It had a 289 and four on the floor,
Mickey Thompsons all around.
At nineteen I couldn't ask for more,
It's wheels barely touched the ground.
It was maroon, with white racing stripes,
It was a dream come true.
It could really roll, and that's no hype,
My Mustang really flew.
Santana and The Eagles came from the deck,
And Jr. Walkers hot torrid sax.
All around, it commanded respect,
It was Ford engineering to the max.
I loved that car, I swear I did,
I'll never see it's like again.
It was the one that fed my id,
It used to drive the girls insane.
10/8/11 Alton Texas
Juan Olivarez's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (1967 Mustang by Juan Olivarez )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
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