Human-Generated Automotive Gibberish
Miata is always the answer, if only for a moment.
There are two kinds of crazy, the kind where you go out of your way to do something irresponsible for the sake of feeling something, and the kind where you try to do something “smart” for the sake of being responsible. When you finally get fed up with your nightmare project car, the one that seemed both a bad idea and the answer to all your dreams, you end up doing the latter kind of crazy and purchase your sixth Miata.
Less is more, unless we’re talking about revs.
Perhaps this conflict comes from spending a lifetime lusting after modified cars, but it can feel difficult to name a vehicle that combines all my favorite details. One car may have the chassis I want, but another the powertrain, and another yet the styling. If you have talent, time, money or, quite unlikely, all three, you can create the car of your dreams.
You know better, but what’s the fun in that?
In your late-20s you will find a questionably modified econobox. You should buy it, assuming you’re a glutton for punishment and don’t realize it’s going to take over your personality. As the honeymoon dissipates, you will discover that the previous owners generally quarter-assed their way through the build before your bumbling bird brain came on the scene. Yes, you have been down this road before, but it’s been months since you made your last fun car purchase, and Craigslist is just staring you down with another one of those boxes you’ve always wanted to check. After all, this is what dreams are raged from.
High Fidelity or Soulful Grit? Choose one.
One of the best and worst parts of music streaming is that you don’t always know what song you’re going to hear. Maybe you’ve had the same song from the same artist on the same playlist for years but, one day, Spotify or the powers that be change which version they’re hosting. You pull up the app, hit play, and hear most of the familiar cues from the song you know and love. And then suddenly the nuances of whatever remaster or radio edit you’re listing to come through. You recoil and pick up your phone to check that you tapped on the right song. You did, but what you’re experiencing is…different. That is what it feels like the first time you tuck an M42-powered E30 into a corner for the first time.
There comes a point in a car’s lifetime when it is simply a used car. A pile of metal and rubber forgotten to all but the most dedicated owner or poorest college student. Cars that the California Air Resources Board offers you $1000 for every two years. That prompt a swipe left when included in your profile pic. That inform your co-workers that an older car to you is from twenty years ago, not five.
We’re in an odd spot, those of us who appreciate cars of this flavor. It’s even difficult to name this grouping of car so many of us are enthralled by. You can’t call them classic without fear of the homie with a ’70 Charger and matching torque wrench coming after you. Calling them vintage feels wrong, the very utterance of the word clouds your vision in sepia filters and sparks the uncontrollable urge to nonchalantly light a cigarette and exhale toward the ceiling.
I suppose we could call them…Rad.
Stop light interlude.
Wiggle the steering wheel. Blip the throttle. Check the distance between it and the brake. Slot the lever from first gear to second to first. Observe the shift distance.
Light changes. Green means go.
Note the clutch take-up. Roll halfway into the throttle, then mat it. Slight giggle as the rear tires pay lip-service to the concept of traction. Slight giggle from the passenger as her seat tilts back with the force of acceleration, forward with the brakes.
Stop light interlude.
So…what are you looking for when you drive a car?
If it hasn’t become obvious by now, I want to drive everything. Or at least everything that interests me.
Continue reading “A History of Vehicles – ’03 Toyota MR2 Spyder”
I challenge you, dear reader. I challenge you to look deep down inside yourself, to search your feelings, find what’s real, and answer me one thing…
Car season is nearly upon us! The days are getting longer, the nights are getting warmer, and it seems the roads that have survived this winter’s deluge are clean enough to explore again.
Here comes the sun (doo doo doo doo),
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s time to drive
