Nothing screams American excess quite like the muscle car.

As the former owner of a number of mid-level performance cars over the past few years, I can tell you without hesitation that there is a distinct separation between a muscle or pony car, and a sports car.

A sports car offers a cross between power and handling. Manufacturers go to great lengths to keep curb weight down, and performance statistics like slalom times and skid pad numbers up. A good sports car gently and smoothly deposits you in deep in into your plush leather seat in the most gentlemanly way possible. To put this into more sporting terms, the sports car is your flashy, Gayle Sayers- type half back.

A muscle car is disposes of all of this pageantry. American steel is bent against it's will to wrap around and cover massive engine blocks measured in cubic inches, not liters. Carbon fiber and aluminum lacks the strength to withstand the torque and punishment put forth by engines so proud they are stamped with the cities that built them like "Windsor" and "Cleveland." If there isn't a massive plume of smoke billowing from two rear tires begging for mercy, you sir, need a bigger blower.

The pony car cares not for it's curb weight, and refuses to listen to slalom and skid pad statistics. This beast wasn't meant for long, windy country roads. She was built for one thing: a straight, violent, and awe-inspiring shot from one stop light to the next. She doesn't guide you into the back of your seat, she slams you back with all the subtlety of a sledge hammer and forces the fillings in your teeth to sign a waiver. The muscle car is the fullback. A twice the size and half a step slower out of the gates, but heaven help you if you happen across his path.

Muscle cars inspire legendary names like Mustang, GTO, Trans-Am, Chevelle, Charger, and Cuda. Most of them now gone. Some in the process of being re-born.

Asking me to pick the best is like asking a parent to choose their favorite child.

Yet in my dreams, I see myself cruising down the strip in a beautiful Mustang that has been refined by the artful hands of one Carrol Shelby. The smoothest lines coupled with steel twisting and bone shattering power. You know, the type of car that you unleash for your own personal enjoyment. The kind of machine that has proven itself by merely resting at idle.

This is merely my personal preference. To each his own. As a general rule, the best muscle car is the monster that makes your dreams the very sweetest, while making everyone else's a pure nightmare.

Learn more about this author, Joe Jenkins.
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