This 1968 Shelby Mustang GT350 looks like it was hermetically sealed in a container 50 Years ago.
It’s been over 50 years since the Mustang first bolted from its factory floor on April 17, 1964—and all these years later, it still has the kind of road presence that makes petrolheads stop mid-sentence. So, when a genuine Shelby GT350 crosses your path, you take notice. And if you’re lucky—like Nick Vernon—you buy it.
The Shelby GT350 is no ordinary Mustang. Born out of a collaboration between Ford and Texan racer (and chicken farmer) Carroll Shelby, it took the original pony car and transformed it into a road-legal race machine. What you see on the street is a tamer version of the fire-breathing 1965 GT350-R that dominated the track. And Nick’s 1968 GT350 is a time capsule from that golden era of American performance.
Nick didn’t exactly set out looking for one. The classified ad was for a Corvette Stingray, but tucked beneath it in tiny lettering were the words: Shelby Mustang. That was all the convincing he needed. He got a friend in the car trade to check the import papers, and the two of them hopped on a flight to Joburg. What they found wasn’t just a car—it was a showroom crammed with 20 classics, and right there among them sat the Shelby, gleaming like it had just been peeled from a factory wrapper.
Imported from the U.S. in 2010 and originally purchased there in 2007, this car came with all the right paperwork—including a Marti Report to back its heritage. Number 317 of just 1,053 units built that year, Nick’s Shelby had everything going for it: original Sunlit Gold paint (Ford #3073), a straight, rust-free body, extra white racing stripes added post-respray, and an untouched interior in immaculate condition. The only deviation from factory spec was an automatic gearbox—installed, as the story goes, after 18 years of marital pressure on the original owner to ditch the manual.
When Nick first laid eyes on the car, it looked perfect. “It looked like it was hermetically sealed in a container 50 years ago and only opened yesterday,” he says. Even though the engine made a noise like a bag of loose bolts, he bought it on the spot. In hindsight, he admits he should’ve haggled a little—or at least let the seller sort out the gremlins.
It wasn’t long before those gremlins made themselves known. The car arrived in Montague Gardens at 10pm on a truck, but refused to start. Nick left it in a stranger’s warehouse overnight, hoping it would still be there by morning. It was. But once started, it managed only 100 metres before dying.
The culprit? A fuel tank that looked new but had sat with petrol in it for three years. Condensation created a half-inch of rust inside, which was then sucked straight into the carb. Someone had also slathered the valve springs in grease to quiet them down. There was no oil pressure, and the conrod bolts were worryingly loose. Nick jokes, “If I’d revved it past 3000rpm, you’d have seen daylight through the block.”
He handed it over to Ferrolli Performance, who thankfully discovered the engine internals were brand new—just poorly assembled. After tightening everything, replacing bearings and cleaning out the sludge, the engine ran perfectly. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the rest of the car.
The speedo was the only functioning gauge. Nick feared the rev counter might cost him a grand—before shipping. He decided to dig into the rat’s nest under the dash and found that years of dust and grime had simply interfered with the connectors. A deep clean was all it took to bring everything back to life.
But then came the bodywork. It turns out the philosophy of the previous owner was to not tighten bolts after a respray, in case the paint cracked. “I had to go over the entire car with a spanner,” Nick recalls. “Otherwise, it would've rattled apart like a kid’s Lego set.”
The original 4-speed manual gearbox still waits patiently in the corner of his garage. Nick’s not in a rush to swap it in. As he puts it, “Everything's working too well right now—I don’t want to tempt fate.” Besides, the furthest he’s taken it so far is Melkbosstrand. Which, in a car like this, is probably enough to make an impression.
Despite the headaches, the Shelby is pure magic. That gold paint shines like it belongs on a trophy, the white stripes give it just the right amount of bravado, and the interior—complete with black Decor bucket seats, vinyl trim, and a rollbar with shoulder-harness seatbelts—feels like something out of an old Le Mans film. The SportsDeck rear seat folds flat, just in case you’re under six feet tall and feel like reliving a drive-in movie moment.
Power steering makes it surprisingly civilised, and the 15x7 Shelby aluminium wheels wrapped in beefy 255/60s at the back and 235/60s up front give it a perfect stance. Underneath, it’s still rocking that welded unibody chassis, 3.89 standard axle, and a suspension setup that’s more racer than cruiser—with unequal-length control arms, coil springs, and a front anti-sway bar matched to a live rear axle and multi-leaf springs. It stops with Kelsey-Hayes front discs and rear drums, exactly as Carroll Shelby intended.
Today, Nick’s GT350 stands not just as a survivor, but a statement. A piece of automotive history brought back to life—with some grease under the fingernails and a few hard lessons along the way. As for the promised drive down the racetrack? Nick offered a consolation prize: a ride in his supercharged Camaro. But something about the Shelby’s raw charm makes that feel like trading whiskey for energy drinks.
So, if you happen to spot a gold blur cruising down the Cape coast, now you know the story behind it. Just don’t ask to borrow the spanner—Nick’s still not finished tightening bolts.
