When I was 7 years old, my Great-Aunt Grace showed up to a family gathering in her brand-new 1990 Mustang LX 5.0. Grace was an interesting woman. During the height of World War II, she worked as a typist for the United States Department of War. During the Cold War, she held a similar role in the FBI. Later, when I was a kid, she worked for the Tennessee Valley Authority. It only made sense that she would drive a cool car. I was obsessed with my great-aunt’s Mustang, and when I turned 16, I asked her if I could buy it. I’m glad she turned me down, because I was pretty crazy as a kid. I probably would have totaled it.
My relationship with Grace and her Mustang continued as I got older. When I was getting my degree in automotive service technology, she occasionally had me drive from Memphis to her home in Red Bay, Alabama, to fix her Ford. Grace enjoyed the car for 190,000 miles before she passed away in 2012.
The Mustang sat for four years without being run or moved before I took ownership. Luckily, Grace regularly put Sea Foam fuel additive in the tank, which kept the fuel tank and links from rotting, and parked the car under a covered spot, which protected the paint and trim from sun damage. But when I came to pick up the car with a U-Haul, it was covered in green mold and carpenter bee poop. My wife referred to the Mustang as a “crusty piece of…” and the name Crusty stuck.
Once I got the car home, I got to work. The car was filled with paperwork and scrapbooks—a history of Grace’s life and the life of the car. In one scrapbook, I found a letter of commendation from J. Edgar Hoover. Another book contained a photo of her with her Ford Falcon, which she traded to get the Mustang. She kept good records; I found a copy of the certificate of origin, a certified bill of sale, and even the canceled check she paid for the car in full. She had all the receipts for every little bit of maintenance.
I think Great-Aunt Grace custom-ordered the car, based on the tidbits of information that she saved. I found dealership business cards with option notes scribbled on the back. The Mustang doesn’t have a lot of features that you normally see on 5.0s with an automatic: It never had power windows or power mirrors or power door locks. The paper trail suggested that she was also considering a Ford Escort, but I’m glad she got the Mustang.
I wanted to make Crusty more reliable and livable, so I started modifying it. But when I got my Marti Report (a detailed record of FoMoCo vehicles) back, it said my Mustang was one of 13 with those exact paint and trim codes. I had already cut up the dashboard to relocate the stereo and HVAC controls. “Oh man, what have I done?” I thought.
I was already past the point of no return, so I went further down the path of personalizing my car. I added a spoiler from a 1979 Mustang Pace Car with custom aluminum end caps that my friend made for me. I was inspired by the taillights of the Ford Probe III concept, so I hacked up some cheap Amazon units and added LED strips to emulate the look of the lights on the show car. I’ve left the engine mostly alone, but I did dress it up by polishing the upper intake, adding a white intake pipe, and powder-coating various brackets and covers black. I’ve lowered the car using Eibach lowering springs and J&M rear control arms. If the engine ever goes kaput, I will swap in a Coyote engine from a late-model Mustang.
Like my Great-Aunt Grace, I haven’t been afraid to drive the Mustang. I’ve added another 30,000 miles to the odometer since I’ve owned the car—mostly driving around town and going to local cars and coffee events. Towing cars to shows is fine, but driving there is way more fun. I took a 1200-mile road trip to Charlotte, North Carolina, last October for the Foxtoberfest car show. I was terrified of getting hit by an inattentive driver, but the route was beautiful.
I don’t know if I could ever sell Crusty, even if someone offered me an outrageous amount of money. My family and I have too many memories with the car. I plan to give the Mustang to my son, who is 6 and loves to go for rides in it. Even so, like my great-aunt, I may find it hard to hand over the keys.
***
This story first appeared in the May/June 2025 issue of Hagerty Drivers Club magazine. Join the club to receive our award-winning magazine and enjoy insider access to automotive events, discounts, roadside assistance, and more.
Facebook Conversations