2012 Ford Mustang Boss 302 – Road Test « New and Used Car Listings

2012 Ford Mustang Boss 302 – Road Test

Jim Farley, Ford’s group VP of global marketing, didn’t have to fly to California for the debut of the Mustang Boss 302. No one told him to. He came anyway. “I’ve been driving my own Mustang right through the past two Michigan winters thinking about this project,” he says. “From a business standpoint, the Boss 302 shouldn’t have happened. But it happened. My dream for the car was that it would make a lot of money for a guy street racing. It should be a car that winds up on YouTube doing something illegal. I’ve been waiting 20-plus years to launch a car like this.”

The decision to resurrect the Boss 302 was made in the darkest days of the recession. Is Ford brave or what? Especially since it’s so rare that offspring are able to match the feats of  legendary forebears, as Charlie Sheen can attest.

To eke out of the Mustang GT’s engine a bonus 32 horses, Ford created a new intake manifold with runners resembling velocity stacks. Different cylinder heads were deployed—stronger alloy and altered ports—with each head undergoing 2.5 hours of CNC massaging. The camshafts offer increased lift, the intake valves are larger, the bearings are race-spec, and the baffled pan holds 8.5 quarts of synthetic oil.

The result is 444 horsepower at 7500 rpm, a happy medium between the Mustang GT’s 412 horses and the Shelby GT500’s 550. The Boss’s V-8—unlike the brutish Shelby’s—doesn’t so often overwhelm its chassis. In fact, what you first notice—and this is very BMW-ish—is that the Boss’s engine, driveline, and suspension draw virtually no attention to each others’ eccentricities. It lends the package a gratifying sense of unity that inspires confidence.

This V-8 is so vigorous and charismatic that its likeness ought to be carved on Mount Rushmore. The engine revs nearly as quickly as you can flex your right foot, feeling as if it displaces maybe three liters. What’s more, despite all that cam, it idles as smoothly as a Camry.

Sans traction control, launching the Boss takes some practice, although never has practice been so fun. Sidestep the clutch with too many revs, and you’ll trigger axle tramp followed by a cumulous cloud of Pirelli particulates that will only swell in size all the way through second gear. The trick is to slip the clutch from about 3500 rpm, then mat the throttle when the axle says, “Yeah, I’m feelin’ settled and relaxed back here.” The result is 0 to 60 mph in 4.3 seconds—0.3 second quicker than the GT (or a Camaro SS) and only 0.2 second behind the jackhammer GT500. Once that live axle is placated . . . well, here’s the telltale statistic: From 5 to 60 mph, the Boss loses not an inch to the GT500 and is but 0.1 second behind a BMW M3. The accelerative kick flings sunglasses and coins and pens in the center bin backward against a plastic wall, sounding as if they’ve just hit the bottom of a ventilator shaft. Through the quarter-mile, the engine pulls like a Tennessee mule—no valleys, no holes—slingshotting the Boss 0.4 second ahead of the GT and only 1 mph behind the M3.

All of this is accompanied by a mellifluous, resonance-free exhaust note that is an unlikely aural confluence of, say, Lexus
IS F and Roush/Yates Sprint Cup engine. It’s a four-way exhaust—two sewer pipes astern and one per side exiting just in front of the rear wheels. A restrictor plate in each side pipe lends the Boss federal pass-by legality, but the baffles can be unbolted in less time than it takes to read this review. It’s lucky that the rumble is so rich, because the engine is seriously loud at idle.

The Boss’s suspension has likewise benefited from a lavish labor of love. Compared with the GT, it boasts stiffer springs, a fatter rear stabilizer bar, new bushings, and 19-inch Pirelli P Zeros that, at the rear, are mounted on 9.5-inch-wide wheels. What’s more, each shock offers five settings that are adjustable via screwdriver, creating the possibility of very strange chassis behavior at the hands of very strange owners. Again, is Ford brave or what? And experimenting with dampers is educational, fun, and will make you feel like Parnelli Jones’s crew chief.