Our '65 Mustang

"TheRealBicycleBuck" (therealbicyclebuck)
11/09/2020 at 13:54 • Filed to: None

Another post r escued from t he drafts:

I’ve related this story several times around Oppo, but I learned more about what actually happened , so I thought I would share.

All of this happened in the early ‘70s, so I don’t have any actual memories of it. Until recently, all I knew was from the story my mom rarely told. She wasn’t outside to witness the event as it unfolded, so even what she had to say was second-hand. One of my uncles told his version of the story at my mom’s funeral. It was the first time I’d heard it from someone who not only witnessed it, but was involved.

My dad was doing some engine work on a ‘65 Mustang convertible with a 289. I’m saying “a” Mustang because it wasn’t “his” Mustang. I don’t know who it belonged to and I don’t know what their agreement was. I don’t even know what work he agreed to do.

We were living in a small apartment in Houston at the time. This wasn’t one of these big complexes we see today with gated entry and large parking lots. This was a few buildings with off-street parking in front of them. I do remember that there was a courtyard with a pool. I suppose it was like a motel with the parking around the perimeter and common space in the middle. If you had to work on your car, you did it an off-street parking space with traffic rolling by. My uncle said there wasn’t even a decent sidewalk in front of the parking spaces to give you room to move around.

I don’t know what job they were doing, but the last step before buttoning things up was adjusting the valves. On the 289, the process involves starting the engine and while it’s idling, tightening the rocker arm nut until it stops tapping, then tighten 1/4 turn more. As my uncle told it, he was doing the passenger’s side as my dad did the driver’s side. Unfortunately, they didn’t get to finish the job.

As soon as my dad started the engine, my uncle got to work. He managed to get a couple of them done before some oil splashed onto the exhaust on the driver’s side and caught fire. In the ensuing panic, my dad, with an engine fire right in his face, grabbed the nearest bucket of liquid to extinguish the fire. Never mind that it was an oil fire. Water wouldn’t have helped. But he made it much, much worse - that bucket was their parts cleaning bucket and was filled with kerosene.

What was a small oil fire turned into a major conflagration.

Fortunately, my uncle has a calm nature about him. He stepped around to the driver’s side, shut off the engine and dropped the car into neutral. He stepped back around to the front and pushed the car away from the apartments and into the street so the whole place didn’t burn down. Then he ran inside to call the fire department.

The fire department came and put out the fire. I guess the owner didn’t want his Mustang back, so w e be came the new owners of a slightly crispy ‘65 Mustang convertible. I’m pretty sure this was one of the events that led to their divorce, so I o nly have vague memories of t ha t car. I’d really love to have it now!

DISCUSSION (7)

Just Jeepin' > TheRealBicycleBuck
11/09/2020 at 14:09

I wish I were like your uncle, but I’d probably be more like your dad.

Back when I had my del Sol I had a battery that was going bad. One day at a gas station I couldn’t start it, so a couple of guys helped me push it into a parking spot.

I was guiding it from the open driver’s door when I realized that it was going to hit another car. I started pushing on the A pillar to get it to stop when one of the other men yelled at me to just sit down and hit the brakes.