I was six years old when the Mustang was introduced halfway through the 1964 model year. Its April unveiling at the World’s Fair in New York came six months after President Kennedy’s assassination, and was a needed diversion form the pall that still hung over the country – and the world. Based, as it was, on the floorpan of the Falcon – a compact-size economy car created to do battle with VW’s Beetle, Chevy’s Corvair, and Plymouth’s Valiant – the Mustang was not a sports car, no matter how hard Ford tried to convince people that it was.

Ford had passed on producing a true sports car – the Mustang I, a mid-engined two-seater with side radiators – and wisely went for the volume potential of the four-passenger coupe with the long hood and short rear deck. And the choice paid off with nearly 500,000 units sold in the Mustang’s first full year of production. Though I liked the original a lot, I was smitten with the next-generation car – sold in 1967-1968 – as it was brawnier and more modern looking. I also fell in love with the 1970 Boss 302 as it combined straight line performance and handling in a sleek package. But that was as far as it went.

In 1971, the Mustang became bloated, corpulent, and inefficient. In 1974, it became more efficient, but was too closely related to the Pinto to be called a true Mustang. In 1979 – yes we had to wait five years before the mini Mustang was put out to pasture – sanity returned with a Mustang based on a modified Ford Fairmont/Mercury Zephyr platform. Unfortunately, it stayed around relatively unchanged until 1994, when it was heavily revised before being replaced in 2005.

This brings us to the 2010 version of the original pony car. Past Ford practice would have seen the car receive a front and rear freshening, interior upgrade, minor equipment upgrades, and not much else. And for most Mustang fans, that would have been enough to see it soldier on until its replacement. I would have dutifully reported on the changes, but there would be no passion in the act as I have never really wanted to own a Mustang.

The reason is simple: For all of the hype and hoopla, this car has been caught somewhere between faux sport car and affordable muscle car for most of its existence. It has relied on its looks and not its abilities to draw customers, and it has never worked terribly well on the road in terms of its ability to flow from one corner to another. True, if you grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and threw it into a corner or used its V8 to light up the tires or to hold a power slide, it could be scarily entertaining. But those opportunities are few and far between, and so small a part of the ownership experience as to be immaterial.

So it was with trepidation that I approached the Track Pack-equipped GT and headed up Pacific Coast Highway and toward the canyon roads. With its stiffer springs and dampers, it promised to ride like the covered wagons that brought people west so many years ago, especially with that unrepentant live rear axle holding up the tail of the car. I would have to console myself with the fact that the facelift was greater than expected (every exterior panel save the roof is changed), the interior upgrades looked and felt like something you would expect from VW or Audi – not cost-conscious Ford – and the exhaust note was more refined and yet more primal than ever before.

It wasn’t long before a series of tight curves presented themselves, and the real disappointment was about to set in. Only this time – and for the first time in memory – the front and rear of the car didn’t send different messages. Instead, they worked together. Someone within Ford has finally realized that the front-to-rear roll couple not only determines how a vehicle will feel as it tracks through a turn, it has a tremendous effect on initial turn-in, corner flow, response to mid-corner power application, and numerous other measures that determine whether or not a vehicle inspires confidence. There was no more having to pitch the nose in to quell the understeer and get the chassis to lean on the outside rear tire for balance, or the excessive roll that formerly would unload the inner tire and reduce its contribution.

Even more enjoyable was the transition from one direction to another, which flowed with a fluency I never thought possible from a Mustang – or most Fords, for that matter. And though the engineers denied it, I’d even swear the placement of the pedals had been refined in order to make heel-and-toe downshifts easier. This is a Mustang?

Unfortunately, there was no opportunity to test the suspension out on bumpier surfaces, though the few occasions when significant bumps were found indicated that the ride and handling engineers figured out how to use more of the damper’s stroke more effectively, though more progressivity is necessary as it reaches full extension. Nevertheless, it was a huge improvement over the last-generation car, and almost enough to make me forget the lack of an independent rear suspension. Almost. I’m sure I’ll have a somewhat different opinion on roads with copious mid-corner bumps and undulations.

Even so, this was the first time in my life that I could honestly say I could see myself buying a Mustang. And that, I think, says it all.