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.
In hindsight, as is typical for me, the Corolla kerfuffle wasn’t that bad. Fine, I bought an example that was much more of a project than I wanted or anticipated, but it was coming together. The suspension was half sorted, the engine was keeping oil burn low and the rev limit high, and it still looked like the kouki coupe of my dreams. Unfortunately, the transmission exiting this mortal coil was more than I could stand after weeks and months at a time without being able to go for drive, being that the 86 was my only car when I bought it.
But we’re talking about this Miata, a 1999 NB. Time has emptied my memory of the trim level, but it definitely had the small options I cared about, that being the nice little Nardi three-spoke steering wheel and a Torsen LSD (some donuts on the test-drive made sure of it). On the drive home from the Craigslist flipper’s house (open title and everything) I discovered that the AC didn’t work and the driver-side window was more enthusiastic about going down than up, but hey, we had something to drive while the Corolla was down.
At least that was the initial plan. A nice, cheap, well-cared for Miata to daily while I threw money at the car I actually cared about – the Corolla. This was essentially round 2 (or 3?) of my genius plan to keep a Miata as the daily and something finicky as the passion project in a “have my cake and eat it too” automotive fantasy. But I’m weak and lacking in automotive discipline, so that didn’t last too long.
In memory, it may have only been a month between me buying this reliable daily and deciding the 86 would be more useful as a source of modification funds than a second mouth (read: car) to feed. As told in the last installment, I sold it off to a future friend, and soon was filling my virtual cart with everything I needed to turn this used soap bar drop top into a do-it-all daily driver and canyon carver.
I already knew the recipe from my first Miata years prior. Xida coilovers from 949 Racing, frame rail reinforcements from Flyin’ Miata, some aggro brake pads, and a roll bar from whoever was making the good stuff. I then (and now) had a hard time considering any Miata a Forever Car, but they’re incredibly responsive to [suspension] mods, and this felt like coming home after a long time away, even if the home was one I had mixed feelings about.
Against my better judgement, I let a friend talk me into buying coilovers from a company they were doing some R&D for. The idea was that I could help support another small business, and would have additional support thanks to that friend being the go-between. I won’t name names, but long story short the product I received fell well below my quality expectations. I had intended to do a little experiment in seeing what a Miata would be like with near-stock ride height but a higher quality damper and stiffer springs, a solution to tackling my home backroad that was still my favorite but was becoming increasingly a rally stage.
After the homeboy coilovers blew their seals I changed my mind. In a similar vein to the Corolla and other non-Miata ownership experiences, it felt like the universe was telling me to stop dicking around and to just retrace my steps on the path I knew best. Or at least, after months of frustration trying to do something different I decided leaning on the knowledge I already had would lead to a more enjoyable experience.
In some ways Miatas feel like cheating. “The answer is always Miata,” and as already mentioned they’re so incredibly easy to source parts for and modify. In a flurry of online purchases I put the car together: Xida coilovers with the same track spring rates I had years earlier, the 15×8″ RPF1s I lusted after since before they existed (for so long, the only Miata RPF1 was the sad convex-face in 15×7″), aggressive pads and stainless brake lines, and a roll bar from then-upstart Blackbird Fabworx (whose design massively improved over incumbent Hard Dog Racing in seat fore-aft movement).
And…that was it. And this is my challenge with Miatas. It shouldn’t be a challenge, but I have one or seven screws loose. Once I threw all those affordable, easy-to-source parts at the car I drove the hell out of it. On backroads alone, on roadtrips to SoCal, on canyon rips with friends, in the carpool lane to San Francisco with my then-girlfriend, to the Miata Reunion at Laguna Seca when that was a thing. I tossed the keys to haters, to friends, to the aforementioned girlfriend, to anyone I thought needed to experience what a sorted Miata felt like. And I got bored.
On the long list of things my therapist should help me work through is why the hell I have such an aversion to cars that are fun but drama free. But we’re not there now, and I wasn’t then. With a steady job and tens of thousands of trouble-free miles on the NB I started thinking, “Don’t I deserve more?” If I’m going to sit in traffic to and from my decent-paying office job and only have a few hours an evening or weekend to rip around, I should be driving something more interesting, right?
Say what you want, but the Miata maintains one of the worst parts of the affordable British roadster tradition that inspired it in that the engine is lacking character. It’s rorty, perhaps, and you can add to the sonic experience with intakes and exhausts and all manner of adulterations, but the baseline just isn’t there. And it doesn’t need to be that way. Honda and Toyota have made brilliantly boisterous power plants over the years that need nothing in the way of mods to be enjoyed. Hell, even the Zetec engines which the Miata’s BP is arguable a cousin to leaves you something to remember. But the Miata trades aural mechanical joy for a more complete package. Where more budget could have gone into the engine’s character Mazda instead focused on sorting the suspension, body, and interior of what was and is a bespoke model in their lineup. That doesn’t make it a bad car, but it continues to be a factor in its longevity in my stable.
By the time I decided the Miata needed to go it wasn’t actually my only car. Any time I bored of its ho-hum engine or cramped plasticky interior I could have driven the E30 I concurrently owned. In fact, buying said E30 was a specific attempt to conjure up the ideal two-car solution. The Miata as a practical-ish daily that could also do the Kessel run when desired, and the E30 when I needed something more vintage, more warm in tone of both engine and general presence.
Alas, as always happens for me with Miatas, I couldn’t resist the challenge of replacing it with something I could tune to tackle a backroad just as well in, but with more character inside and out. The desk job and commute were also driving me a bit crazy. The kind of crazy that makes you do something irresponsible for the sake of feeling something. A couple weeks on Craigslist turned the NB from a possession to a pile of cash looking for a home, but we wouldn’t go too crazy this time, right?