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Go with your gut. You've always had an instinctual suspicion about Mustangs, and for good reason. In my opinion it's one of the cornerstones of having sound car-nut judgement. It comes down to what a car means to you, and the double-edged sword we labor under as car nuts, er, motoring enthusiasts, is that to us a car is more than merely a means of getting from point A to point B. If it were that simple, and you wanted a bargain, you'd be buying an Accord, sensible shoes. Don't cheat youself, these feelings you have are going to mean a lot to you for the duration of your time together with this car, whatever it is. Every little loose bit of particleboard in that Mustang will rattle the more annoyingly, every asthmatic pony you do feel will instantly be obscured by visions of all its brethren you declined to corral, and every measly cent of the price difference will claw at you with every nonessential non-car expenditure. "Hell," you'll think in line at the checkout, "few more boxes of generic cereal and I'd really have had a shot at a Camaro," hanging your head as you trek across the parking lot to the shady, obscured hiding place from which you crept out from behind that damned blue oval.
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