1967 Mustang Indy Pacesetter Special

1967 Ford Mustang Indy Pacesetter Special – Ultimate Guide

1967 Mustang Indy Pacesetter Special

In 1967, Ford expected the Mustang to pace the legendary Indy 500 race again as it did three years previously. Although that didn’t happen, Ford still offered an Indy Pacesetter special model. It featured a white color with racing stripes in and outside the vehicle. Not much else is known about the 1967 Indy Pacesetter Special. It did not officially participate in the Indy 500 so there just isn’t much research about it.

The hardtop came with brief double Scotchlite stripes over the door as well as the appropriate signature on the selector level. The exterior was Wimbledon White exterior paint. The car also featured a special rear grille (white taillight panel with blue pin stripe highlights), sporty louvered hood with integrated turn signals, sport tires with the optional V8, bucket seats, blue interior vinyl trim, full carpeting, and full wheel covers with whitewall tires.

It was sold only by the Indianapolis District Sales Office in the month of May, also the same month the Indy 500 takes place. They were dealer specials to boost sales in the month of May. Still a cool piece of Mustang history if you ask me. The best guess in term of production is that it is believed 324 of these cars were built in total.


  1. I bought an Indy Pacesetter in East Lansing, Michigan for 600 bucks, back in the fall of 1972 when I was a freshman in college at Kettering University in Flint. The owners, a middle-aged couple in an upscale neighborhood, had bought it new, but couldn’t tell me anything about the car except that it was some sort of special edition, name unknown. Until a few years ago, I was still in the dark as to the car’s provenance, because I’d never seen another one like it, nor read anything about the things. It was a rust bucket by the time I bought it, having spent its years in snow country. But I loved it. The early Mustangs had lots of interior room — no headrests, lots of seat adjustment, nothing sticking in your face. The long hood was prominent in the driver’s view out the windshield, and I loved the cool-looking cutouts in the hood, from which little amber lights blinked back toward the driver to show which turn signal was activated. A tiny pedal to the left of the brake could activate the wipers while held down, and, if pressed quickly enough, would also provide a squirt of washer fluid; both came in very handy. I discovered both aspects of this pedal the first time I searched with my foot for the dimmer switch, which was conventional and eventually found nearby. A peppy and handsome car, if you didn’t look too closely. In addition to some of the body steel, tiny bits of the blue side striping were also missing, but, as with the rust, it wasn’t noticeable from afar. I can attest to the features you describe, and a few others, except for that “selector level” insignia; you’re probably referring to the gear selector lever, but I don’t remember noticing any special insignia anywhere during my several years of ownership. As a point of interest, the special rear valence panel, rather than being the usual steel, was a single piece of white press-molded fiberglass with raised horizontal ribs; in between these ribs were strips of the the same iridescent blue tape as on the sides of the car. Alas, I traded in the car on a used Cutlass in 1976, just before I finally graduated from college in Tucson. The local Mercedes dealer had advertised a 300 dollar trade-in allowance on any car in any condition, and I saw my chance. After adhering to the deal and coughing up my money, the dealer probably sent the car to the crusher, for in those days rusty nine-year-old Mustangs had no appeal in the market — especially in Tucson, where buyers were accustomed to finding zero rust on cars of any age. In my years of ownership, back in the pre-cellphone days, I took exactly one photograph of my Mustang, using a black-and-white Polaroid camera borrowed from a science lab at Kettering. The pic is faded, now, but I still like to look at it now and then, and remember the car — and my youth!

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