Although I was not born until 1971, the 1967 Ford Mustang always pulls on my heart strings. It was the first car my dad ever owned, classic blue. We still laugh about the stories that car had. When I was growing up, we went to my grandma and grandpas in that car weekly, if not 2 or 3 times... my grandparents lived by my cousins. We played a lot of football with my cousins and my dad and my cousins were constantly playing jokes on each other. One night, I must have been about 8, my dad and I were leaving, only to find a railroad tie laying across the backseat. It is quite funny now but not so funny to my dad at the time. Of Course it doesn't top the time they put rocks in all the hubcaps. My grandma and grandpa lived in the country, and it was such a different time, you could actually leave your keys in the car without worry of vandals. This however only gave my cousins opportunity to move my dads car to a different location. We had that mustang the entire time I was growing up, the time came one day and my dad said we needed to let her go, I can still feel the tears welling up in my eyes now as I type this, dad said it wasn't road safe for his family anymore. He found an out of the area junk yard, dad said he couldn't drive past a yard and see his car sitting on the top of a heap waiting to be crushed. The day dad was going to take her away, I remember kissing the seats goodbye. I must have been 11 or 12. I wish I had some pictures, but at 10, who thinks of that? I could only dream of owning a 1967 ford mustang. Oh the memories I would drive around with.