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.
Open road? Check.
Top of second gear? Check.
Weird ridge in the tarmac? Check.
Poorly matched shocks? Check, check, check.
We are cleared for take off.
Or at least that was the monologue as the Miata initiated a sideways twerk over the aforementioned irregularity in the road surface. In this car, on this part of the road, there are two choices. Hold off on throttle application until you’re well past to avoid the sickening pogo action of the R-Package Bilsteins on an undulating surface or….whoop over it and just deal. Miss Daisy isn’t riding passenger today, or ever, so whooping is the most often the choice.
Mazda could have done more with the ND MX-5 RF.
It just feels so…half-assed.
I get it. There’s budgets, getting type approval, and avoiding corruption of the MX-5 né Miata’s core mission of lightweight, uncomplicated fun. But they could have done more.
Back to basics.
At least, that was the idea. After being so put off by the idea of having to strip my last Miata down just to rebuild it into what I wanted, I decided it was time to try something a little different. This would be my fourth NA Miata, but my first example powered by the 1.6L B6ZE.
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.
I couldn’t tell you where my head was. For a short while I spent street sweeping days running back and forth moving this car and the MR2 around. This wasn’t the first time I’d owned two cars at once, but it was the first time I thought it’d be a good idea to own two two-seaters.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Despite looking for something lighter, my “scalpel” as previously mentioned, it wasn’t supposed to be this car. It had a torn top, blown suspension, an ugly steering wheel wrap, and the rear bumper was from a white car with a red smiley face rattle canned onto the passenger side. I was supposed to get my residual, festering teenage idiocy out of my system with this car. I was gonna slam it on cheap suspension, get stupid wide wheels, an annoyingly loud exhaust, and do everything you could possibly do that was annoying to bystanders but secretly kind of fun.
