Vintage Car Life Review: 1965 Ford Mustang Six – The True Heart Of The Mustang’s Success

Contrary to popular belief, what originally made the Ford Mustang such a staggering success was not the rare 271-hp K-code engine, the hot Shelby GT-350, or the racier-looking fastback that Ford eventually decided should be the template for modern Mustangs, but rather the basic hardtop with the milder V-8 or base six-cylinder engines. In June 1965, Car Life sampled a six-cylinder Mustang with the new 200 cubic inch six, which performed better than you’d think, and revealed much about the reasons these cars were so popular.

 

For the auto enthusiast or modern collector, the default mental image of the early Mustang today is of a fastback with the hottest available V-8, four-speed, GT package, and front discs, often combined with aftermarket wheels and fatter-than-stock tires. People who’ve really internalized the “every V-8 a muscle car” mentality promoted by the collector car boom of the ’00s may draft earnest think-pieces about whether Ford compromised the Mustang’s Performance Image by not making a Paxton supercharger standard equipment. A six-cylinder Mustang? Sure, maybe a six was technically available as a price leader, but surely nobody actually bought it, did they?

In fact, they did, in substantial numbers. True, the majority of first-generation Mustangs had the 289 cu. in. (4,728 cc) Challenger V-8, but 484,788 first-generation Mustangs had six-cylinder engines: 26.9 percent of “1964½” cars (yes, I know Ford didn’t officially call them that), 35.6 percent of Mustangs built during the 1965 model year, and 41.7 percent of 1966 production (by which time Mustangs were selling so briskly that the 289 V-8 was in short supply). A sizable minority, in other words.

During this period, both Car Life and Road & Track were published by John R. Bond, so the “oldest living sports car magazine of general circulation” mentioned in the text was R&T, with which Car Life editorial shared office space. The uncredited writer of this article remarked:

Ordinarily this is not a bad thing, since an arrangement has been worked out: We don’t question their wisdom and in return they sometimes let us drive one of their odd little cars around the block.

This sometimes works the other way around, on occasion, and we let them drive one of our cars around a bit in return for sage advice. That’s just what happened with the “secretary’s sport car,” as the Mustang Six has come to be regarded. This basic version of the Mustang had not been evaluated since a pre-production model was tested as part of the introduction story (CL May ’64).

“Gee,” intoned one of the Learned Authorities on Things Automotive, “this car would have perfectly acceptable performance in Europe. Its 90-mph top speed is respectable enough. If it came from Europe, its engine would be viewed as a marvel of engineering ingenuity and to have an automatic transmission hooked to such a huge powerplant would be hailed as the utmost in luxury.” … The uncanny thing was that he was absolutely correct in his analysis. It easily outran Volkswagens and assorted cars of similar ilk, its handling and maneuvering were sprightly enough, it cradled one in American comfort and relatively embarrassing richness, and it could brag about tough and tenacious relatives while itself disdaining any appearances in the competitive pits and paddocks.

As if to underscore this particular point, Ford’s Germany subsidiary, Ford-Werke, had just recently introduced its first six-cylinder model, the Ford Taunus 20M, powered by the early 122 cu. in. (1,998 cc) version of the ubiquitous “Cologne” V-6, with a net output of 85 PS (DIN net) in standard form and 90 PS in high-compression Touring Sport (TS) tune. The six-cylinder car wasn’t yet available with automatic (although the C4 would become optional from May 1966), but you could have the V-6 in a new hardtop coupe, which was roughly the same size as a Mustang and looked like this:

 

A four-speed 20M with the regular-fuel engine was a little bit quicker than the Mustang six with automatic, mostly by virtue of being 344 lb lighter, and could manage 95 mph flat out, mostly by virtue of superior aerodynamics, but they were nonetheless in a very similar category when it came to size and performance. The difference was that the Taunus 20M (which was never officially exported to the U.S.) was considered a relatively expensive and rather thirsty middle-class car, whereas on this side of the Atlantic, the six-cylinder Mustang — which was considered large and somewhat exotic in Europe — was just another cheap American commuter. Car Life continued:

[O]ur re-acquaintance with the Six came at a time when we were surrounded by and submerged under a flood of hyper-horsed chargers which at times seemed intent on battering each other off the dragstrips in quest of under-15-sec. honors. In such a context, this Stewardess’ Six-Pack seemed tame indeed, to the point of being undernourished and suffering from tired blood. We also took time to notice, too. that this Mustang was a graduate of the Slenderella school of charm.

If the topical reference eludes you, Slenderella was at one time “the world’s largest figure-proportioning chain,” offering diet foods, girdles, and salons with a variety of scientifically dubious weight-reducing technologies like vibrating spa tables. After their salons were shut down by the IRS in 1959 over unpaid income taxes, the trademark was used for a while for a line of diet colas.

It was hard for us then to relate the Mustang Six to anything tangible in such a context of raucous exhausts and blistering tires. Were it not for the constraining counsel of our elders, we might have dismissed it rather harshly under the circumstances. But instead, we were told to take a second look and when we took a second look, we saw it with greater clarity.

We saw, once the morbid fascination with the Supercars was dispelled, an engine which was an interesting development if not a marvel of engineering achievement.

 

 

When the Mustang first appeared in April 1964, its standard engine had been the 170 cu. in. (2,780 cc) six originally introduced on the Comet about four years earlier, which was a long-stroke version of the 144 cu. in. (2,365 cc) six in the 1960 Falcon. Later in the 1964 calendar year, the Mustang traded the 170 for the new 200 cu. in. (3,276 cc) six, which not only had a bigger bore and longer stroke, but also a new crankshaft with seven main bearings instead of four. The 200 six was 36 lb heavier than the original 144, but it had bigger valves, higher compression, and revised valve timing, giving 120 gross horsepower, compared to 101 hp for the 170.

The Car Life editors’ lament about the lack of bolt-on hop-up equipment for such modern sixes wasn’t really accurate: There was a fair amount of performance equipment available for Falcon sixes, although if you were buying a new Mustang, paying an extra $105 for the V-8 was certainly simpler. In any case, even in completely stock form, the six provided reasonable performance for a car of this size, weight, and era, while returning respectable fuel economy: 19 to 22 mpg in normal driving, according to the spec panel, on regular gasoline.

 

Which bring us to a vital point: For all the buff book sneering about “Secretarial Six-Packs,” Ford did not sell 559,451 Mustangs in 1965 because they were hardcore enthusiasts’ cars with racy performance. A lot of early Mustangs — most, in fact — were just stylish but inexpensive go-to-work cars for people who wanted something that was cheap to run and easy to park, but didn’t look like, well, this:

 

While enthusiasts have often complained (both at the time and in later years) that the Mustang was really just a made-over Falcon, the Mustang’s compact car roots were central to its appeal. If you needed a relatively economical commuter car and the absolute upper limit of your budget was around $2,800, the Mustang was a very competitive choice, and infinitely more desirable than a Falcon. The Falcon did cost less — you could save about $101 by buying a Falcon Futura hardtop with the 200 six (which was optional on the Falcon) instead of a six-cylinder Mustang — but which one would you rather have, then or now?

 

Beyond that, the Mustang and the big six were a surprisingly agreeable combination. Car Life explained:

When the next larger engine, the 289-cu. in./200-bhp is ordered, there’s an immediate jump in front-end weight by some 100 lb. Then, power steering is certainly desirable, so that adds another 50 lb. When the V-8 is installed, the car is automatically equipped with heavier front suspension components, larger tires, wheels, brakes, rear axle and lesser related components so there is a net gain of 300 lb. involved, then, in adding 80 bhp (some of which is siphoned off by the power steering pump anyway) because of the substitution of largely Fairlane-based running gear for previously used Falcon-based components.

(I’m not sure why they asserted that power steering “adds another 50 lb” — according to the AMA specifications, power steering added 28 lb.)

Not only was the six-cylinder car lighter, it also had better weight distribution, which made for somewhat better handling and braking performance. Car Life observed:

[Mustangs] have reasonable understeer kept within reasonable limits. They take on neutral characteristics when handled, with skill, at speed. Body roll—again, with basic springing—is not a strong point but the car nevertheless manages to corner with a non-commonplace precision. If there is one weak spot, it is rear axle tramp; more often than not some conscious effort will be necessary to compensate for the skipping around which the rear wheels develop upon abrupt unloading. Relatively speaking, however, the Six goes about its task in finer fashion because it’s 1), closer to basic design in weight distribution; and 2), not so potent that it overpowers its rear-wheel cornering ability by brute torque. At speed, it’s so easy to tip the Six up into a drift while bombing along a meandering road that one soon begins to feel expert. … While somewhat soft, in the modern manner, this springing is well controlled by shock absorbers and anyone wishing to reduce the sponginess can simply install heavier-duty shocks.

They found the brakes above average, providing stopping performance almost as good as a V-8 Mustang with front discs, although rear lockup still made the brakes rather touchy. The test car didn’t have power brakes, and really didn’t need it. (Only 4.3 percent of 1965 Mustangs were ordered with power brakes, and just 6.7 percent with discs, which weren’t offered with the six.)

 

CL‘s test car had the three-speed Cruise-O-Matic (C4) transmission, which was the most expensive option on the car, at $179.80 list. Car Life wasn’t terribly happy with its behavior in normal use, but it did well when pressed, and the torque converter made the most of the six-cylinder engine’s available torque. They were skeptical that the gear spacing of the manual three-speed would have suited the six, and unlike the V-8, the three-speed transmission used on six-cylinder Mustangs (and Falcons) still had an unsynchronized low gear. If you were determined to shift for yourself, you could order an English Ford four-speed manual with the six for $115.90, but Car Life thought its ratios “far too widely spaced to be of much more than novelty value.” Whether they ever actually tested a six-cylinder/four-speed car is unclear; the spacing of the four-speed gearing definitely wasn’t ideal, with a big gap between second and third, but I think it probably gave the big six more spring in its step than their comments suggest.

Their test car also had power steering, an $86.30 option. Surprisingly few 1965 Mustang buyers ordered power steering — overall installation rate was just 24.9 percent — and it wasn’t really necessary for steering ease, especially with the six. Power assist gave the steering what Car Life called “an uneasy lightness,” but it was faster, giving 3.73 turns lock-to-lock, which CL considered “about the minimum quality of quickness which can be tolerated on a vehicle of this type.”

 

You sat low in the early Mustang. Car Life remarked:

Tall gals, by the way, find the Mustang doesn’t interfere with bouffant hair-dos. The bucket seats are quite close to the floorboards and one sits down in the car, rather than perching upon it. But the petite gals might just complain a bit about this very thing. It’s possible that a woman of more diminutive stature would be staring more at looming hood than open road. There are adjustments which can be made to the seat, but seating position should be checked against personal preferences.

The low seating position was as much a part of the atmosphere as bucket seats, however, and provided an immediate reminder that you weren’t driving a Falcon Futura:

 

Like the CL test car, the red Mustang in the color photos has the standard interior trim (although the center console with padded armrest and cup holders is an aftermarket addition), which was pretty plush for a $2,400 domestic car. The workmanship was typical ’60s Ford, but if you liked the exterior styling, you wouldn’t feel let down when you opened the door.

 

The Mustang hardtop did sacrifice a bit of back seat room compared to a Falcon sedan, but not as much as the fastback did, and it was still reasonably habitable for short or short-haul occupants.

 

Trunk space wasn’t much less than the Falcon sedan’s either:

 

The text’s comments about “new dress-up options for the Mustang” presumably referred to the Interior Decor Group, a $94.30 trim package now widely known as the “Pony Interior” because of the embossed horses it added to the seat backs. I don’t know that I buy the sexist assumption that these “should have their main appeal to Gal Friday”: Women driving or riding in Mustangs would be more likely to be wearing thin tops or backless dresses that might make the embossed designs — and, more importantly, the bright metal trim bars — somewhat uncomfortable. It was all very de Luxe, however.

 

Car Life alluded on the first page of this article to “carburetor bothers which never really were sorted out during the time of the test,” but its performance seems perfectly adequate, and about what you’d expect with this powertrain combination: 0 to 60 mph in 15.1 seconds, the standing quarter in 19.5 seconds at 67 mph, and an actual top speed of 90 mph. CL noted that it was slower than the 170/automatic convertible they’d tested in their initial Mustang evaluation a year earlier, but that car’s performance (0 to 60 mph in 12.5 seconds and a quarter mile trap speed of 74 mph) was improbably quick for a 170/automatic Mustang convertible some 220 lb heavier than this hardtop. Car Life‘s previous road tests of the 170 Falcon hadn’t managed any 0 to 60 time better than 17.5 seconds, and that was with stick shift. Their March 1962 170/automatic sedan needed 17.7 seconds to hit 60 mph and 20.6 seconds through the quarter mile, so it’s hard to see how a heavier Mustang convertible with that powertrain could have been substantially quicker without a lot of non-stock assistance in the engine bay — a press preview ringer, in other words.

 

(Don’t blame the “smog device” listed in the options rundown: In 1965, that still just meant the closed positive crankcase ventilation system required in California and New York, for which Ford charged an extra $5.30. Also, the axle ratio in the data panel above is incorrect: As the main text indicated, the six/automatic combination was offered only with a 2.83 axle.)

Was the Mustang six a fast car? Certainly not, although as the Car Life and Road & Track editors noted, it would have been considered quite brisk by European standards, and it was peppy enough for normal domestic driving. However, it was an attractive, reasonably well-trimmed, reasonably practical, conventionally engineered compact car that you could use every day without breaking the bank or hurting your image.

 

That, more than anything else, was the real magic of the original Mustang: not that it was outstandingly sporty, but that it was an economical small(er) car that you didn’t have to be embarrassed to be seen in — and, unlike the Falcon, didn’t make you feel like you had the words “CHEAPSKATE DORK” tattooed on your forehead, even if all you could afford was the economy six. Judging by the sales figures, it was a winning formula, and one that the Mustang’s competitors (and even its successors) often found surprisingly difficult to grasp.

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