Mustang Review

 As an employee of Hertz Rent-A-Car, I get a discount on renting vehicles. I've NEVER known automotive bliss until I drove the 2011 Mustang Convertible. All summer long, I requested a weekend with a Mustang and I was denied due to seasonal demand. The magical brilliance of summer faded. The air became crisp. My hopes for driving the Mustang became tainted like the leaves on the trees. Just as the leaves were ready to fall from their branchy confines, I asked one last time. The area manager had given me the OK! I was elated as a little boy who had just received a new toy car. I left the office and proceeded to slot 63. There it was, a bastion of classic Detroit Muscle car era styling adrift in a sea of foreign midsize snooze-booths. Mine was royal blue (almost purple) with white side stripes, light colored interior and a black convertible top.

 The car was aggressively styled, as though it was a racing steed eagerly awaiting the opening of the gate. The massive front end jutted out prominently as though it were designed to cut through the quagmire of midday suburban commuting, a paintbrush to apply strokes of freedom and independence to a 35 mph canvas. Being a big guy myself, I found it slightly problematic entering the pristine machine. Once settled, I found the interior to be just as amazing as the outside. The gauges lit up with the opening of the door. One glance at them and it invoked a certain deja vu from all the classic car shows I went to as a kid. I felt as though I was just a boy peering into the window of a '68 Fastback at the local hot dog place. The gauge cluster was well laid out and I loved the fact that you can change the gauge cluster and halo colors, as well as the ambient interior light colors. I chose blue for my Mustang since it matched the outside.

 The key slid into the lock cylinder with ease. I was greeted with a conservative warning chime as I turned the key over the clunky stops. The gauges did a sweep to remind me that I was sitting in a 2011 Mustang instead of a '68. The V6 engine turned over under the big, long hood. The tailpipes burped out a healthy roar as the motor came to life. It idled smoothly, but had a nice exhaust tone that was faint with the windows and top up. I adjusted my mirrors, seats, and stuff (since I'm a car shtickler, according to my wife. She says that I have to have everything my way in every car I sit in). I turned my attention to the clustered center stack. I have to admit that the radio and climate controls seemed awkward and the buttons overwhelming. The climate controls were hard to get to with the shifter in park. It took a minute or two to acclimate myself, but once I knew where everything was, it was easy to set my favorite Sirius radio stations. It was easy as pie to sync up my Ipod to the Audiophile system. I was able to hide the Ipod in the center console, which was very ample for CDs and receipts and other miscellaneous garbage that seems to accumulate in mine and my wife's cars. I reset the "TRIP A" on the dashboard to see how many miles I would take her. I sat back in the leather seats, which felt to me as though they were custom built to my body, and breathed a sigh of relief and accomplishment. I was about ready to place the leather wrapped shifter into drive when I realized something totally obvious that I had overlooked. Duh! I was in a convertible. Putting the top down was a snap. Behind the visors are two handles. I pulled the handles and pushed the button with the convertible top going down icon and like magic, all four windows went down and the top followed. In a matter of seconds, the Gold Club canopy of the Hertz rental car facility was looming over my head as if to say "Hey, The view is better on the open road. Get moving!" So I plopped the shifter into drive and eased out of the slot.

 Being an employee, it wouldn't be wise to go hot-rodding on the lot. The security girl at the gate gave me a wink as she handed back the agreement and I rumbled to the first stop light. I was laughing like Beavis when the light turned green. I figured that since it's only a V6, it shouldn't be too peppy. I turned off the traction control and decided to get a little irresponsible. I stomped the accelerator and was thrown back into my seat as the rear 17" tires lit up, billowing smoke into the sky. I urged the front end to the left and the rear end swung wide to the right. I drifted that car around the Corollas and Impalas, noting their expressions of awe and disdain. After completing my power slide, the car righted itself and regained a stately, subtle composure as if to say "Huh? What power slide? I don't know what you're talkin' about!" I took it easy until I got to the entrance ramp for 190 East towards Chicago. I hammered it again and the mighty blue steed slid its way up the ramp and righted itself on the merging lane. I was met with a slew of Chicago taxi cabs. I know for a fact that these suicide jockeys don't yield to anything. They will bury that raggedy old, rustbucket, hacked up, deathtrap Crown Victoria Police Interceptor right into your vehicle without hesitation. I also, am somewhat of a hammerhead and I wasn't about to yield to the faded yellow beater taxi. He stomped the gas on his 4.6L interceptor engine and he rocketed ahead with a sickly roar, trailing blue smoke in his wake. Not to be outdone, I put the spurs to the Mustang. I have NEVER felt that kind of acceleration and torque from a V6 in my life. I easily paced the battered Vic. As the lane was ending, I couldn't help myself. I gave a little wave bye-bye and floored the gas. It had seemed that the Stang had a little reserve of power just waiting for me to break the glass "in case of emergencies." I hit the signal, lighting up the VERY COOL sequential turn signals and merged victorious. I set the cruise at 60 and completed my 35 mile commute. People stared at me like I was from Mars. It was 40 degrees out and I was cruising along with the top down and the defroster on. :)

 The next day, I was looking for a reason to take the Mustang out and I had the two rental car seats in the back. "Hey, honey. Let's go to the toy store. We'll take the kids. It'll be fun." We loaded up the kids in the shiny Mustang. My 2 1/2 year old daughter said "Little car", noting that the interior is smaller than my wife's '04 Corolla LE. We shoehorned the kids in the back. My 1 1/2 year old boy was stoic, unimpressed by the flash and pizazz of the shiny new car. He was still reveling in his post-lunch euphoria. I noticed the two downfalls of the mighty Mustang, Rear-seat room and trunk space. My little girl had no room for her feet. She laughed anyways, since it was a new car, but I could tell that this would be a problem. Regardless, we hopped in the car and fired her up. Once again, the top went down. My little girl's eyes went wide as dinner plates as the top disappeared. She had NEVER been in a convertible before. Instantly, she pointed to the heavens and blurted out "birdies!" The seagulls were less than impressed with their new fan. I treated the mustang nice for the rest of the weekend. The cold was too much for the kids. MY girl laughed, but my boy was looking at me, squinting through the wind as if to say "Dis is not-a fun. Yoo sed ders gonna be chicken nuggets on dis ride. It is too coldz for no-roof drivin'." I pulled over and put up the top. With the top up, it felt like we were driving a hardtop Mustang. No wind noise, no heat loss. It was a very pleasant ride. At the toy store, we had to divide the kids up, since there was no room for our big double-stroller (I call it the Cadillac). I bought a Hot Wheels '11 Mustang GT hardtop. It was blue with white side stripes.

 The day that I had to return the car was a sad day for me. I beat on her some more to get it all out of my system. Drifting around turns, peel outs, and a lot of aggressive driving. On the highway, I never took it over 70 except for once. The car handled high speed situations like a '68 Chrysler Imperial, except without the "Ahoy, matey!" feel. I pulled into the gas station to refill the car before returning it to the facility. I topped off the tank and reset the "Trip A." I calculated the average miles per gallon for the weekend. Guess what I came up with? I got 28 miles to the gallon! I was shocked. After all that whipping around and flogging the V6, I got almost the same MPG as my wife's Corolla (since she always uses the A/C or Defrost). Flabbergasted, I brought the car back into the return lane. The representative scanned the car and printed my receipt and asked "How was your Hertz rental experience, today?" I, for one of the few times in my life, was speechless. There I stood agape, staring blankly at this woman, with my hair all messed up from the top being down (I returned it down.) After a pause, I could only come up with one word to describe my Mustang experience...
"Awesome."

John C Kreuz
5-19-11