A s something to paint on the side of a car, you'd need to be fairly confident to pick out the word "Boss."
Certainly, the current Mustang GT is no shrinking violet, what with a snorting V8 providing some pretty outstanding performance. And then there's the Shelby editions of the 'Stang, with supercharged engines putting out Ferrari-ish horsepower levels.
So what makes this bright-yellow pony-car so brash as to announce itself as the Boss, the King, el Jefe Grande? It's not the top of the Mustang food chain, it's not the king of the muscle-car hill - and at under 50 grand for the base-model, it's not even that expensive, relatively speaking.
As with so many Mustangs, the answer can be found in the heritage of the breed. The original '69 and '70 Boss 302 cars were so-dubbed when designer Larry Shinoda referred to his project as "the Boss's car," either an evasive answer to keep the specialty 'Stang under wraps, or as an homage to Ford's new president Bunkie Knudsen (or both).
Anyway, back when guys with names like "Bunkie" were running the show, the boss's car wasn't just lots of power.
It was a no-nonsense, no-chrome, take-no-prisoners setup that mirrored the award-winning Trans-Am racecars of the day.
In particular, two Boss Mustangs won the 1970 Trans-Am championships, making sure that hockey-stick-stripe insignia became a legendary livery.
Here now is the modern version of that car, and with such boots to fill, we gotta ask: who's the Boss?
Design As mentioned, the current Mustang GT isn't shy - neither, for that matter, are the V6 models if you check off a few options boxes. Building on iconic long-nose, short-deck looks, the Boss adds its signature reflective hockey-stick stripe and fender badging, as well as a unique lower front splitter.
Available in wild colours like Grabber Blue or in the case of my tester, School Bus Yellow, the Boss looks mean just sitting there. Part of the menace is due to the track-tuned suspension, which has a deliberate rake added in, lowering the front 11mm, but the back just 1mm. The machine has a pouncing look, as though it's resting on its haunches, poised to leap.
With a blacked-out grille and polished-lip black-painted 19" alloys completing the look, it's little wonder that the Boss draws eyeballs like it was leading a Powerpoint presentation on the subject of paying attention. Of course, some of that's down to what happens when you fire the thing up.
Environment An innovative touch-screen interface, panoramic sunroof and cushy leather seats are nice features to have. However, they'd be as out of place here as a foie gras flavour from Gatorade - you'll be happy to note that you don't get any of that nonsense in the Boss.
What you do get? An alcantara-wrapped steering wheel that provides great grip, even if your palms are sweaty (and they will be). A brace of cloth-wrapped Recaro seats with snugly-fitting side-bolstering. A four-gauge instrument cluster that's blissfully free of clutter.
You also get all the usefulness of the regular Mustang, and that means a workable back seat that'll fit the kids, and a reasonably-sized trunk; it's not a family sedan, but it's quite practical as a sports-car.
The inside of the Boss is all-business, and in an age where manufacturers seem to be locked in a competition to see who can distract drivers the most, it's a breath of fresh air that clears the head. I suppose I should mention something about the stereo, but the truth is, I never turned it on once.
Performance Squeeze yourself into the cockpit, adjusting the seat forward. Two clicks on the ignition to power everything up - drop both of the windows. Press in the clutch and make sure she's in neutral.
Ignition The Boss has a unique quad exhaust set-up: there's the usual twin-pipes out back, but also a set of smaller exhausts that exit just in front of the rear wheels. To say that the sound they produce is impressive is like saying that Pavarotti bloke can carry a tune pretty OK.
It's the sort of brief bark and burble that takes you back in time, every time. If you have a single allele of gearhead in your DNA, this machine prods it roughly with a big oily finger. Instantly, I'm 10-years-old again.
Everything's heavy and mechanical, but not ponderously so. Slot the pool-ball shifter into first and the Boss growls its way up through the revs. Of everything I've driven this year, this machine is the most fun to drive slowly: it coughs and grumbles, and when you ease it down from third to second when pulling up at a stop-sign, it mutters a soft throaty burble that's like the growl of a big jungle cat.
The Boss 302 pulls off what many much-more expensive cars try to achieve and fail. It's an event, a gala performance - it's the sort of thing you might have imagined driving was going to be like when you were smashing Hot Wheels together in your parents' basement.
And then there's what happens when you actually put your foot into it a little. Good grief!
With shorter gearing taking advantage of the slightly beefed-up 444hp high-output V8, I hardly need mention that the Boss accelerates like a Saturn IV moon-rocket. With much the same soundtrack.
Stiffer springs, uprated bushings and a bigger rear stabilizer bar all make the Boss much nimbler-feeling than the standard Mustang. Track-day enthusiasts will also appreciate the adjustable-damping shock absorbers.
Now, at this point, somebody's bound to start complaining about how much better a proper independent rear suspension would be over the old-school live-axle that's part of the current Mustang's underpinnings. Should they do so, feel free to smack them upside the head with a non-stick frying pan; not only does the Boss shunt through the corners with aplomb, it does so in a manner that makes you feel like '70s-racer Parnelli Jones blasting past the competition to take the win. [email protected]
