There is often an element of tragedy in comedy. And this car is pretty fucking hilarious.

A review drive like any other this was not. We met up with the owner between a lab and a maintenance building at university, with a major problem at hand: the car had no coolant. Now, how many engineering students need to surround the car to fill it up with water? If you guessed 5, contestants! You win!

After watching someone get sprayed with boiling fluid, we three piled into the mustang and set out for a drive.

Now, this isn’t any foxbody, no. This car is the Christine of Daytona Beach, a machine solely dead set on inflicting as much mental and physical anguish on its owner as possible. There has NEVER been a car with so much allure and character than this, it’s an occasion just to sit behind the wheel.

The real story behind this V8 powered weapon of destruction begins with a nightmare. Less than 24 hours after the current owner bought the pony car, it decided to wage war on him. It as if the car rejected any human body that sat inside and yearned to be set free, because _ hours after the purchase it burnt to a crisp. Thank god the blaze didn’t get to the nitrous tank in the trunk, but maybe that’s the car’s way of saying “I’m not done with you yet”.

Many, many long months of trying to piece the wreckage back together from a fire engulfing the engine bay led to disaster after disaster. From the car being homeless, parts not being delivered, work not getting done and a million other issues, the Mustang had a strong desire to torture whomever came in contact with it. Much to its dismay, the resilient owner managed to push and shove the wretched beast back onto the road once more. Yes, this thing was brought back from the dead to ride again. After fighting issue after issue getting it to run reliably, the review date was set. It was our turn to handle the monster.

Gingerly setting off, short shifting through every gear and heave-hoing at the powersteeringless rack, we start to feel comfortable putting the hammer down a little more. Perhaps the car sensed our ease, because before we knew it, Christine struck again. The hood latch failed, smashing and bending the hood up and over the windshield eliminating all sight out the front of the car. Yes, the fox definitely has a soul. That soul is a bitter, hateful bastard, ready to strike when least expected. Sadly, it cut the review drive short, but that was all we needed to see.

Thankfully, we already got enough seat time shotgun to get how this thing works, when it wants to work. To fully grasp this, the full extent of modification must be understood and NOT understated. Let’s go over some specifics, ok?

-Fully built Ford 302 V8 with pistons, cams, heads, valves, Holley carb, MSD box and anything else in the Summit racing catalog

-Tremec 3550 5-speed with short shifter, performance clutch and polyurethane mounts everywhere

-Built Ford 8.8 rear end with 3:55 rear gears and a diff locker

• -Tubular suspension all around, 5-lug conversion with beautiful Cobra R wheels and giant Cobra R brakes
• -Fully redone interior with fresh Thunderbird turbo seats and a bunch of aluminum goodies sprinkled about, plus a half cage and harnesses
• -Did I forget the Nitrous?

Now that you truly see how this fox is no ordinary Mustang, we’re happy to report it doesn’t drive like any ordinary Mustang neither. The first thing that immediately draws attention is the handling. A heavy rack paired with sticky tires and a trick suspension setup leads not much confidence cornering yet an incredible amount of corner speed (if you have the balls). The real treat is that motor, though. It revs to audibly uncomfortably high rpms, using every bit of that 5.0. Redline is “who the fuck knows” because it far exceeds the tach. Honestly though, this car is best for cruising. The perfect Hot Rod Powertour tagalong, with all the performance to kick ass at the strip and the drivability to chill on the backroads. Seats are comfy and 90’s squishy, shifter is very mechanical and notchy. Kinda like operating a crane, or how I’d imagine someone from the 60s operates a crane. There was a clear amount of care put into this death machine, and perhaps it only started acting up when separated from its original owner. She has spunk though, an attitude even when working properly.

As fate has it, the ending of this story is still in suffering. As much as the current owner tries to get rid of her, she just won’t leave. On the day it was leaving to go to a new owner, the transmission gave out , locking it in fifth gear indefinitely. Just another gut punch for its poor caretaker. But that’s what this fox does, it’s perfectly evil.