Many moons ago when I was still in school (dinosaurs were all gone, but wooly mammoths were still stomping around) my step father had to leave his truck in a garage for a minor fender bender. Their loaner was a 71? Country Squire (which he bitched about when he found out what they were sticking him in... a bow-tie guy in a Ford wagon). I had gone with him and on the way back, he punched it to get around a farm truck hauling hay and the car set us both back into the vinyl. Needless to say, we were both surprised. Once we had gotten it back to the house, we popped the hood to find a 429 that looked more like it belonged in a Mustang rather than a grocery getter. He stopped bitching about it and had fun driving it to work, but it didn't change him from being a bow-tie guy... or bitching about being in a Ford.