Somehow we’re at Car 11 and I’ve yet to offer any advice. Of course, that we’re only at Car 11 with no end in sight means I should be asking for it rather than doling it out. But the following advice would have prevented a couple of gaffes for me and may safeguard your sanity, pocketbook, or marriage in the future: Never Buy a Modified Car.
Of course, there are exceptions to this. Maybe you built a car with your best bud and have been waiting to take it off their hands. Or the modifications are solely comprised of a short-shift kit and a cat-back exhaust. Or an Alfaholics-built Giulia pops up (ah, dreams). Nearly every other situation, however, is subject to this rule.
I’m not a numbers-matching, multiply asking price by 1.65 because never driven, “dear god, that’s the wrong shift knob for 1972.5” kind of person. But I’ve come to realize the best car to start with is a stock car, even if it’s a little worn. With the premium some sellers attach to even the most mundane modifications, you often end up paying more for a car you’re going to have to re-do yourself.
This is not a blanket jab at the quality of modifications or changes owners make to their cars, but more highlighting that two drivers are rarely alike. When buying a typical modified car, you’re getting into something that may have been perfect for the last driver, but fits you like Mark Hamill in yoga pants. Horrific images aside, I had a similarly ill-fitted experience here.
It seemed like easy math, I was looking to do more track time and the car came with a roll bar, a Torsen diff, some chassis bits, a massive front sway bar, and custom valved dampers with matched spring rates. All of it came together to handle exactly how the last driver desired, and it wasn’t like this was my first worked-over Miata. Modified is modified, right?
But the setup just never worked for me. I played with the alignment, with tire pressures, and messed with a bunch of other components. But ultimately making the car behave the way I wanted would have required removing all the trick stuff and starting over, despite purposely having bought the car for those parts.
Lots of my usual backroad fun and a few track days were driven in this car, but it always felt like I was fighting the previous owner. I could have just sucked it up and yanked the suspension off, bought all new bits and started over to make it what I wanted. But I would have felt bad for tearing apart someone else’s work. At this point, I was also hankering for an earlier NA, one with the 1.6L motor. By chance, a new forum goer was looking for his first Miata, and after a couple brief test drives it was his. I still run into the owner at track days, and oddly enough he’s more than happy with the way it is.
From shoes to pizza toppings, people have differing preferences. It’s important to not pay a premium for someone else’s without being sure you can live with their penchant for double anchovies, or chassis set-ups optimized for someone else’s driving style.
This brings up a sticky point in when is one car ever worth more than another. There are cars posted as all-original survivors or tastefully modified that end up getting tacked with similar price padding. But as these are all emotional purchases anyway, buyers should just be mindful to appraise a car based on what they want to get into, and not what someone wants to get out of.
Especially if they’re getting out of Mark Hamill’s yoga pants.