My Father's 1971 Ford Mustang

As a young boy, I used to hang out with my father a lot, and one of the things I remember the most was that he always liked to work on cars. He had many cars over the years, but the one that always sticks out in my memory as being particularly special was his black 1971 Ford Mustang.

My father would always brag about its Cobra Jet engine, and I loved the front end spoilers. I distinctly remember asking my dad why the 1971 Ford Mustang only had two doors. He explained to me that not all cars had four doors and how that just would not work on the Mustang, and from that moment on, I wanted a two-door car when I grew up.

Even with all of the interesting features that it had, I think the reason the 1971 Ford Mustang was so special for me was because of all of the time I got to spend with my father working on it. He would be changing the oil or checking the transmission fluid, and I would be sitting in the front seat of the car asking him questions, some about the car and some about other things.

I remember the long rides we would take in the Mustang and how much fun it was for me to get to ride in the vehicle that meant so much to my dad. It made me feel proud to see all of the admiring glances that we would receive and I distinctly remember listening to oldies radio as we cruised down the road with the windows rolled down.

My dad made it a point to wash his 1971 Ford Mustang every Sunday afternoon and then meticulously wax it to bring it to a nice shine. I loved to stand and look at the car after it was washed and waxed, and I especially loved the look of accomplishment on my father's face once the job was complete. I would help him with everything that I could, and he would always tell me what a good job I had done. I felt so proud.

Times got pretty rough for us as a family when I got into my teenage years and my father had to sell his 1971 Ford Mustang. He acted like it was not that big of a deal, but I could see the pain in his eyes as he handed over the keys, and I felt gutted. He gave the money to my mother, who looked quite relieved but sad at the same time. She knew how much the car meant to him.

A few years ago, I thought about purchasing a 1971 Ford Mustang, but I just couldn't. That was my father's car, and while I loved it and always imagined owning one myself one day, I think that is a memory I want to associate with him more than anything.