A sensational story begins with a simple iPhone photo taken from a moving rental car. The sun sends its first rays across the Texan landscape. On our way to the F1 race track, early in the morning at 7 a.m., we are driving on a small, typical Texan side road called McKenzie Road. A photo of the sunrise is taken through the windshield. Mirko's later editing on the computer makes the picture really exciting. Wow, cool, all we need now is a nice old Mustang and a real Texan model, were our first thoughts.
Sunday after the F1 race, Mirko suddenly says in passing: "Dani, the shoot is going well, you just have to organize the Mustang!" "What do you mean?" "Yes, the one grid girl would play along, so we'd already have a model." "Aha", I thought, Mirko wants to fuck me. Tired, we arrive at the hotel in the evening and have a beer together. Mirko suddenly nudges me and says that Roccio, Sergio Pérez's grid girl, is texting to ask what she should wear to the shoot. I don't let on that I still don't believe it and reply that something cowboy-style would be best, just like she wore on the grid - definitely real Texan boots. Yes, Mirko thinks that's good too and starts writing a text message. A short time later, he replies that it won't work that way because Roccio has already handed in the grid clothes. I slowly realize that the two of them are serious. I also realize that we now need a car. A Mustang would be nice - a white 1964 Mustang!
Well, we still have the whole of Monday to find a car, which should be at the model's place on Tuesday morning at 6:30 am. But as this is our first time in Austin, we don't know anyone who could help us in any way.
During breakfast, we start searching the internet. It doesn't get us one millimeter further. So we drive all over Austin. Asking around at a few used car dealers doesn't help either. Then we catch sight of the first, but "red" Mustang in a backyard, unfortunately in an undriveable and absolutely lousy condition. Conclusion: unusable.
Then, by chance, we come across a backyard garage with a white '65 Mustang. A car exactly as we imagined it, absolutely perfect. The owner, sitting comfortably back in an old futon and leisurely scraping his lunch out of a Tupperware cup, shows zero enthusiasm. He just says that he can't possibly leave his business alone for two hours, not even early in the morning. He is so swamped with work and NO, he can't and won't do that. NO, he doesn't know any other Mustang owners either. NO, he can't and won't help us now.
Further research leads us to a collector of historic cars. It's the CEO of the Hyundai dealership in Austin, Southpoint. However, we can't approach him personally for the time being. The employee says that he rarely comes into the company anymore, but that he would like to ask him, although he is 99.9% sure that he would not be involved. His collection is very special and exclusive. We don't know what kind of cars they are either. Our contacts are deposited, albeit with little hope.
Unfortunately, the museum in San Marco with 75 old Amis is too far away at 35 miles. The search continues. A haphazard drive through a neighborhood of single-family homes leads us to an orange Mustang Mach l convertible with a white roof. The color doesn't match and the condition is unfortunately anything but photogenic.
We continue to wander around the city and suddenly, as if by a miracle, this ice-blue Ford Galaxie 500 with an open hood appears in a front garden. This car would be perfect. We are greeted very nicely by three men standing around the car. The owner listens to our request and is immediately enthusiastic. Yes, he agrees, but then voices an objection. He is about to sell the car to one of the other two men present. If the sale goes through, he is no longer responsible, he says. The negotiations between the three of them continue and suddenly the "still" owner calls out to us: "He will buy the car. You need to talk to him now!" A thick bundle of dollar notes is changing hands and we start to make our idea palatable to the not exactly slim new owner. He doesn't find the idea uninteresting straight away, but getting up early takes some persuading. After taking a close look at the iPhone photo of the location and realizing that the sunrise is extremely important for the picture, he agrees. So now everything is perfect. We have a car, a model and the weather should also play along.
Back at the hotel, we send an e-mail with the photo of the galaxy to our model Roccio, telling him that everything is now perfect. The answer knocks us off our feet. Now that she realizes the seriousness of the situation, she gets cold feet and pulls out at short notice. So now we have the salad, we first had a model and no car, so now we are sitting on a car, but we have lost the model.
Ok, you could just take photos of the car, but that's not really the appeal of the thing, and the new owner of the Galaxie wants to take part in the expected photos, not least because of the woman. Now we can't disappoint him.
Can't the model who jumped off help us? A Facebook circular to all 23 Grid Girl colleagues gave us hope again late Monday afternoon. But we rejoiced too soon! The CotA (Circuit of the Americas) actually banned all grid girls from taking part in the shoot. However, we don't have the time to negotiate with the CotA and we can't understand the point of the intervention. Why should the GP organizer still be able to decide on the private lives of the girls two days after the race?
Despite the ban, Sarah gets in touch to say that she really wants to do it with us, but only after eight o'clock because she still has to drive her mother to work. Unfortunately, the sun is already way too high at eight and the owner of the galaxy also has to be at work at half past seven. So again, nothing.
A local photographer colleague called Taylor suddenly turns out to be our absolute last resort. Late in the evening, he manages to convince a colleague called Emily to join him. As the shoot is taking place before her lecture at university, she is immediately very helpful. A late-night text message to the owner of the galaxy confirms that things can now go ahead after all.
The final adrenaline rush comes early in the morning when Taylor calls to say that he can't find Emily at the agreed meeting point. As expected, our call gets her out of bed.
Tuesday morning at 6:10 a.m. we stand in the Texas darkness at our location on McKenzie Road and wait in the good hope that the Galaxie and Emily will arrive before sunrise .....
We will show you the complete photo production in the Ford Galaxie 500 report at a later date.