The phrase "race car for the road" has been used to describe everything from the MG TC to the Lamborghini Aventador, so let's call the Cobra R exactly what it was, and is: a road car for the racer. It took five days in January of 1995 to sell all 250 copies of Ford's Mustang-with-5.8-liter-truck-engine Frankenstein, and you needed to show proof of a racing license and competition experience to add your name to the owner's list. The boys at SVT wanted this 300-horsepower Z28-killer out on the track collecting scalps, not sitting in the garage collecting dust.

The Cobra R package and the gas-guzzler tax that came along with it nearly doubled the price of a Mustang Cobra, taking the MSRP from $21,000 to $37,995. To put that in perspective, a new Porsche 911 Carrera was $61,200 that year and a new Accord DX sedan was $14,940. At the time, my friend Robert didn't have the money or the required credentials to become a Cobra R owner. By the time he'd managed to save up the cash, the Cobras were all long gone. Or were they? A local dealership still had a never-titled example in stock. It sat so long that the original-equipment fuel cell had rotted out, requiring the installation of a new gas tank just to get the car home and into careful storage.

Charley Willis

That's where the story would end for most people—with an exceptionally rare automobile safely tucked away for posterity, waxed to a deep shine and permitted to escape the garage only for the occasional fair-weather cruise. Twenty years after Robert's Cobra was built, it still hadn't cracked the 500-mile mark on the odometer. With a 997-chassis Porsche Carrera to handle daily-driving duties, he didn't see any reason to change that state of affairs.

Earlier this year, I contacted Robert with the idea of doing a story on his car. As a former Ford salesman who also campaigned a '95 5-liter Cobra in NASA's Camaro/Mustang Challenge race series, I'd long wanted to get behind the wheel of a 5.8-liter Cobra R. They were truly special cars, built in a single batch and all in the same color combination (crystal white exterior, camel interior) with Koni adjustable shocks and a rental-car-spec interior that intended to be ripped out the day after the owner took delivery.

Charley Willis

I had an idea that was so crazy I was sure Robert would veto it: Why not take it to the racetrack at the National Corvette Museum for a few laps? To my surprise, he agreed on the condition that I coach him for what would be his first-ever time on a track before taking the wheel myself.

Which is how I found myself heading out of pitlane behind the wheel of a more or less irreplaceable Mustang with just 540 miles on the clock. The tires were brand new, but the brake pads were the same ones installed in 1995. I'd sat with Robert for twenty laps prior to taking the car out myself and I was satisfied with the Cobra's basic mechanical integrity. I was also pleased with how quickly he picked up on the basic concepts of track driving. But now we'd be increasing the pace as high as I could lift it.

First impressions are positive. The 300-hp, 351-cubic inch V8, borrowed from the SVT F-150 Lightning with a few hot-rod improvements and requiring a special fiberglass hood to clear the intake, shoves the 3,350-pound Mustang forward with authority. By modern standards, this isn't a quick car, running fourteen seconds flat in the quarter-mile, nearly the same as my V6 Accord and a little bit behind a modern Ecoboost four-cylinder Mustang. But the thrilling growl of the overhead-valve V8 and the milled-steel precision of the Tremec gearbox say purebred racer to anybody who's ever won a plastic trophy behind the wheel of a pony car.

Jack Baruth

With 255-width tires and adjustable Koni suspension at all four corners, the Cobra R should corner, and it does. The way it accomplishes that task, however, will terrify anybody used to modern Mustangs. The steering is finger-light, courtesy of old-school hydraulic assist, and as the tires take a set midcorner the chassis flexes in a way you can both hear and feel. In the very first corner of the NCM racetrack, a 180-degree right-hander, I promptly slide into the door liner so hard I bruise my left hip. The seats are flat as boards and covered with extra-slippery mouse fur. Meanwhile the whole car is moving around at corner exit in a way that only a high-torque, short-wheelbase car with no traction or stability control can really move.

Down the back straight and through the Turn Four kink, the Cobra easily swings past 100 mph and requires just a brush of the brakes to run through the fast right-hand Turn Five. Watch out, though; this snake can bite. The reliable understeer built into most street cars isn't present here, and the back end can step out. Trying to heel-toe for the sharp Six-Seven complex, I quickly realize that Ford didn't much care about ergonomics back in 1995. I have to turn my foot entirely sideways to stop the car while shifting, and my failure to match revs properly chirps the rear tires and sends us through in a fashion that is more Tokyo drift than Dearborn muscle.

For a moment, I morbidly contemplate the idea of trashing this time-capsule on my very first lap—but the basic reflexes of the Cobra are sound and in a moment I have it straightened out and headed in the proper direction. I can rely on the power to adjust the back end, too, even through the wide tires. Looking over at Robert, who is along for the ride, I can't tell how concerned he is. His eyes are definitely wide open.

The next ten laps prove that the Cobra R is a true sweetheart, with the exception of the lousy pedal arrangement. The relatively neutral balance and complete lack of driver-interference computers make it both comfortable and thrilling to drive. And though it's nearly old enough to drink and vote, it still has enough straight-line guts to pass the Miatas and old BMWs that make up the majority of Midwestern track day traffic. The large-capacity cooling system fitted to these cars lets them run all day in the heat without breaking a sweat.

Jack Baruth

For the driver, however, it's a different situation. The ridiculous seats make every corner a yoga-like exercise in maintaining core position with only the steering wheel as a point of leverage. As a result, I'm unusually tired when I pull Robert's car in at the end of my 20-minute session. But I'm also thrilled in a way that words don't easily convey. This car has waited two decades to fulfill its racetrack promise, and it has done so. The SVT team knew what they were doing when they built it: Given a chassis and a motor that were considered out of date even at the time, they crafted a Mustang that comes alive on a closed course.

For a guy who has probably just lowered the value of his collector car by enough money to go out and buy a new Fiesta, Robert's in pretty good spirits. He loved driving his car on track and he'd like to do it again. The only question he has is this: Should he sell this Cobra while it still has less than 900 miles on the clock and buy a modern track car, or should he keep it, put some decent seats in it, and fulfill the car's original purpose as a road car for the racer? I know what I would do, but I'll keep my opinion to myself for now. What do you think?

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