For most of its history, the Ford Mustang has never really been about handling. Cool? Absolutely. Fast? Yeah, for the most part — though the Malaise Era cars can only be considered as such by the standards of the day, and the V6 ‘Stangs of the early ’90s don’t even get that excuse. But when it came to turning, Mustangs generally were little better than any other car rolling out of Dearborn.
Sure, there were the occasional race-tuned models, like the Cobra R of 2000. But the Mustang, like most muscle cars, was ultimately about straight-line speed — and no version better represented that than the Shelby GT500. Each version was not only more potent than every Mustang before, but arguably wilder and crazier too.
That trend peaked with the GT500 that grew out of the fifth-generation Mustang, a 662-horsepower supercharged beast with a cue ball-topped stick shift and a solid live axle out back that made driving it feel like a carnival ride. It was the ultimate Mustang, a rolling Godzilla that could spin the tires at 60 miles an hour and crack 200 given enough room to run.

It was also one of the first new cars I truly fell in love with. It felt every bit what short-pants Will always expected a muscle car to be: big, bad, empowering. I burned rubber on side streets because it was so easy. I floored it in second gear on empty straightaways just to ride the lightning from 25 to 95. I revved the engine instead of honking in traffic to hear the horny T. rex roar coming out of the exhaust pipe. It was a silly car made spectacular by a supernatural engine.
So when Ford revealed that the sixth-generation Mustang’s version of the Shelby GT500 would not only ditch that engine for a new, smaller-displacement supercharged V8 but would also follow more in the steps of the track-focused GT350 than in the tire tracks of GT500s past — and worse, would be governed to a top speed of 180 mph — it’s safe to say I felt a bit angry. Betrayed, even. The GT500 I loved may have been rude, crude and lewd, but damn it, it was honest about where it came from.
