The Special Banana with a factory bench seat.

When I was 14 or so my parents drove out west to pick up a car my uncle had bought for my cousin who was about 6 months older than me. They had bought it through some family in Texas and my Dad was going to bring the car home to Mississippi for my uncle. My Dad was pulling a trailer behind his diesel ford to haul the car home on since when my uncle test drove it, he said it ran at very high rpm’s and was overheating. He bought it anyway despite these apparent flaws because the car honestly was kind of special. It was a 1956 Mustang Gt A-Code with a factory bench front seat (say that five times fast.) Springtime yellow was the color and the car looked and felt special to drive. I say that because while it was technically my cousin’s car, I have a surprising number of memories attached to it.

When we arrived to load it on the trailer Dad discovered that the car was not actually overheating or revving too high. It turned out that my uncle had put the automatic transmission in the wrong gear. No before you point and laugh in his defense the gears on these old Mustangs were not labeled with numbers and letter like ours are today. I have included a picture of the automatic below and if you can tell me which is drive and which is second gear then I guess you can laugh. Regardless I think we could all agree that Ford rightfully so changed this in future models. That said the car was not without its flaws. It had been painted at some point and some more flaws would become apparent as my cousin drove it. But regardless, it was a cool car.

When it was new its 289 cubic inch power plant with a four-barrel carburetor could produce 225 bhp at 4,800 rpm. That may not sound like a lot by today’s standards but in a car that weighs just a smidge over one ton it was more than enough performance. To put that into perspective a brand new 2021 base model Mustang weighs about 3500 pounds with 310 bhp. That is 172 bhp per ton. The GT A-Code would have a power to weight ratio of 187 php per ton. Now that is not to say the old car would win in a race as the improvements in transmissions alone would probably leave the old car in the dust. But it stands as an example of how the gulf between the new and old is not as wide as we might would think. The GT package came standard with fog lights and a much nicer instrument panel with more stylish tachometer and speedometer. With a three speed automatic As a GT coupe it was not the most popular version of the iconic car, but it did have one interesting, rare feature that set it apart from most. Out of the almost 390,000 coupes sold in 65 only about 15,000 had this option. That is only 5% of the total volume of cars produced. To get one of these cars intact was pretty special.

My cousin and I both got our drivers licenses on the same day. We even took drivers ed together during that summer and both went right to the DMV when we got our certificates. But I was about halfway through 15 at the time and my license was not a full license. I could drive anywhere in the state as long as it was daylight, but my cousin being older got her license outright. It did mean though that we often would follow each other to school since we lived right next door to one another. I remember often seeing the little car in the rearview mirror or catching up to it on a straightaway as we drove the long rout to our high school. I also remember the first time I ever flipped someone the bird was in the passenger seat of that car. Driving in town, riding with her to run some errand for our parents. They always had us picking up cars or taking them places to be worked on or detailed and she and I were the new low ones on the totem poles having just got our licenses. As we drove another driver pulled in front of her causing her to swerve and hit the brakes. She exclaimed in frustration that she wished she could give him a piece of her mind, but I had beat her to it, proudly displaying my middle finger from the passenger window. Not my proudest achievement of my youth but memorable all the same.

After a few hundred miles in the old banana, she pulled into my uncle/her father’s office and came to the file room to look for me. My Dad was out of town and in the days before cell phones my Uncle told her to consult with me about something related to her car. She said it was running poorly and she wanted me to have a look. I followed her downstairs to the parking lot where the car sat and opened the hood. The car still had the original 289 that it came with under there and at first glance it seemed to be in order. I asked her to turn the car over and when it fired, I immediately could see the problem. The whole motor bucked and shook in the engine bay like a washing machine with an uneven load. I hollered to her to turn the car back off and told her it would have to remain parked until my Dad got back. After his return and a lot of work my fears were confirmed, six of the eight cylinders were cracked, and the block was ruined. It seemed after 30 plus years of wear the little yellow car needed a new heart.

Luckily my Dad had a spare 289 lying around from his old Mustang. It was far from road ready however and so that summer I got more intimate with that motor than any before or since. As we tore down the engine, I washed ever part in mineral spirits inside my dad’s parts washer. Like I said, low man on the totem pole. I would wash for hours and go home that night with my hands raw and tingling from the brushes and mineral spirits. But I did not mind so much, it was exciting. I had worked on a lot of cars over the years, but I had never been a part of a rebuild before. Taking it completely apart, cleaning it, and putting it all back together was very cathartic. Applying the gold paint and the stickers to the valve covers was the last things we did before we put the engine back in the car and then it was done. This was probably my favorite part, with the new paint It felt special and putting on those decals made me feel like that engine was mine as much as the car was hers.

My cousin drove the car several more years and it continued to be a source of adventures for me. Like the time she had a minor fender bender at a friend’s house. The car was not even really damaged but when my dad got the call that she had been in an accident he stormed in my room and threw me out of bed. He did not even let me change clothes, so I showed up at the house, which was hosting a party with half of my school, in my sleep pants and a muscle shirt. It was not a good look for me to say the least. Another time the headlights would randomly turn off while she was driving the car, and no one could figure out what was causing it. My Dad and Uncle would drive it around it would never happen. My Dad asked me to drive it home one evening and I turned the fog lights on, even though there was no fog and sure enough the lights went out. It turns out that my cousin and I both turn the fog lights on to drive at night even when there is no fog but neither of our Dad’s ever do. They could not find the short because it was in the fog lights that they never used.

In fact, the few times I got to drive the car was when something needed to be fixed or just after something had been fixed. People had a bad habit of running into the front right fender and I think it was replaced and repainted at least four times. Eventually though my cousin graduated high school and got herself a new car. A 2000 Honda Civic which she drove for years. A good car that I would buy from her years later, but my Uncle hung on to the Mustang for about a year and then sold it to someone. I was very close to all my cousins growing up. I lost my brother when I was thirteen and my extended family really stepped up to love me and take care of me. We all had a lot of different interests growing up though we have a lot more in common these days. But one thing that has been consistent is that we all really like cars. It is funny how an old car can bring a family together and create memories that will last a lifetime. I will always cherish those memories.