Awd Ford Freestyle Wagon, Suv Cross-over on 2040-cars

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Project Ugly Horse: Part VI

Solid axle? What solid axle?
I was fully prepared to embark on a seven-day journey down a rabbit hole of broken bolts, internet hearsay and consternation.
This should not have gone this easily. Having a long and checkered history of simple projects punctuated by much wailing and gnashing of knuckles, I was fully prepared to embark on a seven-day journey down a rabbit hole of broken bolts, internet hearsay and consternation when I finally decided to lay hands on the '89 Mustang with the goal of relieving the car of its stock rear axle. Instead, it took less than a full morning's worth of work to carve the old 7.5-inch solid axle from its moorings and mock up something, well, different.

Amelia Island 2013: 50 years of the Ferrari-slaying Ford GT40

Originally developed with the sole purpose of being a Ferrari rival to compete at the 24 Hours of Le Mans, the Ford GT40 became a prominent racing machine in the 1960s in both Europe and the US. Not wanting to leave such an important car out of the fun, the 2013 Amelia Island Concours d'Elegance also took time out from its other celebrations to recognize the 50-year anniversary of the GT40.
Over its short lifespan, the GT40 was offered in a handful of configurations, but the classic short-tailed (Mk I and Mk II) bodystyles were well represented... especially in Gulf livery. James Glickenhaus (of Ferrari P4/5 fame) had his bright yellow Mk IV in the field, and there were several others in this bodystyle, including one that has seen plenty of time on the track judging by its chipped-up nose.
As a fitting statement for the car's lengthy racing history, GT40 Chassis Number 1075 won this year's Concours de Sport award. This car took home the checkered flag at Le Mans in 1968 and 1969, and racked up a total of six wins in just 11 races.

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.