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Step back 25 feet, and squint your eyes at a Mazda Miata.
Take in the shape, the no-nonsense roundness of the thing. Watch the sun glint off the silver surface. Gaze at it until your eyes fatigue. Now, flutter your eyelids and drift back in time.
You are traveling through the Reagan '80s, through Yuppies and the he-who-has-the-most-toys-wins generation. Through the '70s and anti-war protests into the '60s and civil rights battles and rebellion and iconoclastic lifestyle statements that were their own kind of conformity.
Your mind is stopping now. Stopping in the '50s. It is 1955, and James Dean just lit up the silver screen in "East of Eden". The 24-year-old actor has completed two other films, "Rebel Without a Cause" and "Giant", and now it's his time to play.
On Sept. 30, he slides behind the wheel of a Porsche Spyder and sets out for a weekend automobile race.
The Porsche is traveling 80 miles an hour up a winding coastal highway, the sun setting behind the Spyder's silver skin as a young pre-law student approaches from the opposite direction, sees nothing in the glare of highway-and-silver-and-sun and begins a slow left turn.
"He'll see us," were the last words Dean uttered, to his mechanic riding beside him.
Open your eyes now and return to 1991.
A Mazda Miata generates these kinds of visions. In an easy flash of imagination, the Miata can become a Porsche Spyder out there on a lonely highway with the sun setting behind it, and you, its driver, become James Dean. Only this time, you touch your brakes briefly, and the turning car crosses in front of you as you mutter under your breath.
The Miata is a time machine, a 1990's product that begs bygone eras back from somewhere deep in our brains. Alas, it cannot rewrite history; it can only make it.
It is all the sports cars we ever wanted from the '50s and '60s - the Porsche Spyder or Speedster, the MG-TD, the Jaguar, the Triumph - but without the troubles. As one writer said, "It's a sports car without the oil spot on the driveway."
It's a driver's dream. And it's a work of art.
There are finer touring cars. There are finer performance cars. There are finer utility vehicles. But there is nothing available at any price that delivers more sheer joy behind the wheel.
This perfection is no accident. It is the dream-made-reality of one man, Toshihiko Hirai.
As a post-World War II teenager, Hirai dreamed of some day owning a low-slung European roadster. As an adult, Hirai put in long hours designing boxy econocars for Mazda. Then, in 1986, he talked Mazda into letting him fulfill his teenage dream. He proposed creating for Mazda a ragtop sports car that would recapture the spirit of those World War II sports cars.
Oh my, how he succeeded.
"This is the car," Hirai says now, "that I've yearned for since childhood."
Most cars today perform the big tasks well. They are more trouble-free than ever before. They get reasonably good gasoline mileage. They last longer.
But it is in the small details that the Miata stands tall.
Consider its exhaust sound - or note, as enthusiasts refer to it.
Hirai wanted a sound somewhere between that of an MG and a Bugatti. He rounded up recordings of the exhaust sounds of all the classic sports cars, listened to them, and then tuned the Miata's sound to exactly the pitch he wanted. He rejected more than 100 exhaust notes before settling on what you hear when a Miata accelerates.
It sounds...just right.
Or consider the feel of the gear shifter. A special, stiff rubber guide was used to give the shifter the feel of a rifle bolt slamming a bullet into place. The Miata shift redefines the word "crisp" with its short, sure throw.
The 54-year-old Hirai insisted on front-engine, rear-wheel drive - and we can thank him for that. He insisted that window sills be low enough so driver and passenger could hang an arm over - bless him. He used special lubricant on the tachometer needle so that it bounces with lightning speed, making the acceleration seem faster. And he even fudged the speedometer to the legal limit so that speed seems greater.
Outside, the design is wind-cheating slick (until those pie-plate headlights pop up). Inside, there's an air bag in the steering wheel. The seats support well, the instruments read easily, the brake and accelerator pedal can be worked by the same foot to both brake and bring up engine rpm for downshifts through corners. The car steers precisely where it's pointed. Shifting is flawlessly smooth. The brakes are sure and provide good feedback.
Anyone who loves cars and appreciates the driving expereience will love a Miata.
But not everyone will love it. It is not a car for everyone.
It is a two-seater, with minimum cargo space. It is a tiny car, both inside and out. It has a plastic rear window that will quickly discolor and distort. On the interstate, the engine revved higher than any car tested to date. At 65 mph, the Miata is pushing 3,400 rpm. At any speed, the Miata seems to be going faster. Some cars, such as a Dodge Stealth or BMW M5, seem to be going slower than the true speed. The Miata is the opposite. Around town, 35 mph feels like 45.
In fact, I was not comfortable at interstate speeds in the Miata. It was buffeted by winds and trucks passing. It was noisy. The air conditioner drained power noticeably. The Miata just seemed out of place among minivans and Buicks with Michigan plates and RVs with mountain bikes on the rear.
But on back roads, or around town, with the top down and the sun shining, no car delivers more for the money. It gets great gas mileage, chirps the rear tires going into second gear, zips away faster than much larger cars from stop lights, and will absolutely run them off the road in corners.
If you're in the market for a two-seat sports car and can't quite afford the Miata, take a second mortgage on the house. Do anything, but don't settle for less.
And realize that you can spend a great deal more than a Miata costs and end up owning a lot less automobile.
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Home, James
