Hey, this is actually my second post here. I have a currently stock 96 Mustang GT coupe, laser red, all the options, and other than the mandatory K&N and removed air silencer and Cobra R's wrapped in 275/40/17's on all 4 corners, she is tock, and waiting for my broke self to save up the money for the headswap.

You may be thinking why did he choose the name 68Stang when he had a 96 GT. Well, the story goes like this: My first car was a 1968 Mustang with a 289, C4 Auto 3-speed, and really peppy 2.79 rear gears . When I first got this car, she was not in the best of shape. Within two years, and saving what I could from my minimum wage job working only a hand full of hours due to my many extracurricular activities in High School, I finally got a nice coat of Porsche Red paint on her followed by a ton of clear. And this is the way she stayed until the summer of 2000.
I was on my way to Woody's (local Classic Mustang Guru) to pick up a new piece of stainless windshield molding because somebody thought they would "borrow" mine. On my way there I was filling spirited and passed a 1996 Mercury Grand Marquis 4door. It was baby blue. Woody's home and garage are located off of the side of a rural highway. I was stopped waiting for an EMT, no less, to go by so I could make my left into Woody's driveway. While waiting I check my rearview and notice a blue marquis approaching at a good pace. I thought nothing of it. I looked back up and he was even closer, and I thought "Well, he's got plenty of room to stop." I am preparing to make my turn when I look up again and see this blue beast as big as day in my rearview and I immediatly let off of the brake and shoved her into 1st and was about to smash the go pedal when I heard the loudest sound I have EVER heard in my entire life! WHAM! 50% of his front end met up with 50% of my rear and launched my car into at least 1 1/2 donuts and landing me in a ditch on the side of the road while he coasted up the hill. I estimated his speed, along with the other state troopers to be around 65-70 at the time of impact. I slam my shoulder into my door repeatedly but it was stuck, so I then grow a brain and go out the passanger side door. I run up the hill and assist the driver of the other vehicle.
On my way back to my destroyed rolling restoration I grab my fuel tank which was waiting patiently, 50 yards away from the mound of still which gave birth to it, for me to move it to the side of the road while countless gallons of 93 octane spilled out. (Who says classic Stangs turn into fireballs upon impact!?).
Upon inspecting my car I notice that the roofline is way, way out of whack. My rear passanger quarter panel is now at a downward angle. My driver's rear quarter panel now resembled a crushed soft drink can with my tail light panel and bumper now located above my axel which was slightly bent. Driver's rear subframe is nonexistent at this point. Both rear tires are shot obviously. I look to see why I could not open my door. I notice that the floor pans are sagging in the middle, and my door is what stopped the compression of the body around me. At this time I notice that my back seat had become my new headrest! I lifted the hood only to see my brand new fan shoved through my brand new radiator and that the engine, my dear, dear 289 now faces slightly North, Northeast. My recently rebuilt tranny had both front and rear seals busted.
About this time Woody shows up and we try to figure the amount of bondo it's going to take.
The paramedics, the ones that I was waiting on to pass ironically are the ones to aided us. They, along with the troopers were surprised I lived, much less was walking around. I came out with a mild concussion, mild whiplash, and mild abdominal strain. I was out running fine within 2-3 days.

Sorry for such a long story, but it's the only way I can tell it. This is a nice board you guys have. Thanks for having me.

 

welcome

nice story