1995 Ford Probe Gt Hatchback 2-door 2.5l on 2040-cars

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Next SVT Mustang may axe Shelby name, go naturally aspirated

Following our first glimpse at the 2015 Ford Mustang out on the road, the fine folks at Road and Track have divulged some details on what the Blue Oval's next pony might have in store. We've already seen that the car will get some very sleek, Evos-inspired design cues, and an independent rear suspension is indeed in store. These new details, however, concern the muscle car's beating heart.
For starters, the base Ford coupe is expected to carry on with V6 power, likely from the same 3.7-liter unit found in today's car. From there, R&T says the next step up will be a four-cylinder EcoBoost engine, likely displacing 2.3 liters, putting out as much as 350 horsepower. Of course, a Mustang wouldn't be a Mustang without V8 thrust, and R&T states that the 5.0-liter Coyote V8 will continue on into the 2015 car, making something like 450 horsepower.
But it's at the high end of the Mustang range where things will, reportedly, get very, very interesting. Road & Track claims that the top-shelf 'Stang will likely lose the supercharger from its engine, producing a metric crap-ton of naturally aspirated grunt instead. Additionally, the SVT-fettled Mustang will likely be dropping its Shelby moniker, in favor of "a name you're familiar with," according to the magazine (you know, like, Cobra).

Car Stories: Owning the SHO station wagon that could've been

A little over a year ago, I bought what could be the most interesting car I will ever own. It was a 1987 Mercury Sable LS station wagon. Don't worry – there's much more to this story. I've always had a soft spot for wagons, and I still remember just how revolutionary the Ford Taurus and Mercury Sable were back in the mid-1980s. As a teenager, I fell especially hard for the 220-horsepower 1989 Ford Taurus SHO – so much so that I'd go on to own a dozen over the next 20 years. And like many other quirky enthusiasts, I always wondered what a SHO station wagon would be like. That changed last year when I bought the aforementioned Sable LS wagon, festooned with the high-revving DOHC 3.0-liter V6 engine and five-speed manual transmission from a 1989 Taurus SHO. In addition, the wagon had SHO front seats, a SHO center console, and the 140-mph instrument cluster with mileage that matched the engine. When I bought it, that number was just under 60,000 – barely broken in for the overachieving Yamaha-sourced mill. The engine and transmission weren't the only upgrades. It wore dual-piston PBR brakes with the choice Eibach/Tokico suspension combo in front. The rear featured SHO disc brakes with MOOG cargo coils and Tokico shocks, resulting in a wagon that handled ridiculously well while still retaining a decent level of comfort and five-door functionality. I could attack the local switchbacks while rowing gears to a 7,000-rpm soundtrack just as easily as loading up on lumber at the hardware store. Over time I added a front tower brace to stiffen things a bit as well as a bigger, 73-mm mass airflow sensor for better breathing, and I sourced some inexpensive 2004 Taurus 16-inch five-spoke wheels, refinished in gunmetal to match the two-tone white/gunmetal finish on the car. That, along with some minor paint and body work, had me winning trophies at every car show in town. And yet, what I loved most about the car wasn't its looks or performance, but rather its history. And here's where things also get a little philosophical, because I absolutely, positively love old used cars. Don't get me wrong – new cars are great. Designers can sculpt a timeless automotive shape, and engineers can construct systems and subsystems to create an exquisite chassis with superb handling and plenty of horsepower. But it's the age and mileage that turn machines into something more than the sum of their parts.

Project Ugly Horse: Part VII

Devils, Details and Weight Reduction
There are many things I could call this exercise. A party is not one of them.
I've spent three days crammed in the axle well of this 1989 Mustang with nothing to keep me company beyond a trouble light, a DeWalt drill on the very last of its legs and billion razor sharp, red hot slivers of metal with an affinity for my most sensitive of regions. My joints are raw from crawling around on the concrete. I'm half deaf from the shriek of the spot weld cutter and the boom of the cold chisel and hammer.