27/02/2026
Maybe they should’ve
The Only Mustang G.T. 350 Station Wagon in the World And the Man Keeping Its Story Alive
It’s my Mustang G.T. 350 station wagon, a car that shouldn’t exist, a car Ford never built, a car that confuses people before it amazes them. Whenever I take it out, I can see the questions forming before anyone even speaks. Is that a Mustang? A wagon? Both? And when someone finally realizes what it is, their face changes. That moment never gets old.
The idea of a Mustang station wagon goes back to the 1960s, when dreamers inside the car world imagined what might happen if performance met practicality. Ford ultimately passed on the concept. But somewhere along the way, a designer sketched a Shelby G.T. 350 wagon, a bold, almost rebellious idea. Most people would have left it as ink on paper.
Bob Hoshiko didn’t.
To understand why this car matters, you have to understand what the G.T. 350 represents. In 1965, Ford turned to the legendary race-car builder Carroll Shelby to transform the young Mustang into something fierce enough for competition. The result was the Shelby G.T. 350, raw, purposeful, and produced in limited numbers. Today, they’re prized, almost sacred, especially in that iconic white with blue racing stripes. I own two originals, a ’65 and a ’66. They’re special cars.
But this wagon… this one tells a different story.
In the 1970s, Bob Hoshiko, a Southern California hot-rodder with imagination and nerve, saw that old sketch and decided it deserved to exist. He didn’t build it as a novelty. He built it with conviction. Starting with a standard Mustang, he carefully reshaped it into a station wagon, tracking down genuine Shelby parts, even fitting it with a high-performance 289 V-8. He obsessed over the details. He made sure it felt right.
When I first saw the car about 30 years ago at a show in Los Angeles, I couldn’t stop staring. It looked both familiar and impossible at the same time. I remember thinking, This shouldn’t work. But it does. I was hooked instantly.
Over time, I got to know Bob. He told me the story himself, how the idea took hold of him, how he couldn’t let it go until it was real. I admired him for that. Not just for his craftsmanship, but for his willingness to build something no one else had the courage to attempt.
When he passed away about 15 years ago, it felt like a chapter had closed. Then, about eight years ago, I had the opportunity to buy the wagon. I don’t think of myself as its owner. I think of myself as its caretaker. Bob gave it life. I just make sure it keeps breathing.
At shows, people gather around it in disbelief. Some laugh. Some argue about whether it’s “correct.” Some just stand quietly, taking it in. And then they ask the question I love most: What’s the story?
That’s why I bring it out. Because cars like this aren’t just metal and horsepower. They’re ideas that refused to die. They’re risk, imagination, and persistence. Every time I start that engine, I feel connected not just to the 1960s, not just to Shelby history, but to Bob, standing in a Southern California garage decades ago, deciding that a dream on paper deserved to become steel and chrome.
There is only one Mustang G.T. 350 station wagon in the world.
And somehow, it found its way to me.
