My Search for Mustang Sally

IN 1969, my mother, who had never had a sports car in her life, became the owner of a very special Mustang.

- MICHAEL A. PETERSON

One summer afternoon she was driving past the Ford dealership in Wilmette, Ill. and noticed a gleaming convertible in the showroom. The Mustang had white paint, a white top and white "bucket" seats-very unusual and sporty at the time. She went inside and asked a salesperson about it.

After explaining that one of Ford's most powerful engines-a 428 cubic inch "Cobra Jet" V8 with 335 horsepower-lay under the hood, he told her it "wasn't the right car for a lady." An early feminist and all-around rebel, she didn't hesitate to respond: "I'll take it." Her name was Sally, so the title of Wilson Pickett's song "Mustang Sally" made a nice nickname for the car.

Mom took us on thrilling rides all over the area (without seat belts) and got about 10 speeding tickets the first year. The big engine's carburetors needed to be blown out regularly, so she just had to take it up to 90-100 mph.

When we moved across the country two years later, we sold the car to a neighbor. This was tragic, because we had fallen in love with its gorgeous look, those top-down rides, the pure American muscle. We never quite recoveredit was as if part of my family's soul had been lost.

After five decades of vehicular nostalgia, I'd had enough and decided to undertake a secret mission to reunite my mother with the car.

Where to begin? My first thought was to get in touch with a Michigan friend who knew the Ford family. I told him the story and he excitedly said: "I'm calling Bill right away," meaning William Clay Ford Jr., executive chair of Ford Motor Company.