According to the calendars hung on the wall in the homes bordering the path around the Falls, the 50-year mark came on Thursday. Those who were around back then have no question in their mind that it was a Friday morning when the drapery came off. Fifty years is a long time, but for many with an affection for Detroit iron, the memories are as clear as the edges of those Ford Mustangs that could be seen and touched on that Friday morning.
There had been a great media campaign, and back then, the first day the cars could be seen in the showroom was something special. In many cases the cars were moved into the showroom a day or two in advance of introduction day but were draped with cloth so that customers could only guess what was underneath. Having subscribed to Car and Driver magazine a few months earlier, this observer, only a sophomore in high school, was caught up in the excitement.
A tight circle of high school friends also shared that interest. The closest Ford dealership was a short 9 miles away in another small town. The plotting for the big adventure began early in the week leading up to the big day. The dealership usually opened its doors at 7:30 a.m., a good hour and a half later than the lights usually get turned on today in the showroom at Peterson Ford in Oconto Falls.
Getting back to the adventure a half century ago, there was an older friend with a car who wouldn’t mind being a chauffeur for a carload of guys. Classes began each morning at 8:30. It was a calculated risk. It was pretty evident that guys could not gather, hop in the car, head over to the dealership, do a little ogling, and still make it back for the start of classes.
The plot thickened.
This was turning into a conspiracy to skip school, or at least knowingly be tardy, on that Friday. Most of us were white as the driven snow and had never done anything like that before, but how many times in a person’s lifetime were they going to introduce a car that was going to be such a big deal? Little did we know that it truly was a historic introduction of a model that would forever change what Americans wanted to drive down the road.
To add another twist, the owner of the dealership was the father of one of our classmates, so there was a slight risk that word would get to one of our teachers or the principal that the reason we were not on time for school that morning was not a legitimate excuse for missing school.
The goal was worth the risk.
The Friday morning started cloudy, but there was warm anticipation of what we were going to experience. About 7:15 a.m. the guys gathered and hopped in the car. The twisty sections of the 9 miles of blacktop were covered in near-record time.
There was a smell of fresh coffee and new tires in the showroom, not unlike a morning at Peterson Ford. The red mustang sparkled under the incandescent bulbs in the showroom.
We touched the fenders. Each took a turn sitting in that driver’s bucket seat and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands. The view was limited from the low seat and the showroom walls, but we may have imagined cresting a hill on the open road with the windows rolled down and the smell of fresh, spring air blowing through our hair.
A few brochures were picked up, and then the group piled back into the car and headed back to school. We got there by 9 a.m. and went about our business that day as if nothing unusual had happened so as not to arouse suspicion as to why we were late.
On a quick cruise Monday morning through the high school student parking lot, I saw two Mustangs of different vintages, one black, one white. Whomever the drivers might be, they most likely love their rides. Their cars are much more sophisticated than the one in that showroom a half century after introduction.
What they don’t have are cherished memories of sharing the first public viewing on a Friday morning. As a school superintendent, we should note as a disclaimer that students should never skip school for any reason.
Sometimes, it is easier to give advice than take it.
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