Betsy the Stripper

This here's the story of Betsy the Stripper...

Betsy was born in January, 1970. She was originally built with zero option content—that's why she's called a "stripper". Some say the term originated because cars without unneccesary extras saved weight and money in order to race on the dragstrip. Another view holds that the word simply means the car is "stripped" of options. Either way, this particular car started life as a simple base-model Mustang.

One snowy winter night just before she turned 23, I found her lying in the gutter in south Omaha. She was only 4 feet, 2 inches tall, but weighed nearly 2800 pounds. I took her home, and we started to get to know each other a little better.

Betsy had been beat up a few times on the road of life. At some point in her youth, Betsy was rolled, and I believe that's the reason for the vinyl top. Ford didn't offer vinyl as a factory option on their '70 Sportsroofs, but it was often used by fabricators to cover up bad bodywork. If you get under her skin, and know where to look, you can still find a lot of bent metal. I discovered that besides being rolled over, the car had at some time been bumped in her rear end—and smashed hard in the front.

The years passed, the car was repaired, and eventually a man bought it as a 'Sweet Sixteen' birthday present for his daughter. She's the one who named the car "Betsy", and I didn't want to confuse the car by changing its name.

This girl had a boyfriend who was one of those guys with a big ol' 4x4 truck for "goin' muddin'". When I bought the car, she showed me some photographs of them with his truck, all muddy in the mud and getting muddy. I tried to hide my horror at seeing the car—my new car—in the background of some of the photos. Apparently Betsy had been mud-wrestling, too... and lost.

That's right, Betsy the Stripper was in some dirty pictures.

This shocking abuse was further proved after I got her home; I filled two vacuum cleaner bags with dirt from the trunk but realized that the vacuum was a waste of time. I thought of getting a shovel, but ended up using a garden hose to begin the clean-up.

The clean-up has continued for fifteen years, and should only take twenty more. Every part on the car needed to be fixed or replaced. Usually both. Often twice.

Betsy suffers from rustophilia, a disease that renders her allergic to water. If she comes into contact with it, she'll break out in an orange-brown rash. Then I have to apply ointment, custom-mixed by PPG Automotive Finishes.

Betsy's had a long arduous road to recovery, but we've had some good times. Like the night we were cruising down a long and lonesome highway, outside Omaha... just flyin' along through the dark, moonless night when—suddenly, at a mile a minute, I was struck blind! Betsy had a new headlight switch, but apparently she wanted a new high-beam switch to go with it.

With her heavy clutch and manual drum brakes, I found that driving home during rush hour—especially in an ice storm—is a great way to build your leg muscles. Meanwhile, cranking on the manual steering box helps tone your upper body.

In the year 2000 I drove Betsy twice—once to the shop, and once back home after the shop had run me out of money before she was fixed. In 2001, I took her to another shop... they kept her for 32 days without doing anything! (And they kept one of my Shop Manuals.) I then took her to HP Motorsport for implant surgery and was able to drive her for nearly 2 weeks before being forced to put her to bed for the winter.

Betsy has her own special room in my house, and once we put on the wheels and the wings, my friend Ned started calling her a tease. I think he just wants to go out with her...

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