My Romance with Sports Cars

Like many other folks, I’ve been in love with cars ever since I can remember, most specifically Sports Cars. My first love was a silver gray Corvette Sting Ray with red leather interior. I fell for that one when I was in high school, and whenever I saw it drive by, my heart missed a beat. I liked it so much, in fact, that I bought the Sting Ray model car kit (and I’m a girl). Then, shortly before graduating from high school, one of my schoolmates’ fathers bought a brand-new white 1965 Mustang coupe. I never got close enough to see the interior, but it was a honey.

When I went away to college at the University of Oregon in Eugene, I had to pass by the Jaguar dealership whenever I walked downtown from campus. That’s when I discovered the XKE, one of the most beautiful cars ever designed—and I’m not the only one to have that opinion. Once, I walked over to admire a silver gray one close up, and on an impulse I checked to see if the door was unlocked. To my complete amazement, it was, and before I knew what I was doing, I had gotten in and was sitting in the driver’s seat. I think Heaven must have dove gray glove leather seats and a solid wood steering wheel. I was high for at least a week! Through the years I’ve admired many other Sports Cars, but those three were the ones that began my addiction—three of the finest cars ever made. Very high on my list of great cars are the Porsche 911 Carrera and the Boxster, The BMW Z4, the MG, Triumph, Alfa Romeo, and all the Mercedes two-seaters. The car of my dreams, however, (and my current ride) is the Mazda MX-5 Miata, a car which single-handedly resurrected the two-seater convertible in a format reminiscent of the classic British MG—only in a better designed and more mechanically dependable format.

But what is a “Sports Car?” Nowadays people use the term quite loosely. To quote Eric Edwards’ article “Sports Cars: The Definition of Fun” on page 20 of Forever MX-5 Magazine (Issue 2), “The classic definition is that a Sports Car is a lightweight, 2-seat, no fixed roof, rear-wheel drive automobile designed for sporting driving or racing. If it has a fixed roof, it’s a Grand Touring or GT. There can be GT 2+2s, if they have a rear seat. Not strictly Sports Cars, but generally derived from them and closely connected in spirit. And as you can see, these terms primarily describe configuration, rather than performance. The definition assumes that we are talking about cars that have some performance, not big lead-sleds.” Eric goes on to say that people outside the community have been blurring the definition of “Sports Car” for years now, so that the term is nearly meaningless. Nowadays the term refers to nearly any car that can be driven in a spirited manner. According to Eric: “I have heard it applied to Muscle cars, All-Wheel Drive sedans, front wheel drive coupes and even full-size pickup trucks. You’ll suffer a bit of abuse if you tell someone that their car is not a ‘Sports Car.’ No matter what you say, they usually end with, ‘Well, it’s a Sports Car to me.’”

I have to confess that, like many others, I’m guilty of blurring this distinction a bit, referring to just about any small car with a bit of zip to it as at least “sporty,” if not a Sports Car. Aficionados insist that a Sports Car must have performance capability. It must be able to go fast and handle well. Nowadays many cars are very well designed, and many of them are really fun to drive, but they are not necessarily “Sports Cars.” I remember a TV ad that Mazda ran a year or so ago: The scene opens with a small group of hikers standing next to a twisty piece of pavement cutting through the woods, and we can hear a car approaching, because the driver is noisily revving the engine and down-shifting through the curves. One of the young men looks at the others and says something like, “What’s coming?” One of his companions nods knowingly and replies, “Sports Car!” He listens intently and, based on what he hears, tells the group what kind of equipment the approaching “Sports Car” has on board. The group waits expectantly for this impressive machine to round the bend, while the driving noise gets louder and louder, when suddenly a little red Mazda 3, or some such car, rounds the corner. Everyone is dumbfounded, staring as it quickly rolls past and disappears from sight. As you may imagine, the young man who said it was a Sports Car is now taking some ribbing from his friends, but what Mazda is saying is that it’s not so much the looks that makes a Sports Car, it’s what’s under the hood and how it drives. They made their point, but I have to say, “Well, yes and no.” I have to agree with Eric Edwards that some sporty vehicles just are not Sports Cars, no matter how you view them or how they drive—and they never will be. That does NOT mean they are bad cars, nor does it have any bearing on how fun they are to drive through a twisty set of curves.

Having a Sports Car is ALL about fun to drive. Car and Driver Magazine once again placed the 2008 MX-5 Miata in their Top Ten Cars in the “most fun to drive” category—a distinction this little car wears proudly. Mark Stevens (mrkstvns)—who writes reviews and advice on hotels and restaurants and this review of the MX-5 Miata at http://www.epinions.com/content_286982180484—calls the Miata “a glorious expression of pure driving hedonism” and says driving one is “the most fun you can have with your pants still on.” Being one of the most fortunate people on the planet to own one myself, I can only echo his sentiments.

I had wanted to own a Miata since they first rolled off the production line, but back then it was totally out of the question. I was smack dab in the middle of my equestrian wanna-be period, and every spare nickel (even some of the committed ones) went into the horse project. There was no money for a car! I was too busy paying for another new broodmare, hay, and riding lessons twice a week. If I had any spare change, it went into new riding breeches or turn-out rugs (I typically had to buy each horse a new one every year, because they were trashed by the end of the winter). The Miata had to wait until it worked its way higher up on my list. In those days cars were a means of getting from one place to another or for transporting feed. What a come down.

As the years went by though, I noticed what other people were driving—the ones who had the luxury of owning powerful cars that were beautiful and not just utilitarian. I’d sigh over the Porsche 911 or the Corvette that just whizzed past my old Buick Electra, and wish things were different—but they weren’t. The Buick was a V-8, but that’s the only nice thing I could ever say about it, since it was painted that rotten gold color that never looked good and had a peeling vinyl roof. I always felt awful when driving it, and I would actually slump down and try to hide behind its big plastic steering wheel so no one could see me. I hated that car. Eventually, however (thanks to Sam), sanity returned to our household and the horses no longer ruled. We began to have extra money again. We even began owning better cars, though I went through several “interesting” Ford Pinto station wagons. One of my friends once commented that I had to be a really good driver to be able to drive them. Nice, huh?

I had been driving a cute little red Geo Storm for a couple of years, when it suddenly blew a head gasket coming up the long hill from the Renton-Maple Valley Road and abruptly died on me. I was crushed, because I didn’t have any money saved to replace it—we had always paid cash for our cars (part of why we drove beaters). I was wondering out loud to my husband Sam what to do, when he said, “Why don’t you just buy what you really want?—A Miata.”

What a concept! Just buy what I want? That would mean a car loan, something we had never done, and even though we had good credit, I had never considered having a car payment before. I realized that I could afford it, and better yet, I could get a loan through my credit union. They had just mailed me a flyer promoting their car loans a few days before, which I had automatically tossed in the recycle bin, so I gave them a call, started the loan process and got pre-qualified. Then I got on the Internet and made a list of all the Miatas for sale within 300 miles of my house. I narrowed that list down according to what I wanted in a car: year, engine, transmission, color, etc. I wrote E-mails and called prospective sellers, and then I sent Sam out to look at the ones I had finally selected. Out of 11 cars whose owners I contacted, five responded right away, and I made appointments with them. He was able to look at only three of them and took me to see two of those the following day. Of those two, it was obvious, even to Sam, which one was my car. It was as sweet and trouble-free a process as you could possibly hope for, and when I climbed in behind the wheel to drive it home, I slipped one of my CDs into the player. The very first song was "Hello, I Love You" by the Doors.

One disappointment was that the car did not have air conditioning, and that was promptly remedied. People think you do not need it in a convertible, but trust me, when you’re driving a black car through the Central Washington desert with the top down (or even up) in the summertime, you NEED air conditioning. I also bought a hard top (I live in Western Washington! Hello!). In the winter rainy season, you need one, in spite of the fact that the Miata has an excellent heater. People have asked me if I looked under the hood to check out the engine before I bought it. No, that was Sam’s job. As far as I knew, there was a team of squirrels under there, so why would I look? Aside from the air conditioning, though, the car was all I had hoped for and more. You can buy a used Miata and not worry too much, because people who own them are known to baby their cars, unlike many other Sports Cars which often are driven to death. You usually get good insurance rates, too, because many Miatas are owned by older women like me, who have excellent driving records.

In the three years since buying the car, I’ve personalized it quite a bit. I had a vision for this car, and I dare say that neither of its previous owners would recognize it now. It has a personal license plate: SABLWLF, named for a black wolf in a dream I once had. I added a rosewood steering wheel, a Zebrawood dash kit, Momo Zebrano shift knob, and rosewood brake handle; there are tasteful chrome touches also added to the interior, along with Roadster billet pedals and custom floor mats. The chrome looks great since it’s a black car with a black vinyl top and black leather interior. Last year I had a new vinyl soft top installed that has a glass rear window with a defroster. This year Sam came on board with some of what needed done, too, since I’m not mechanical (if it involves more than changing the oil or a tire, I’m lost), and now it has roll bars (real ones, not style bars), a spoiler, new intake and exhaust systems, a new header, new shocks, and a generally beefed-up suspension. It has brand new 17-inch Momo wheels and low profile headlights. Still to come are fiberglass Racing Beat body parts: new nose, rear bumper, and side skirts. Those are waiting in the garage to be installed. We are enrolled in the Evolution performance driving school in August and plan to do track days and autocross next year.

No, SABLWLF is not a puppy dog any more—it’s well on the way to being The Big Bad Wolf! And, you may ask, am I having fun? Oh most emphatically yes, I am!