What It’s Like to Drive Ford’s New Mustang Bullitt

The lane of oncoming transaction ahead of me is clear, so I use one paw to spin the wheel to the left and target the hood of the car up Pescadero Creek Road. My other paw is cradling the white cue ball that surpasses the stick shift, and as I tighten my traction, I push the stick forward and away to lean the car into third gear.

I back away the control and press the accelerator–really, just generating it a little nudge–and my passenger and I go leapfrogging straight up the hill, the exhaust gases popping and burping behind us. The mighty Brraapp comes rippling up through the back of the car and swats our ears in the same way a soaked, low B-flat from the sousaphone in a New Orleans brass banding sounds you when you’re standing a little too close but you don’t help because you’re so lost in the heat and the booze and the rhythm. I push down harder toward the floor, and suddenly we’re doing 54 mph straight up the hill. It’s exhilarating.

I shift again, to fourth gear. With each new slit, the tone of the exhaust goes up and down as the engine fast automatically adjusts to coincide the new preference of gearing. With the publication of the clutch comes another detonation of decibels. Braaaaaah. Suddenly we’re propagandizing 70. I chuckle and say it again, the word I’ve been croaking like a mantra ever since I made the rotation 20 instants ago, the word that specifies this vehicle, the word that should be embossed onto the ego sheet at the factory: Silly.

Chase Me

The beast I’m driving is the 2019 Ford Mustang Bullitt. It’s a special version of the Mustang that Ford developed and introduced into busines to salute the 50 th anniversary of the cinema Bullit. In that movie–if you retain, and I know you do–there’s a notorious car chase place where the good guy( Steve McQueen) drives a light-green 1968 Mustang fastback as he chases the bad guys’ black Dodge Charger up and down the hills of San Francisco. It’s readily the most beloved car chase in Hollywood history. When gatherings ascertained it in the autumn of 1968, it uttered the young Mustang–then merely four years old but already a hit–even more desirable, masculine, and sex. Never sentiment Steve McQueen.

The original Bullitt Mustang.

Ford Motor Company

This car, the 2019 Bullitt edition, takes all the greasy DNA of the fetishized original and folds it into a modern Detroit chassis. On newspaper, the $46,595 Bullitt Mustang is not far removed from Ford’s recent Premium GT model Mustang. It’s got a 5-liter V-8 with 480 horsepower and 420 pound-feet of torque. Top hurrying is a silly 163 mph. The rev-matching manual transmission has six rapidities, and changing between them is as easy as reciting the alphabet. The performance-tuned exclusion is borrowed from the Mustang GT, and the Brembo dampers are painted ruby-red so you can see them poking out from behind the front rims. In the panache is a B& O sound system and the Mustang’s brand new all-digital instrument assemble. The car is shaped, of course, like a fastback. Silllly.

Just like the’ 68 McQueenmobile, this Mustang comes in “dark highland green”( or straight pitch-black, but why would you ever opt that ?) and is adorned with choice bits of Bullitt bunting. The film’s logotype-in-crosshairs logo sets at the center of the steering wheel, on the passenger-side dash, and on the dummy gas ceiling on the rear where the Mustang badge would normally get. Then of course there’s that cue ball shifting grip, just like the one in private vehicles that was driven in the movie. When I first walked around the car, I believed all the Bullitt badging felt a little bit thirsty, but if you’re buying a Mustang, “youve been” do need to tout that your Mustang is more rare, more beastly, more repugnant, and more silly than the all other Mustangs. So be it.

Note the dark-green accents in the interior, the Bullitt logo on the motor, and the lily-white cue ball on the stick shift.

Ford Motor Company

Sound Transport

I take the Bullitt over the ridge and down to the ocean, where we’ll turn northern and run up Pacific Coast Highway. I find some stretches of superhighway where I can precisely cruise, and I promote my hand off the cue ball to research some of the prepares. The only one I’m truly interested in fiddling with is the exhaust mode selector. The nasty trumpeting I’ve been spraying all over the Northern California hills for the last hour reflects the results of Normal mode. I switch it to Quiet. It really is gentle. The car’s burn along the road isn’t lessened one part, but the air feels suddenly neutered, as if one of the world’s huge orators has relinquished the pulpit to a prissy auditor who begins rehearsing quarterly earnings announcements. I turn the selector up two notches to Sport mode. The foul rind comes back, deeper and stronger. Dare I try Track state? I dare. What a woof! I could be considerate of the category kinfolks enjoying their lunchtime buffets in their cozy homes stowed among the vineyards as we go wheeling past. But no. This is Bullitt. This is American might. Listen to my machine! I purposefully tell each gear rev higher than I should before up-shifting exactly to get the eardrums fussing. I implore my passenger to say it with me: Silly, silly, silly.

Soon, the administration is surrounded by minivans and Priuses as we go tight, afternoon transaction all the way up through Half Moon Bay and into San Francisco. Sadly, this will be the Bullitt experience for most buyers–a meagre 42 mph with abundance of red lights. But even when it’s stuck in the pencil, the Mustang can smell the open prairies. I can steal three durations from just about anyone off the line at a green light, and I make a game of it, doing it time and time again. Because that’s what bucketloads of horsepower and torque are for. It’s addictive. Even in commerce, I can’t stop giggling.

Mechanical Music

Ford Motor Company

At dusk, Ford corrals the assembled journalists into a concoction receipt at a used northward of San Francisco. Naturally, the bourbon at the open table is Bulleit. I expend some time chatting with the Ford company reps, all of whom are thrilled to be here, driving this auto on the very streets that established it prominent. We watch panoramas from the 1968 cinema, we dally Bullitt trivia games, we scoot Bullitt slot gondolas, and we kill pool applying a custom cue ball with the six-speed transmitting delineated on it. We talk about the Mustangs of our youth. I tell them how I learned to drive behind the motor of my parents’ 1988 Mustang GT convertible, which constructs us all smile.

When I ask the Ford guys about the differences between this Bullitt Mustang and the other current Mustangs, they rattle off a few stats but ultimately settle on one point: The key thing this car offers is a visceral know-how different from what the hell are you get in other Mustangs. When you roll down the window and hear the engine kicking, when you feel the exhaust gases greenback curl up the small of your back, when you look down and see that cue ball, you’re getting something absolutely unique. It’s fresh and rare and you can’t mimic it in any other vehicle. The original’ 68 fastback, which has its own vibe, doesn’t come close. The souped-up Mustang GT doesn’t make you there either. The Bullitt is its own singular and delicious brand of silly.

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