Full throttle on a tour of hidden Ibiza

Simon Horsford lives life in the fast lane in the Balearics when he hits the road in a Sixties Ford Mustang

The moment I saw the cars at Ibiza-based Mustang Adventures, my mind drifted back several decades to a now-vanished America. There was Steve McQueen, gunning his Ford Mustang Fastback through the streets of San Francisco in Bullitt while, in the background, I heard the voice of Chuck Berry, singing: “I’ve got a 1966 cherry-red Mustang Ford. It’s got a three hundred and eighty five horsepower over load. You know it’s way too fast to be crawlin’ on these interstate roads.”

Such is the initial impact of the classic American dream machine that the company hires out on the Balearic island. But enough of the fantasy. I was about to make the dream a reality and get behind the wheel of a couple of these “muscle cars” to explore Ibiza’s hidden away places.

Mustang Adventures have seven cars for hire on Ibiza, all first generation models dating from the midSixties, four of which are convertibles and all but one with V8 engines; all bar one are also automatic. For Mustang Adventures’ co-owner Conor McCarthy, the thrill lies in driving a car that’s “a throwback to a long gone era – it’s a bit like a time capsule. And it possesses a style we don’t have these days, and then there’s the sound and the physicality of the car.”

McCarthy told me what I could expect. “You have a huge amount of power coming very quickly and this is distributed to the back wheels, so you have to be careful of ‘fishtailing’. Steering on these classic cars is a lot less tight and more involving than on a modern car. It takes you back to that connection with the road, you have to be constantly aware. We want the cars to perform as they did in the Sixties.”

“Choose your weapon,” announces the website of Mustang Adventures, but it’s a hard choice. The red convertible 4.7-litre V8 289, dating from 1965, is like a prima ballerina, while the automatic 4.7-litre V8 289, from the same year, in distinctive dark blue with a black stripe, has more poke and is the heavyweight boxer.

I pick the red one first – the weather’s fine, so the top’s down. Strapped in with an old-style lap-belt, I checked the instrument panel with its pleasingly simple dials and switches, turned the key and the engine gently rumbled into life. After a glance at the map – we were heading for the quiet village of Es Cubells in the south-west – I pulled out of the garage with a jolt and a wobble. The clutch is much softer than I imagined and though there’s no power steering on this model the wheel needs only the lightest of touches. Soon we were riding smoothly. Back home, no one pays my car any attention. It’s quiet and unobtrusive and a bit mundane. This is different – people take notice and crowd around when we stop.

I get a thumbs-up from other car drivers. And the noise is something else: a magnificent, throaty roar. We pause at the pretty, whitewashed church in Es Cubells before moving round the coast road for a

‘I love driving them for the rock ’n’ roll buzz’