The cabin spaciousness alludes early on to what the Mustang will be like on the road, once you’ve slunk down into its seat and shut its long driver’s door. (Think twice about tight car parks.)
With a high window line and an interior and driving position well spaced out, you soon get an idea that this isn’t going to be one of those drives whose characteristics will major on agility.
Instead, you lift the clutch and woofle away with the 2.6-turn-lock-to-lock steering bringing about secure but moderately paced direction changes.
Not that this is a terrible thing in itself. As you cruise away, the Mustang, regardless of what weight you ask its steering to provide (there are a few options), eases down slowish roads with a compliant, nonchalant gait.
A Porsche Cayman would have got the jiggles by now and a 2 Series might have shifted on its springs a little. A Mustang retains that 5 Series-on-base-wheels amble, unaffected by the kinds of surface imperfections we think are big over here but barely register compared with the gaps between concrete slabs they drop into US highways.
You can put the steering wheel on the right side for us, but you can’t disguise the size – and origination – of the Mustang. At lower speeds, and on a road that’s wide enough, this is no bad thing at all.
As you up the ante, the Mustang question starts to become a little more complex. Let’s face it: this is a big car, considerately sprung to the extent that a TT outdoes it for body control.
But although the ’Stang thinks for too long about how to make its body settle over complicated asphalt, there always retains a pleasing honesty to it. It’s well balanced, it settles more quickly than most American sports cars and it doesn’t always retain complete traction. And with all of that comes a sense of clean fun that means you can forgive it a great many things.