FORD MUSTANG
RUN BY Lizzie Pope OWNED SINCE October 2017 PREVIOUS REPORT October ’18
My ’65 Mustang might not need an MOT certificate these days, but it’s never a bad idea to let a fresh set of eyes give your classic the onceover, especially before a road trip. I couldn’t think why it should be anything other than a formality, but I’ll admit to some relief when the ticket was issued – it was reassuring, too, ahead of the longest drive since taking ownership. The diff oil was topped up and a few checks made, then we were ready.
A few days later, the car demonstrated its practicality; the boot easily swallowed luggage for two, plus the essential toolkit, and after giving our neighbours a silly o’clock eight-cylinder alarm call (sorry about that!), we were on the M3, heading to Portsmouth to catch our ferry to France.
It might have been an early crossing, but it was 25ºc and swiftly rising when we reached Caen, and as those in the moderns around us turned up the air-con and programmed the sat-nav, we wound down the windows, unfolded the maps and hit the road.
We’d decided to not be over ambitious, but the Loire Valley is still a good few hours from the ferry. It was an easy drive, the car in its element, cruising along autoroutes. Happy to make it there trouble-free, we had time for an evening digestif as we enjoyed the dramatic sunset.
The next day, although the Mustang started first turn, the gearbox wasn’t keen to shift. You may recall that in my previous report I said it was oversight and not a leak? I take it back. We’d packed some fluid, so topped it up and found a motor factor to replenish supplies, and all was well.
Indeed, fluid checking and topping up aside, the Mustang was a joy. All right, so there was that afternoon when I turned the key and nothing – or should I say rien – happened. Some underbonnet fiddling revealed that the earth had come loose from the battery; all was fine once it had been reattached.
The holiday was also the first time I’d driven the Ford in the wet, which was less of a worry than what we found after our usually garaged car had been left outside overnight in heavy rain. I was concerned that the windows weren’t sealing too well, but the seats were dry the next morning… unlike the footwells. With the water tipped out and the mats replaced, it was time to head out for the day, but I wasn’t a fan of cold rainwater dripping on my bare, sandal-clad feet as I drove.
The holiday was superb and, as a bonus, some other guests at our farmhouse accommodation had made the trip from Holland in a tidy-looking Citroën DS; what a pretty pair they made.
On the journey home, it would have been rude to not take time to swing by Le Mans and drive the Mulsanne Straight, and at a nearby supermarket it was fun to have a Pontiac Firebird park alongside us.
Nine days, 808 miles and rather a lot of transmission fluid later, we were home, all smiles. I’ve fallen even more in love with this car now – and the many grins and thumbs-up we got every day in France didn’t hurt!
A couple more items have been added to the to-do list – find where the transmission fluid is leaking and get the gearbox shifting properly and the car idling happily – but it was a brilliant trip.
‘We were happy to make it trouble-free, and still had time for an evening digestif as we enjoyed the sunset’