Car of the Month
Steve Gilbert's 1966 Fastback

Steve Gilbert’s 1966 Mustang “A” Code GT Built at San Jose plant, Originally sold by S & C Ford, San Francisco

I am not one to generally believe in fate. Rather, I would like to think that events occur as a matter of connections. People decide on one of many possible choices, all which lead to different outcomes. These decisions, in turn, lead to even more choices and more possible outcomes. It is only the ones acted upon that are joined to create the unique story of personal history. I suppose this best explains how I took possession of my 1966 Mustang GT Fastback.

It was early in the year of 1917, approximately ninety-four years ago that this story truly begins. At this time, young man of eighteen named Louis Santa Maria left the village of Chirles, Spain located in the rural southern province of Valencia. In his desire to start a new life, Louis, my grandfather, began his adventure leaving his village on the back of a mule headed to a board a steamship bound for Ellis Island, the gateway to America. Arriving on the east coast of the United States in March of 1917, Louis embarked on a series of adventures. His travels took him to Pescadero’s Año Nuevo Ranch to harvest artichokes, San Francisco’s piers as a longshoreman and professional boxer during the 1930’s, and finally to St. Helena in the Napa Valley to “retire”.

There he continued his love of farming, raising sheep and spent his days producing Louis’ Red and chatting with the valley’s locals such as Rosa Mondavi, the mother of famous vintner, Robert Mondavi. In 1969, my family began taking monthly trips to visit my grandparents on their ranch. During these visits, my grandfather had two ground rules for my brother and me: First, we were to stay out of the cellar where the wine press was kept, and second, not to go near the abandoned chicken houses where a young heavy diesel mechanic kept a small business. It was the later of these that would be directly related obtaining my Mustang.

One afternoon during 1974, my father and an older cousin were sitting on the back porch of the ranch. Soon, a car drove up the gravel road that connected the property to Highway 29 and ran along its southern boundary. As the car approached, it became apparent the driver was the mechanic to whom my grandfather rented the chicken houses. As the man pulled forward and stopped for a chat, my father commented on how the nice the car looked and asked what make it was. “ 1966 Mustang” was the reply. During the conversation, the mechanic explained he was going though a divorce and needed funds to get to Southern California to defend his case against his estranged wife. To cover his expenses he was actually interested in selling the car. My father, in need of a new work car, asked the mechanic what he would consider taking for it. To this, the man asked, “How’s $325?” Dad told the man that he would consider buying the car at that price, but didn’t have the money on hand. My cousin suggested a trip to the bank in downtown St. Helena to withdraw the money from his account. With this the deal was struck. The only caveat to the sale was that the pink slip was not readily available, as it was located in a San Francisco apartment. The mechanic did promise, however, that it would be mailed to my father in San Jose within a two-week’s time. This would be at least suspicious and at most unacceptable by today’s standards, however a clear title arrived within the two weeks, as agreed.

From 1974-1976, the Mustang provided my father transportation to and from his teaching job in Campbell, summer work at Richmond Chase Cannery in San Jose and as a spare family car. Many times the car was left unattended, doors unlocked and keys in the ignition. Although the car held no particular significance at the time, certain events now lead to believe how lucky we were the car was never stolen. On one occasion, we woke to find the GT gas cap removed. On another, we were awoken by a phone call. It was the next-door neighbor. He said my father better get outside. Someone had attempted to roll the Mustang down our driveway, ripping the garage door from the frame. The thief was unsuccessful because my father regularly chained the car to the garage; there had been a rash of car thefts that year.

In 1977, the car was sent to the Central County Occupational Center (CCOC) auto body division as a donor lab car for six months. Upon its return, the car was stored until 1983. That year, the Mustang became my brother’s high school transportation, then mine. With newer, more reliable cars within my reach, the Mustang was soon relegated to the family garage  to serve as an occasional conversation piece and full-time storage facility for my mother’s outdated home furnishings. There it sat for twenty-two years.

   I am not sure what exactly sparked my first interest in restoring our Mustang, as I was not yet aware of its current desirability in 2009. I suppose it was a culmination of conversations with others, Ford’s return to “classic” fastback design for their new Mustangs, and simply not seeing classic Mustangs, much less fastbacks around anymore. One day in 2009, I decided to try starting the Mustang. My dad was mildly interested in watching it turn over after so many years, but said the car was not a “K” model, and therefore, not worth much. However, it was a fastback and a V-8 at that. I eventually got the car started and believed a little research was in order. I soon discovered the car was an “A” code. Further, all the common clues on the car indicated it was a fairly rare factory GT built at the San Jose plant and sold throughS & C Ford of San Francisco. While I found that many people are making clones, this car was in possession of my family since 1974 and I highly doubt the technology existed to produce a foolproof clone at the time. So began my restoration process.

Over the past three years, I have worked with former Lockheed engineer, Danny Wiles on general mechanics, Kenny body & Paint, Custom Alignment for suspension and steering, Byron Robeck of Finish Line for interior restoration, and Jeff Twitchell of the Hot Rod Service Company for engine rebuilding/ detailing. I greatly appreciate the efforts of all the aforementioned to making my Mustang what it is today. As a tribute to my father and memories riding in the car as a young child, the process has been a true adventure as well as a trip down Memory Lane. Mostly, I am reminded that connected events that were laid into place over ninety-four ears ago, along a dirt road in Chirles, Spain actually led me to share this story. I suppose even fate may have played a small role, as well.

Steve Gilbert