So you want to make the Big Time? We’re all driven to be noticed — maybe it’s fame and notoriety, a sense of immortality, a desire to serve others. I thought we’d look at how someone started making the Big Time during the Fox-body era.

Here’s how the story didn’t start. A guy calls Ford Motor Company’s main phone number. He says, “I want to build some special Mustangs. Who do I talk to?” Immediately, the operator connects him to Mr. Robert Rewey, who tells the guy it sounds like a great idea. Mr. Rewey then asks, “How many Mustangs do you need, and where do you want them delivered? Oh, and can Ford give you a big discount for being such a loyal customer and all-around swell guy?”

Here’s how it really started. Back in the early ’80s, Steve Saleen switched from driving Porsches to driving Mustangs. And he was driven to make performance Mustangs available to other enthusiasts. In early 1984, he went to a local Ford dealer and purchased a Mustang (I haven’t talked to him about it, but I’m willing to bet he paid retail).

When you refl ect back on when you started your fi rst restoration project, there were numerous hurdles and barriers. Perhaps it’s naïveté or youthful optimism that pushes us to strive for that Impossible Dream. It’s probably a blessing that we can’t see the future, else we might not attempt half of what we do if up front we knew all the poo we’d have to go through.

Steve received a Mustang that was just like any other. It had no special seats, nothing was custom-fi tted, and there were no deletions for items not required. Shortly thereafter, he ordered a couple more Mustangs.

When we start in the hobby, we don’t know the name of the guy at the parts house, and we don’t have the phone number of our favorite parts supplier memorized. We continue to be surprised and frustrated at how we have to buy another special tool to remove a part. With time, though, we learn the counter-guy’s name (and he starts offering us a 15 percent discount), and those specialty tools start coming in handy.

In 1985, production ramped up at Saleen along with the opportunity to order using the DSO system. DSO is a confusing acronym with Ford Motor Company because it can stand for several things. Always the context makes it clear what it means. In this case, Steve began using the DSO (Domestic Special Order) system to get Mustangs more in line with how he wanted to customize them. This typically included Articulated Sport Seats, paint stripes deleted, and radio deleted. The accompanying invoice from an ’86 Mustang clearly shows these mods.

Any endeavor we pursue eventually leads to decisions that make or break us. When restoring a Mustang, we might decide to spend extra money to make it better or cut a corner to save time. When we serve another in business, these decisions become crucial to our success. In 1987, a friend of mine, Austin Craig, asked Steve to build him a Saleen coupe, which had not been done before. Steve agreed. At the time, front fascias on Saleens were mounted with adhesive. It turned out that this adhesive was not suited for cold weather. Austin lived in Michigan. Driving home one day, he caught some snow that popped the fascia off the front and flung it some 20 feet. Austin had it reattached with fasteners and notified Steve.

Would Steve figure this was a onetime incident and let it slide? Would he investigate and make mods to production? This and thousands of other decisions make or break each of us as we strive for excellence or settle for mediocrity. Steve’s Saleen Mustangs began to employ fasteners for the fascia, which did cost him more — but not in the long run.

By 1988, Steve’s operation received enough notice within Ford that the Mustangs he ordered were assigned a code within the Vehicle Order Image. He received code S in column 31. But, a comical thing about the decoding books is that the code is listed as “Saline.”

More than once I’ve caught the look on Steve’s face as someone mispronounced his name. I’ve often heard it mispronounced as Say-Lean. And obviously within Ford it was said that way enough that when the VOI system engineers were laying out his code, they spelled his name the way they heard it. Then the ’89 model year came along, and the decoding manuals still listed his eponymous vehicle as a synonym for brine. Ouch — like rubbing salt in a wound.

Of course, a book can’t be judged by its cover, and Shakespeare opined a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet. In the end, what matters isn’t the mispronounced name, but what these vehicles do on the street or at the track. This is why the Saleen name is well known (if not always pronounced correctly).

When you hit the show circuit and you’re carrying home your first trophy, or Tom Shaw says he wants to photograph your Fox for the magazine, those old and sometimes painful memories of working on your car come drifting back in. Interestingly, they get reinterpreted. Originally, there were four-letter words associated with the skinned knuckles. Now, you tell the story to your friends about the restoration and brag about the scars you received while conquering the beast. You’ve made the Big Time.

You’ve made the Big Time when your name is spelled AND pronounced correctly. That’s Saleen (suh-lean) to you. So when you see him next time, say, “Hi, Mr. Suh-lean.” Or just say, “Hi, Steve.” He’s a friendly enough guy that he answers to that, too. After all, he made the Big Time.