Kids today love those damn listicles. For you old people out there–the kind who walk into a place to ask for directions, then argue with the locals that they can’t possibly be right–a listicle is like an article but in list form. It combines our modern obsession with short-attention-span, soundbite media with our natural proclivity to place things in order. It’s win-win.
I had a couple of subjects I wanted to talk about and couldn’t come up with a single, overarching theme. Thus, I present to you this listicle. It’s a mix of the top cars I’ve never owned but always wanted to and the most embarrassing things I’ve done in the shop despite knowing better. Maybe you’ll learn something from one or the other.
It’s true. I’ve never actually owned a Mazda Miata. Yes, I was the project manager for our 1994 R Package Miata some two decades ago–even won a trophy at Solo Nationals driving it. But my name has never been on a Miata title.
My wife has expressed interest in having a Miata, but she always mentions that she’d like it to be an automatic, and I think I’d rather have a wagon train of bare-knuckle-boxing carnies parked in my yard than an automatic Miata, so that’s not gonna happen.
Just this past weekend I learned that all 2×4s purporting to be 8 feet long are not, in fact, 8 feet long. I learned this when I measured from the wrong end and cut a few. I needed 90-inch pieces, so I assumed cutting 6 inches off each 96-inch piece would get me where I needed to go. I now have a duck house with a roof that slopes at two different angles. The ducks don’t seem to care, but I learned a valuable lesson about trying to save time by measuring from the wrong end.
Probably the closest I came to owning one was dating a girl in high school who drove a Lancia Beta. That car made a lasting impression with the cool noises it made, its fun demeanor, its quirkiness and its relative rarity. Sadly, many of the things that make Italian cars cool also make them stupid, stupid choices given any rational consideration–just as lots of stuff made perfect sense in high school, but can no longer be justified. Hell, parachute pants made perfect sense in high school.
In the cold, calculating light of reasonable adulthood, maybe a Fiata scratches two items off this list.
I have, on more than one occasion, welded while wearing Crocs. I’m not sure what the most embarrassing part of that admission is. All I know is that if Crocs decided to make a nice welding clog someday, I could tell them where to get a celebrity endorser cheap.
Every time I see a mid-’90s Toyota pickup, no matter how ratty, I get those wistful “I need to get home and check Autotrader” feelings. There’s something about the combination of utility, ubiquity and indestructibility that really draws me to them–and to pickups in general. Pickups are basically cargo shorts you can drive around in. Pickups are a giant man-purse with wheels and an engine. Pickups are a portable hole into which you can throw all your dreams and all your hopes and take them with you on an adventure.
(JG owns one now)
I’ll just leave that one there, and someday you can ask me why the thumbprint on my left hand is not the same as it was a few years ago.
I am an utter sucker for 1980s and ’90s tube-frame GT machinery. Impossibly bulged fiberglass bodies. V8s that sound like they’re going to swallow you whole and spit you out on the other side of a black hole. And rudimentary, utilitarian construction that’s just a way to support four wheels, an engine and a driver and shuttle them around a race track as fast as possible.
Mine’s got to be something weird, like a Buick Somerset or Olds Cutlass or something. Anyone can make a Mustang or Camaro look fast, but who knew that a Mercury Cougar could look like the gnarliest thing on the track if you threw enough flare and tire at it?
You know what looks exactly the same as room-temperature steel? Steel that’s 700 degrees.
Not to be callus or anything, but I just want to experience the freedom of zero expectations. Everything I’ve ever owned–even the stuff that was true crap (cough Mitsubishi Mirage Turbo cough)–I’ve cared about at least inasmuch as I wanted to preserve it enough to get some value back out of it at some point.
But I think it would be remarkably liberating to have a car I’m willing to walk away from at some point with no guilt. Flat tire? Leave it at the side of the road. Bad fuel pump? Roll it into a ravine full of mutants. Needs ball joints? Trebuchet.
Damn you, self-tapping screws. Damn you to hell forever.
I actually enjoyed the Automatic NC Miata I rented.
It blipped the throttle on downshifts, had 6-speeds like the manual and I could cruise along without issue on the highways and brake stand it a bit off the lines when I wanted to make the merge.
I suspect the ND would be much the same, just more.
JG Pasterjak said:
3. An Italian Car: Sadly, many of the things that make Italian cars cool also make them stupid, stupid choices given any rational consideration.8. Looks Can Be Deceiving: You know what looks exactly the same as room-temperature steel? Steel that’s 700 degrees.
3. Wistful Duke is looking at Giulia Tis to replace the aging 2004 TSX in a few years. Adult Duke is happy that we have 2 or 3 years to see just how bad an idea that would be before Wistful Duke whips out the checkbook.
8. High school chemistry teacher successfully beat that lesson into my head, except with lab glassware rather than miscellaneous steel stock.
Stefan said:I actually enjoyed the Automatic NC Miata I rented.
C/D or R&T, I forget which, came right out in print and said that the automatic NC was every bit as much fun to drive as the manual version, for all non-competition driving.
9. A Car I Don’t Really Care About: This is a wonderful, liberating thing! About 10 years ago, I had a 1986 200SX coupe. It was bone stock, ran well, near mint interior, absolutely 100% worn out shocks and the air condition worked. Bought it for $600 and drove it (often very sideways) for a full year without more then an oil changes every now and then. It drifted really well on a big gravel parking lot close to my house (and later, when the tires were bald, it drifted pretty much everywhere). I would let friends borrow it if they needed and I never washed it. I finally gave it to a friend who were in some financial trouble and she drove it from NC to Ohio without a glitch.
Best car I ever had - never gave a E36 M3 about it.
2x4's are actually 1.5 by 3.5" as measured. Like you, I learned that too late. :P
9. A Car I Don’t Really Care About: Dude.... this is the most liberating thing ever. Buy an old Toyota pickup... change oil some time.. maybe.
2x4s come in two different lengths, the 8 foot ones that are 96" long and the 8 foot ones that are just short enough to fit between the headers to create an 8' 0.5" finished wall. Guess how I figured that out.
Don't know why, but I've never cared for tube frame race cars. May have something to do with working on them I suppose. Cutting off and replacing a front clip, not a good time. Hanging new body panels, also not great fun. Sure they're fast, but if you ever see one at auction 30 years later, it would be almost impossible to know if you're buying the real thing. They fact they let something like a tube frame RX8 race against a production 911 still bothers me somewhat, not that I hold things in or anything. 
And everyone needs at least one Italian car in their lifetime, just do it! Years ago I had 8 at one time, a mixture of Alfas and Fiats. My favorite was a '61 Fiat 600D. You need to do a 600 based Abarth project car for Classic!
8. Looks Can Be Deceiving: You know what looks exactly the same as room-temperature steel? Steel that’s 700 degrees.
I was at a prospects location once where their business was producing aluminum billets. The president of the company went out of his way to warn me not to touch anything in the plant as hot aluminum looks the same as cold. I'm sure I had that "well duh" face on when he told me that (I worked in aerospace for a decade) but it now occurs to me that many sales droids may not know that.
9. A Car I Don’t Really Care About: Not to be callus or anything, but I just want to experience the freedom of zero expectations. Everything I’ve ever owned–even the stuff that was true crap (cough Mitsubishi Mirage Turbo cough)–I’ve cared about at least inasmuch as I wanted to preserve it enough to get some value back out of it at some point.
But I think it would be remarkably liberating to have a car I’m willing to walk away from at some point with no guilt. Flat tire? Leave it at the side of the road. Bad fuel pump? Roll it into a ravine full of mutants. Needs ball joints? Trebuchet.
I have this problem too. I bought a "winter beater" and now I insist on fixing every stupid little rattle or broken fastener on the thing despite stating all I care about is that it doesn't kill me. Mechanical empathy or I'm too cheap to just let a vehicle just go to scrap when some minor work would net me at least some return on the purchase. One of the two.
"Pickups are a portable hole into which you can throw all your dreams and all your hopes and take them with you on an adventure."
I'm now using this as my signature on an overlanding forum.
In reply to JG Pasterjak :
I love the tube frame stuff too! My favorite is Group 44’s Jaguar. The sound of that V12 is magic.
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