Review: 2018 Ford Mustang GT

The 2018 Ford Mustang GT received its mid-cycle refresh, and judging by its face, it’s not too happy about it. Its once handsome visage now wears a droopy pout. The 2018 GT is supposed to be renewed and ready to stand toe-to-toe with the rival Camaro SS, so is the car just sad about its new, puffy, Euro-compliant hood? To see if the Mustang GT should be smiling about its performance chops rather than frowning about its styling miscues, I shook down the GT over 250 miles of mountain and city roads.

As an amateur journalist who rents his rides, I start my day standing apprehensively at the rental car counter, hoping that my “guaranteed” reservation for a Mustang GT does not produce a V6 convertible, or worse. My last attempt at a Mustang GT rental ended with me leaving in a Dodge Challenger R/T.

So when I find, hidden among the rows and rows of quotidian rental cars, my rental Mustang GT, a giddy grin spreads across my face. The coupe is minty fresh, and hardly could be specced better. The GT badge means a 460 hp Coyote V8 is lodged under the hood, and a quick walkaround reveals that other go-fast options have been equipped as well. Sexy-looking Recaro seats, big Brembo brakes, sinister 20-spoke wheels shod in Michelin’s latest-and-greatest Pilot Sport 4S summer tires all indicate that today will be a joy. I appreciate the convenience options as well: Keyless entry and push-button start will help get going, Sync 3 and Android Auto will point me in the right direction.

What I am less excited about is the quality of the Mustang’s interior. The design nicely blends classic muscle car cues with contemporary tech, but the materials chosen are incredibly chintzy. A nasty, faux carbon fiber panel stretches the width of the dash. The switches and controls are made of the cheapest plastics. Ford dresses up the drive-mode toggle switches but does so with plastic chrome that is fit for a dollar-store toy. At least the leather on the seat and steering wheel are pleasant; Ford spent a little more money on the driver’s touchpoints. The steering wheel grip reminds me of the Focus RS’s. The same good leather is used, and both wheels have a thin rim that has been padded to give a little M-car squish to the grip.

Does Ford Performance subscribe to the Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution school of vehicle design: Spend on performance and dynamics, but pinch pennies on everything else? Let’s find out.

I hunt for the engine start button and find it under the volume knob. (The volume knob is circular as well, and I almost push that instead.) The V8 ignites with a loud rumble. This engine is an extrovert; it wants everyone to turn and look when it rolls by. While I’m an introvert myself, I’m excited that I’ll get to hear the V8 “song of my people” all day long.

Finally in motion, the initial impressions are promising. The Mustang GT rides with firm composure and avoids the pogostick personality of the Focus RS on rough city streets. It’s been a month since my last (base suspension) Camaro SS drive, but I think the Mustang GT smooths Highway 405’s slab chop better than the Chevy.

Mustang GT’s firm composure is matched with quick and precise steering that, like the suspension, could be plucked from a Bavarian sports sedan. Ford has aced the steering ratio, balancing the quick turn-in you want for sporty driving with a relaxed on-center demeanor that keeps me from bouncing between the highway lane lines like a toddler’s bowling ball at a bumper-bowl birthday party.

The brakes are exemplary too. Ford has some of the best brake-pedal weight on the market; it’s tight and firm and avoids being touchy. There’s no suggestion that these Brembos will wither under heat.

Recaro is another top-tier supplier which Ford has selected, but sadly the bucket seats in the Mustang GT do not agree with me at all. They completely lack lumbar support and even seem scooped such that they force my back into a stooped ‘C’ shape. My cranky spine is not happy. They look so pretty; what a shame they are not functional too.

Also shameworthy is the programming on Ford’s new 10-speed automatic gearbox. It is expected that the gearbox programming shifts into the most economical gear ASAP, but the way the transmission computer overthinks the gear selection on acceleration is unacceptable. Every adjustment to the throttle provokes another gear. The computer may jump between three or four gears even during a simple maneuver like rolling onto the accelerator and changing lanes. Deceleration becomes an issue in the Mustang’s Sports drive mode, as the transmission downshifts a gear to two when you brush on the brakes. Ostensibly, this is to add engine braking to help with hill descents, but the transmission so eagerly employs these downshifts that it’s ceaseless shifting down and up the gears as you gently move between throttle and brakes.

I have been racing the storm clouds across Los Angeles to the San Gregorio Mountains, and the rain has beaten me to Angeles Crest Highway. I tread carefully as I ascend out of the valley and up into the clouds. The PS4S tires give me confidence, delivering good traction in the cold and wet, as I mind the wet pavement, road sand (a CalTrans defense against ice), and the psycho-cyclists who are training as if their Tour de France victories depend on it.

Thankfully, Upper Big Tujunga is dry, and I whip the Mustang GT for all it is worth over its open sweepers. Finally, the 10-speed automatic becomes a good partner for speed. With the gear selector in S and Track mode active, the steering wheel paddles deliver prompt upshifts. When I pull the right paddle at 5k RPM, a smooth and swift gear change is made. When I remember to wait for the Coyote’s 7.5k RPM redline, the upshift is delivered with a punch in the back for added drama. (GM’s 8-speed automatic from the Camaro SS is nowhere near as consistent at delivering clean upshifts.) The downshifts are good too, clean performed with a rev-matched blip. So long as I am in command of the shift timing, I have little to complain about Ford’s new gearbox.

There is much more similarity to how the Mustang GT and Focus RS negotiate Big Tujunga than I anticipated. Both cars tip into corners quickly and reveal a smidgen of body roll which quickly settles. There is never any understeer, and when laterally loaded, the RS and GT have similar resistance and feedback in their steering. Get on the power, and both cars use their trick rear differentials to increase the car’s rotation and push you through the apex. The effect is more blatant in the RS, but it is still quite noticeable in the GT and makes for very enjoyable corner exits.

Unlike the Focus RS—or Camaro SS—the Mustang GT is not unflappable while cornering. Mid corner bumps can make the chassis nervous, and falling undulations and elicit hints of float. Simply put, I can’t drive the Mustang GT with a sense of invulnerability to whatever the twisting road will throw at me. I am reminded of the first Mustang GT I drove, a 2013 with the old solid rear axle. That car bucked like a wild bronco over bad roads. A teaspoon of the Mustang legacy is still in the 2018 GT.

(The wing, wheels, tires and brakes indicate that my Mustang GT is optioned with the $4,000 Performance Package. The one firmness ride means the car is missing the magnetic ride shocks and more extreme Level 2 Performance Package.)

While the Brembo brakes felt indefatigable in town, I have a moment of doubt as I approach one of Upper Big Tujunga’s decreasing radius corners, and the Mustang isn’t scrubbing speed as quickly as I want. It’s curious, though: The brakes don’t show any cues of pad fade or boiling fluid. I do a test on the next clear straight away and stand hard on the middle pedal. The anchor is thrown, and I feel a tunnel-vision sensation as the world quickly comes to a halt. These Brembos aren’t all bark and no bite; I just need to summon some strength and use the brake pedal forcefully. The brakes will hold up flawlessly, without stink, smoke, or flame—it’s happened in lesser cars!—throughout my mountain flog.

Hidden in the fog, in an exceptionally large pull-out on Angeles Crest, I do some donuts on the wet pavement. The GT breaks traction and pirouettes around its nose, but maintaining a slide is harder here than my last drift day in the Camaro SS. It’s not a fair comparison because the Camaro was on dirt, but I believe GM’s Alpha chassis and LT1 motor are better suited to sideways sport.

At lower RPMs, the Mustang’s 5.0L engine lacks the gut-punch snappiness of the Camaro SS’s 7.0L. I have to try harder with Ford’s V8 to break the rear tires’ grip. But the Coyote rewards in its own way. The Ford’s power crescendos to redline like a high-revving, naturally-aspirated engine should, even if the power swell is milder than what you’d find in a 911 GT3 or E90 M3.

The main detriment to revving the Coyote to redline is a rattling noise that appears above 6k RPM. Is it the engine or some loose fastener sympathetically reverberating? Either way, it causes me to think of the Subaru BRZ and how at a particular rev band, its note got harsh and unpleasant.

Snow builds along the road as I tiptoe over Angeles Crest’s summit. Thankfully, CalTrans has been diligent today, and I don’t find large rocks in my lane. There’s a different reason to panic-brake when I come across a deer licking salt off the double yellow.

My other reason for stopping is my back. These Recaros are inflicting so much pain that I stop several times to stretch.

The illuminated fuel light also encourages ginger driving. The tank was full when I left LAX. 135 miles later, the tank is empty. I fill up in Wrightwood and calculate a dismal 10.7 MPG. What is the point of the 10-speed gearbox!?! (My tank at the end of the day is a not-much-better 12.9 MPG.)

Big Pines Highway is wet but still a joy in the Mustang GT, which pivots willingly into the hairpins and swoops down through the sweepers. The highway’s undulations re-highlight how this suspension is not as buttoned-down as it should be: Whoops of the right cadence tickle a little float out of the GT.

When the road straightens, I look through the GT’s many drive modes and track apps. It’s fun that Ford put so much effort into these features! Over the mountain, I was enjoying Track mode paired to the gear selector in S. Now that I have some desert straights, I try Drag Strip mode.

My first acceleration run is a mess because the engine bogs at each upshift. It occurs to me that traction control may be interfering, so I disable it and try again. The transmission slams from gear to gear with such force that the tires break traction, and I get a surge of acceleration with each upshift. It is a hell of a trip, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced from an automatic transmission. (I am reminded of how my drag-racing brother-in-law abused my Evo’s transmission.) Playing with Drag Strip mode and the acceleration timer, I manage to notch a 4.8 seconds 0-60 mph. It’s a good showing, but the car definitely can do better.

The return to Los Angeles is over the rainy Angeles Forest Highway. I don’t learn anything new about the Mustang, but I am impressed by the crazy kid in an early 2000’s Honda Accord that is keeping up with me on the wet ribbon. He is showing remarkable gutsiness and impressive disregard for the double yellow.

On the concrete slab highways that connect LA’s urban sprawl, the GT rides fine until I hit the worst section of rhythmic expansion joints on Hwy 405. It’s too much for the Mustang, which hops and skips over the pavement with a violence I’ve never seen before. This Performance Pack 1 suspension is neither firm enough for canyons nor soft enough for highway cruising. Ford’s optional magnetic ride suspension may be the solution.

I get home in time to take my daughter and wife out for dinner. In the dim light of our garage, my daughter is captivated by the galloping-pony puddle light that the Mustang projects onto the ground. I find the light show to be both incredibly corny and incredibly cool. (A Chevy Bowtie would not be nearly as evocative or fun.)

It takes a little effort to secure my daughter’s Cosco Scenera Next child seat in the back of the Mustang, but I manage. With the front seat slid 80% forward and the seatback folded forward, my 2-year-old can climb into the rear of the Mustang and up into her car seat. All I have to do is lean in, fasten the buckle and tighten the straps.

Everyone belted, I start up the GT. “Vroom,” says my daughter, mimicking the loud exhaust. If you only knew, darling, if only you knew.

Even with an inch or two of airspace left between my daughter’s shoes and the seat back (toddler…must…kick…seat!), my wife can ride shotgun in reasonable comfort. In fact, the legroom up front may not be that different from what she has in our M3 sedan.

To and from dinner, I use a light foot on the throttle to keep the vroom noise to a minimum. Nevertheless, my wife asks me—incredulously—if I like the sound of the Mustang. I do! (Though I consider Chrysler’s Hemi to be a better crooner.) Clearly, normal people think the Mustang GT loud. It’s not fitted on my ride, but Ford has a new active exhaust with a quiet “good neighbor” mode. That might make this car more family-friendly.

As I drive back to LAX, I mull over whether or not the Mustang GT deserves its pouty face. The Mustang GT is an incredible performance car for $45k, delivering great tech, agility, brakes, power and sound. But looking in the mirror, I see that I am wearing a pouty face too. My back is still in pain from the 250 miles in the Recaro seats. And I also long for the Camaro SS’s flawless suspension, hoon-baiting torque, and higher-quality cabin. Some of these deficiencies are addressable with different build options for the Mustang; others are not.

A personal concern, but one that looms large for me, is that the driving experience of the Mustang GT feels so similar to what I hate about my Focus RS. The steering, and to a lesser extent the chassis, feels rubbery and isolate me from the action on the road. This is a characteristic common to most contemporary cars and one that makes me wax poetic about hydraulically-assisted steering racks from older cars. Your author—and pouty dinosaur—is stuck in the past, and he’d prefer a sports car from yesteryear.