In the early summer of 1965, the boss at the radio station I was working at bought a brand new, just-introduced Mustang convertible with a 6 cylinder (!) engine and automatic transmission -- a real Hot Looker.
I had just bought off the back of the lot an orphan (someone had ordered it in, but changed his mind) '64 Falcon four door sedan, no chrome, in a baby-poo beige colour but with a small 260 V8, and (get this!) a stick shift. It was undriven but about 18 months old, so I got it for $2,064. (The only new car I've every bought). It pissed off the manager no end that "that ugly piece of crap" would leave him standing at any stoplight, and often did.