every day. My family doesn't get it - they're more practical. They didn't have a friend whose life was cut short in her early 20's in the World Trade Center attack. They haven't experienced 500+ hp after-dark escapades. They don't understand how the rush of being thrown back in your seat can eclipse all of that day's worries. For that moment, at least, you are in paradise.
I'm so happy to have found this site, where we're all into Mustangs. Most of us want to make our Stangs the best they can be: the fastest thing on the planet, the most amazing sound system ever, or the most beautiful piece of horseflesh to trot across a monitor.
Even if you've just gotten started and have $10 to spare each week - there's still a place for you and tons of encouragement. Hey, I've been there - you think the same way, just need some time to put your dreams into action.
Here I can find role models, ideas, and just plain cool people who think the same way. From newbies who have just discovered the site and have finally gotten their dream car, to the highest caliber of show competitors, they're all here.
Crimsonblack reveals the artistic nature of our cars, from Trey I've gotten spiritual and auditory inspiration, from Riddick & Fierce Rage models of creativity, from Nicole the courage to be myself instead of some anonymous gearhead, from Brad an attitude adjustment i.e., not to take things so seriously... I've even been saddened as what I considered one of the greatest Cobras ever, Legend, met with a horrible fate. Everyone who's stopped by my site and left words of encouragement is so much appreciated. I kinda keep it on the down-low in real life, so as not to encourage haters. You're the only ones who see what has really been done to my car, and your feedback is welcomed.
What's really great is that our military Mustangers are well represented, and hopefully get access whenever they can. You are the bravest of the brave. God only knows what you come face to face with each day and still hang in there.
So now that I've blabbed on and on... what do you all like about Got Stang?
Isn't this cute.
I came home and found a little Miata squirrelled away in the garage.
The rational was: it's not taking up much space. Since we don't have kids,
it's totally practical. And it'll hardly sip any gas over the next few months...
Right - waiting for that cold winter day when my MUSTANG GETS HUNGRY!
How can someone park an import next to a Stang called American Metal?
I'm going to paint fangs on my car bra to scare it. 
So I limp into the tire shop and wait there like a moron as it's patched, admitting by my presence that no, I don't watch where I'm going and yes, I'm lazy. 
After confirming that an "accidental" sudden launch won't tear the plug right out, I wait.
After confirming that an "accidental" sudden launch won't tear the plug right out, I wait. Lined up outside are the cars waiting for podiatry. One by one, they're brought inside. I have no clue if it's been my turn yet; they all sound the same with their raspy little purrs and tentative travel...
Then, like the call of a long-lost love, I hear a throaty rumble. The young dude sitting across from me looks up. It's either his truck, or my Precious.
An irrepressible smile spreads across my face as the driver revs her a little more than necessary. I totally understand. There are only three people waiting, and two of them know it's not theirs. Eyes slide toward me while trying to act indifferent.
It's fixed in a flash, keys are collected, and what's this? A huge SUV blocks the exit. Oh dear, I just have to take the long way around. Mr. Import Subcompact, sweet dreams. Mr. Young Trucker, this ain't your Bigfoot. It's easy to get used to something you drive every day. It takes exposure to the real world to make you realize just how sick a beast you've created. So get out there and truly enjoy your Stangs, everybody!
For those who gave the ultimate sacrifice, and for their loved ones, this is a small electronic note of thanks. Family members, nobody can feel as you feel. My deepest commiseration goes out to you, as well as highest respect for those ultimate heroes; your loved ones; our guardians.
This poem is dedicated to all the GotStang members who have served, or are currently serving, in our military.
American metal does not break
These colors do not run
Molten, honed for freedom's sake
Tensile strength second to none.
You are asked to stand your ground
Where demons fear to tread
As voices of your families resound
Inside your watchful head
Keep the faith, this too will pass
Hold on to what is real
Your inner strength is what will last
Through fortune's turning wheel.
Your valor in the face of fire
Does not go unsung here
We ride behind you, tire to tire
Know that we hold you dear.