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Reflecting on the Ford GT on its 10-year anniversary

Ten years ago, during the bright-eyed enthusiasm of the early 2000s and before the collective automotive industry did its best Titanic impression, we had the Ford GT. An everyman's supercar like there'd never been (remember, this was before 638-horsepower Corvettes were a thing), the GT arrived with a supercharged, 5.4-liter V8 that produced 550 horsepower and graced this retro-styled rocket with an easy, sub-four-second sprint to 60 miles per hour.
Equal to the GT's performance were its looks. Inspired by the GT40 racers that dominated Le Mans and bested Ferrari in the 1960s, the sleek, low, almost-reptilian look of the GT was the absolute pinnacle of the retro styling that so defined the early 2000s.
Crank and Piston put together a video celebrating the ten-year-old GT, arguing that Ford is a bit too busy with the next-gen Mustang, which turns 50 next week, to do it themselves. In the short clip, there is gratuitous engine noise and supercharger whine, not to mention scenes of the white-on-red GT prowling the deserts and streets of Dubai. It's a bit short, but very nicely shot. Scroll down, have a look and be sure to turn up those speakers before getting started.

2015 Ford Mustang specs revealed, GT to pack 435 HP

The 2015 Ford Mustang sounds great so far - at least on paper. Ford has just announced specs for the latest version of the iconic pony car in Dearborn, telling Autoblog that it will pump out as much as 435 horsepower and 400 pound-feet of torque from its 5.0-liter V8.
Those gaudy figures power the naturally aspirated GT model, and they easily eclipse the "more than" 420 hp and 390 lb-ft that Ford originally estimated.
The 2.3-liter turbocharged EcoBoost four-cylinder makes 310 hp and 320 lb-ft, and it's the first turbo Mustang since the 1986 SVO.

Project Ugly Horse: Part VII

Devils, Details and Weight Reduction
There are many things I could call this exercise. A party is not one of them.
I've spent three days crammed in the axle well of this 1989 Mustang with nothing to keep me company beyond a trouble light, a DeWalt drill on the very last of its legs and billion razor sharp, red hot slivers of metal with an affinity for my most sensitive of regions. My joints are raw from crawling around on the concrete. I'm half deaf from the shriek of the spot weld cutter and the boom of the cold chisel and hammer.