Bullitt for the New Millennium

I’m not a car guy, at all. I hardly know anything about them, I can’t generally tell one make or model from the other, I’m not much more than just a functional driver. I drove a Jeep for a few years mostly because my brother liked them, and it was the cheapest convertible I could afford so soon out of college. As far as I can remember, I’ve never really gotten all that excited about a car other than the hybrids, and that was just because of all the computer screens.

But I keep seeing the new Ford Mustang and thinking Daaaaaaamn. If that was my ride I would truly be bad ass. I haven’t had that gut reaction from a car since I was around 12 and got convinced I wanted a Trans Am so I could be like both Knight Rider and The Bandit.

I don’t know if it’s because of my early mid-life crisis, or some over-reaction to all the Fiona Apple and Norah Jones, or if it’s just my inner redneck. And I feel weird getting all excited over a Ford. But just look at the thing — that’s what a car’s supposed to look like. Not some ubiquitous black Volkswagen Jetta that might as well have “GENERIC CAR” stamped on the side in Helvetica right over a UPC barcode that you drive to the Pottery Barn and the Apple Store. This is a bad-ass V-6 that you use to haul ass down to the Wal-Mart to get a butt rock compilation CD and crank it all the way up, man while you’re driving God knows where thinking about NASCAR and how automatic transmission is for pussies. And blogging.