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Ford trademarking 'Mach 1,' possibly for Mustang

A legendary name might be accompanying the redesigned, 2015 Mustang when it finally makes its world debut - Mach 1. Stumbled upon by the team at Ford Authority, the Mach 1 title was found in a trademark filing with the US Patent and Trademark Office, and would revive a name last used on the fourth-generation, 2003 Mustang.
While the the 2003 vintage was well and good, the Mach 1 is really remembered for a three-year run from 1969 to 1971 - it's best to just forget the emissions-choked 1972 to 1978 Mach 1s - when power output ranged from a modest 250 horsepower with the two-barrel, 351-cubic-inch Windsor V8 to "375 hp" (actual output was rumored to be well north of 400 horsepower) with the righteous, 429-cubic-inch Super Cobra Jet V8.
What does the title hold for the sixth-generation Mustang? It's tough to say. The fanatics at Ford Authority seem to think Mach 1 could take the place of the Shelby GT500 at the top of the Mustang hierarchy, which sounds like a valid argument. At the same time, we could see the SVT Cobra moniker returning for the flagship model, and the Mach 1 doing battle with the Chevrolet Camaro Z/28 (unless the Boss 302 were to return). Confounding things is the historical precedent - the Mach 1 was responsible for the death of the Mustang GT in 1969, so it might make sense as a volume performance model.

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 V

The Slippery Slope
I've had a healthy appreciation for cars that stop since one truly unfortunate incident with a runaway 1971 Lincoln Continental.
It's funny how quickly a party can turn from, "We're all having blast" to "What happened to the front of the house, and how many stitches do you think this is going to take?" Standing in a Mustang salvage shop in Kodak, Tennessee, I couldn't help but feel I had strayed into the latter territory with Ugly Horse. There was a supercharged 5.4-liter V8 plucked from a rear-ended Cobra sitting off to my left. The shelves were lined with second-hand Roush and SVT components galore, but I couldn't stop staring at a set of rotors with the approximate diameter of my chest.