This article originally appeared in the January 1966 issue of Road & Track.

It's an everyday occurrence for an editor to commission a story. But for the editor and publisher of automobilia's answer to American Heritage to commission the construction of a car is, to borrow a phrase, a case of man bites dog. Yet this is exactly how the car on this month's cover came to be. Scott Bailey, the man who is Automobile Quarterly, pried a bright red fastback Mustang out of Dearborn, got Alitalia to fly it across the Atlantic, and commissioned Carrozzeria Bertone to rebody it.

As in any such commissioning, there were stipulations. There were to be no mechanical changes. Well, practically none. It was to be ready in time for the New York Automobile Show. (Like everybody else's exhibit, it was, but just barely.) And it was to be any color Nuccio chose as long as it was not the same color as when it left here. But that was it. No "It's got to be lower than the underside of a Fruehauf." No "I want a fastback just like Jayne Mansfield's Ferrari." No limits at all. Which makes Scott Bailey a good guy in any carrozzeria's eye.

It's worth a moment to wonder why the Mustang should have been chosen as the foundation for this effort. There are two reasons: the magic of the name (like quietness, nothing from Crewe is sacred), and the fact that popular or no, the standard Mustang is not the most beautiful creature on four wheels. Opposed is the simple fact that the Mustang is nothing more than a drastic re-bodying of the Falcon/ Fairlane; a far more than skin-deep job but one that did not reach the suspension. A less visually oriented patron might have asked BOAC to fly the Mustang to England for the attentions of a suspension designer-fabricator.

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Anyway, the deed was done and here is the car. Here on these pages, not on these shores, for now that Don Frey and Lee Iaccoca have had their pleasures with this design exercise, it has returned to Europe to do the auto show circuit, Paris. London. Turin. It's a lovely car to look at and one may hope that it will become part of FoMoCo's traveling exhibit for the various domestic auto shows. Pending seeing it with your own eyes, let me describe it to you.

If any common spirit pervades Bertone's wide range of automotive creations (see Carrozzeria Bertone, R&T June 1965), it is nothing more radical than his careful mixing of the functional— aerodynamics, visibility, ease of entry-exit and sheet-metal forming— plus an equally careful sprinkling of exotic tidbits. The Alfa Canguro and the Iso Grifo, both intended as colorful, way-out machines, have handsomely overdone slots in the front fenders to permit air to leave the engine compartment. This same function is served in a calmer fashion on the Mustang, a calmer car, with a grille that matches the texture of the one in front of the radiator.

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The latter is itself simple and tidy, almost inconspicuous. The tradition of identifying cars by the grille is probably the reason why the grille is now such a dominant feature in any production car's design. (Likewise taillights.) While racing GT cars have shown that grilles are unnecessary, saving thus both weight and dollars, this works only on very low cars. Despite several tricks that we will discuss later, this is still a somewhat taller car than those you see on racing circuits and some sort of grille is desirable. The simplicity of the one Bertone designed is very pleasing, filling the gap without detracting from the intense interest of the body, itself the identifying feature of this car.

Before getting to the body. I'd like to get in some words in favor of Bertone's use of four headlights. Two will suffice: more illumination. The usual virtue of retracting them of course applies; they stay clean until they're needed. And by retracting them symmetrically. Signor Bertone has managed to ensure that they look "right" in either position, a solution not yet achieved by many. While the grille verges on looking too wide when the lights are folded away (see cover), retraction does save you offending those to whom "quad" lights are an abomination.

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The body itself is elegant in its simplicity, two words that are seeing hard use in this text. Its stainless steel roof lightens the canopy visually, a technique that says "expensive" while retaining structural simplicity. Yet the rear quarter window seems an awkward confluence of lines and shapes that merge no better than rush-hour traffic. The fake roll bar is too precious to help much in justifying the arbitrary angle of the trailing edge of the door window. But I'm picking on small details. Overall, the Bertone Mustang is as refreshing as a pretty girl.

It's always fun to look at a pretty girl, but when it turns out she's the kid down the block grown-up, it becomes interesting too. Never thought her freckles would disappear, did you? Seeing Carrozzeria Bertone's handiwork on such a familiar car is rather like seeing a gourmet chef make an epic lunch out of last night's leftovers. Nothing wasted. Bertone didn't save every single part from the original body, but he didn't throw them all away either. It makes you realize that, like black and white and a multitude of grays, there is no hard and fast line between California Kustomizing and Carrozzeria Craftsmanship. Except that carrozzeria is not pizzeria. Taste is all. Lead, dum-dum, and the original parts are materials, raw and unvalued in themselves. Use them or dis­card them, alter them, invert them or throw them away— or even use them on another project.

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It's like a game to search this Mustang for Ford-built parts. Some are camouflaged, some are simply used unusually. The humble ashtray, for instance, is strictly FoMoCo and very stock. In fact, so is the contour of the lower surface of the dashboard into which it slides. I don't know if the dash metal itself is Ford in origin but its contour is. Because it's an acceptable shape, one that Bertone could work around with success, and because the ashtray fits it. And who wants to diddle around building custom ashtrays when there are fenders and hoods and roof panels to do?

The rear jumpseat folds down to make a luggage shelf and then you recognize it too as stock hardware. So is the little door to the trunk. These are perfectly good items, well worth retaining, but they're reupholstered in light cowhide-like vinyl that's unmistakably non-Ford, of course.

The gas cap is in the same place but the gross original has been replaced by a smaller one. Similar in appearance, horse emblem and tricolor patch in the center of a chrome circle, but now in appropriate scale to the narrow shadowbox tail section. Did Bertone have a modern-day Benvenuto Cellini carve this out of unborn chromium? Certainly not. It's the working hub of the original cap surmounted with the emblem pried off the horn button.

The steering wheel, but of course, is wood-rimmed and what's more, its horn button is wood-trimmed. Automobile Quarterly, as befits its name, has for its emblem a quatrefoil with circular leaves, perhaps to symbolize wheels. Four of them to make a car, and for the four issues per year. Bertone's staff, being stronger on woodcarving and inlays than on solid gold salt shakers, made a wooden horn button with this quatrefoil inlaid in various grains and tones.

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That's not all that the driver enjoys. Bertone did insist on one change to the chassis. He installed a shorter radiator. It's a simple change, one we could do ourselves with the aid of any small town's radiator rebuilding shop. Just knock out about three inches and solder back together. One change, and what a cornucopia of benefits. The long hood can now slope downward from the inch or two lower cowl. The nose is now so much lower that it makes the standard Mustang look tall and perpendicular. For the driver, this is a genuine improvement. Now he can see the road close in front. It's not as good as a VW by far, but at least when you crest a hill, you don't have to propel yourself out of the seat to make sure the road is still in front of you.

I don't know whether the amount sliced off the radiator will ever make a difference in cooling the regular-gas-burning 289-cu-in. V-8 on a summer day in Albuquerque, but even if it does, the embarrassed driver can console himself with the thought that warped Ford heads are cheaper to replace than warped Ferrari heads.

Bertone fully exploited this minor modification. The hood panel itself has three bulges. Time was when we called them power bulges and once we'd seen aerial type Mustangs we opened the front of them for ram air pressure. Eventually we found this actually hurt carburetion so now on working show cars like this the bulge over the carb is closed, at least at the front. The two little scoops with real openings? A styling trick to accommodate the upper end of the front shocks.

Let us leap to the driver's seat for a moment. The chassis is unchanged? Then how can the Bertone Mustang be any different to drive? Aha. That's one of the beauties of this business. You customize the body and the handling is improved. Take my word for it, it is. First there's the better visibility. Over your shoulders as well as the hood. There's no blind spot and in heavy traffic it's easy to keep track of the neighbors.

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I found the driving position dramatically better (and our family chariot is an all-too-standard Mustang with all the handling options). The key is not the lowered hoodline, however. Nor is it the handsome Reutter-equipped reclining seats, although they help. It's as simple an item as the chop job on the radiator. The steering column has an extra universal joint. It's in the vicinity of the dashboard. The last foot of steering column slants upwards and the wheel is at 28'/2 degrees from vertical instead of the 21 degrees on a standard Mustang. If (big word) the cowl had been lowered without this universal joint being added, then the wheel would have been closer to vertical than stock and I dare say the car would have been both uncomfortable to drive and nearly impossible to get in and out of. This solution is not one that will appeal to Detroit cost accountants, but perhaps I have the impression that the seating configuration is one of the first optimums to be traded off. In Detroit or anywhere else. Except in Italy, if one may be permitted a generality.

Driving this Bertone-bodied Mustang is more rewarding than being in the normal one. There's lots of attention from other fastback-fanciers, only one of whom asked if this were a special Barracuda. (With all else they must put up with, New Yorkers on wheels have to be forgiven questions like this.) And on lonely roads, the Bertone Mustang seems closer by far to achieving that mystical purity we call the essence of sports car. The lively performance is now supplemented by a keener sense of control. You see with ease where you, the road, and its other occupants are at all times. The steering wheel fits your hands more comfortably, it connects to the optional quick-steering box, and aside from the giveaway Americanism of the V-8's exhaust, you can Walter Mitty yourself into a Ferrari with very little effort. On a parkway.

Let me digress to explain why I can only presume what the mountain road behavior is.

When Mr. Bailey installed me in his jewel, there were all the usual cautions. I must doff my non-existent hat to Scott for getting to me. "Uh, say, Steve, you know these wheels are specially cast of magnesium for Bertone. Well, he wrote me a letter when he shipped the car saying that because they had not been cast under his supervision, he could not warranty them. Whatsoever. And, uh, before you go, I'd like you to sign this release form. Just write your name here. It absolves me from all liability, you know, just in case. Well, it's the same form Ford Motor uses" (literally so, right off their pad) "and I know you don't mind signing for them." Hmm. I signed. My lawyer says never to read these things, it makes a better case later on. Better for him, I suspect. So I went tiptoe wherever I drove, visions of shattered wheels dancing before my eyes. So I can't report how much the 6-in. rims or the fat jolly 185-X-14 Pirelli Cinturatos help the cornering.

Because when I got to my house I took them off, replacing them with the steel-mounted I65-X-15 Cinturatos that live on our family Mustang. But I still didn't practice the Great American Rally route.

Another reason I swapped wheels and tires was because those Italian castings are ugly as sin. (In Italy that's ugly?) And I have a big thing about Baby Moons. See Automobile Quarterly if you want to know what the cast wheels look like. Or turn back to the cover.

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