The G.T. 500 (1967-’70) is somehow always a little bit more than what everyone thought it was. The first examples were pony cars that wanted to be GT cars; once the Mustang had assumed the mantle of a GT car, the 2007-present GT500 sought out (and, arguably, found) supercar status. The original Shelby Mustangs were meant to be track terrors; with the G.T. 500, Shelby became the place where the well-heeled experienced the class-leading blend of Mustang style and performance. Most of this evolution was at Ford’s behest; while plenty grumble that the hard-core purity of the original was lost, it’s tough to argue with the sales numbers.
A confluence of situations gave us the G.T. 500. First, after two and a half years of practically having the market to themselves (sorry, Barracuda), Ford’s 1967 redesign for its perpetually popular pony car aimed to bring things up to date. That is to say, its careful exterior freshening belied considerable chassis work, as Ford wanted to shoehorn its big 390-cubic-inch V-8 between the shock towers; they knew that Chevy’s cross-town competitor (Camaro) was coming, and they wanted to be ready.
Next, Ford and Shelby sought to cash in on their successful summer vacation in the French countryside — that is, their podium sweep at the 24 Hours of Le Mans with a trio of Ford GT40s, a result that turned Enzo Ferrari’s face the same shade of rosso as his cars. Yes, the legendary GT40 trio ran deep-breathing-yet-understressed race-only 427s on track. But Ford’s 428-cubic-inch V-8, really a bored and stroked version of the extant 390, which shared little with the race engines, would slip right in — and was already at work in Thunderbirds and cop cars and such. And hey, a 428 is like a 427... but one better. Right?
Don’t roll
