I KNOW, I KNOW. The title isn't correct grammar, but it sure sounds good.

In general, I think men who drive sports cars are assholes, whether they be 18 or 88. And for those of us behind the wheels of one, we'd like to think that we're exceptions to this rule.

Take me, for example. After a long time in a field, in a garage and in the driveway, I recently got my car back on the road. It's a 1984 SVO Mustang – an early model that lacks the Quadrashock setup, for those who know. (More info: It has a intercooled, turbocharged, fuel-injected 2.3L four banger and four-wheel disc brakes on 16-inch, five-lug wheels that originally had 225-50-VR16 Goodyear Euro NTC tires. There is a functional hood scoop that feeds the intercooler, a front air dam with Marchal fog lamps (I never use them) and a double-wing spoiler that provides downforce when driven at highway speeds. It keeps the rear end from lifting.)

It's a great highway car, and its removable sunroof makes it a great summer car. Its lightweight rear end combined with rear wheel drive and wide tires make it a frightening sled in the snow.

I bought it in 1985, used, from a car dealer north of Pittsburgh. It had about 9,000 miles on it. I added another 136,000 in the next 15 years before I parked it, waiting for the time when I would have the money to have it serviced.

It's had three clutches, two sets of brakes, four sets of tires, three sets of wheels, numerous oil changes and now an almost-new suspension.

•

Fast forward to July 2003. After sitting in a garage or in a field for the better part of five years, the car was towed to a mechanic in West Windsor, New Jersey. The tow truck driver made some snide remark about the car, which had four flat tires and looked tired. Afterward, the car was towed to an auto body shop in Bordentown, about 15 miles away, for some serious body work.

•

Fast forward three months to October. I picked up the SVO – it's always known as "the SVO." The body looked good, but mechanically, it didn't seem right. I was driving it to Pittsburgh, where we now live. The struts that hold up the hatchback were rusted, so I decided to replace them before we got on the road. I braced up the heavy lid – I'm guessing it's about 55 pounds – and while I was working the brace slipped and the hatchback slammed down on my left hand, which was near the hinge. I don't know how, but it didn't break any fingers. By all rights, it should have broken all four fingers on my left hand. To this day, I still don't know how I was so lucky.

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Fast forward to November 2004. I had been driving the car, but the engine was leaking oil, and the handling just didn't seem right. So I parked the car in the driveway. My original plan to park the car for a few weeks turned out to be 14 months. By the time I decided to take it to a Ford Motor master mechanic in January 2006, all of the tires had gone flat ... again ... and the wheel valves were leaking. I had to replace the wheels, and the Tire Rack only had white Kosei's -- brilliant white. I had them painted black and then had them baked. It was a wise decision.

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Fast forward to March 2006, I got the SVO from the Mercury dealership, and immediately took it on a road trip to Canada. It felt and sounded like a 22-year-old car. It was loud, creaky and uncomfortable. Every bump on the road felt like I was running over a curb. Getting in and out of the car wasn't easy. It seemed quite clear to me that I was too old for the car.

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Fast forward again to May 9, 2006. After three solid months of driving the SVO, it's clear to me that this is still a great car. Maybe the body has loosened up, or maybe I just don't notice it, but it's once again my car. The one thing I've always loved about the car is that I can instinctively reach and find all of the controls.

The SVO seems to handle better when driven a bit more aggressively, and now I think that maybe I've become one of them – the assholes who drive sports cars. I drive slowly in our neighborhood – even if I'm late – because there are a lot of kids. I'm generally not in a hurry these days.

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Most guys who know about cars love the SVO. A number of them have asked to buy it. One guy got my wife to try to start it during its period of sitting. Unfortunately for him, some wasps had built a nest near the door, and one flew out and stung him.

I was at the auto parts store last week, and three guys were standing near a little red sports car. They all looked up when I drove in. They were car guys. I stopped and chatted with them about 10 minutes. The little red sports car could probably drive circles around the SVO, but it didn't have that ... that certain thing ... the thing that makes car guys turn their heads when the SVO goes past.

And it's all mine.
 

 
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