Before The Fast and the Furious ever hit the silver screen...
This is a picture of the car the day that I picked it up from the original owner. It was early Spring of 1997, I was barely 17. The car had slightly under 45,000 on the mill and was completely unmodified.
These are after I had it painted and purchased HUGE (at the time) 16 x 8 wheels in June of '97.
This 1988 Mustang GT was the fruition of the finances that I acquired during my pizza-tossing, grass cutting, and general laboring expenditures while I was in high school. If I could track her down, I would buy her off of her current owner tomorrow. I had such a heated love / hate / love relationship with this car. Shortly after these pictures were taken, the 302 literally blew up (while doing a nitrous burnout at Keystone, injuring the gentlemen whose job it is to spray the burnout box). The guys in our garage convinced me to go apeshit with the "rebuild". I was working as a manager at Pep boys at the time, the income was there, so I figured, why not? The small block was replaced by an 11.5:1 Eagle forged 466 C.I. 385-series BBF and a HAL built C-6. I have a few pictures of the engine / chassis / suspension build laying around somewhere. Once I realized I'd most likely kill myself driving this thing when it was all said and done, I parted the drivetrain out and purchased the black '95 GT that occupies another thread in this section.
I really wish I would have photo-documented the build of this car, however, in 1999, digital cameras and camera phones weren't commonplace, and film was just...
...well, my friends and I, we were street racers. We didn't give a shit about documenting anything. We were young, stupid, and after bragging rights. More often than not, secrecy was the name of the game. Now days, when my gear head friends and I from the old garage get together and tell "back in the day" stories about the cars that we built, blew up, and rebuilt, only the folks who were lucky enough to be present for those few years tend to believe them, however, folks in the Laurel Highlands still tell stories of the Mustang crew from West Newton in dimly lit parking lots in the wee hours of the weekend. I miss those days.