I restarted this 25 Years Ago of the Miata Magazine on the blog when we moved to Oregon, but I have copies of what I did for the Masters Miata Club’s website, there are a dozen or so of them, that ran from December 2015 to September 2019. Maybe when I’m bored I’ll add them on the blog here. They’ll be backdated to when I first published them, so you’ll have to hunt for them.

Good Bones

By Norman Garrett III
Founder Miata Club of America
Concept Engineer Miata Project

I’ve seen and driven a lot of modified Miatas over the past eight years. Just about everything you can do to one of these cars has come under my purview. That’s why I was so surprised last week when I fell in love with the type of Miata I hadn’t spent time with since ’89: a bone stock Miata.

Vince had left his ’90 B package over at my garage for two weeks last month and I took advantage of having an extra car around. Vince is one of those owners (like many of you) who keep his cars immaculate. Back when we were college room-mates, Vince’s side of the room was identifiable as the one with the pencils in their pocket protectors, papers neatly stacked, calculator charged and in its case. I was known as the idea guy, which meant if you needed last week’s homework I would have no idea where it was. If Vince ran a tight ship, I was the one continually building new boats.

We bought our Miatas together back in September of ’89. My blue base model and his red B left Hiroshima the same day, crossed over on the same boat, rode on the same truck, and were sitting at the same dealership in Atlanta waiting for us to bring two checks over. Mazda had let us order two cars and “given” them to us at list price – a great deal during a time when dealers were “adjusting” prices somewhat. Vince and I picked up the cars and drove over to our favorite restaurant, parked them squarely in front and asked for a window booth. Little was digested as we stared out at these two special cars for an entire evening.

It wasn’t long before my tinkering began. It started with the shift knob. Then the steering wheel. The habit spread to the wheels. Then on to the suspension. And over to the audio. Leather seat covers came aboard. The engine room did not escape—I tried everything I could find on that innocent little 1.6, even to go so far as putting a pair of MGB carburetors on the poor thing (it loved them). My little friend never complained. I never missed an oil change or other vital maintenance procedure, but most of my under-hood time was spent changing whatever I could find, mostly for the sake of change.

Like some car with multiple personalities, each week brought a new transformation as we tried out the latest product on my little blue car. Some accessories got to stay on; most were taken off a week later, not being in the essence of my “true sports car” paradigm. Each time the UPS truck would arrive, my car would cringe, knowing that some new part had arrived to be tried out that day.

Vince’s car, in the meantime, was enjoying a quiet existence in a heated, well lit garage, being washed and vacuumed weekly, waxed quarterly. Vince never revved his engine until warm, always kept the hard top on during inclement weather, and rotated his tires regularly. Vince had gone through the normal repair items in 59,000 miles: timing belt, brake pads twice, clutch, ac compressor, shocks and kept his car tight as a drum.

My car has never worn out a set of tires, shocks, or brake pads – these items were changed at whim long before their useful life was reached. After seven years of tuning, I’ve just about gotten my car right where I like it. It is fast as a scalded cat, corners like a race car, looks like a million dollars, and fits me like a glove.

This is why I found Vince’s car so surprising. It was a dream of its own to drive. With new shocks and tires and a fresh wax job, his car drives like the day it was new. And I had forgotten how pleasant and exciting a stock Miata can be. The ride is smooth and quiet. The engine pulls strongly to redline. Throwing the car into a corner rewards you with tremendous grip and gleeful G forces. And you don’t have to exceed the speed limit to enjoy the edges of the performance envelope. Very entertaining.

I had borrowed a friend’s BMW Z3 for a road trip recently and was impressed with how good it was on the highway—its civility uncovered just how far I had taken my personal Miata toward the edge of the comfort zone. Where my car feels too much like a race car for some people, the BMW felt too much like a sedan. Vince’s car landed right in the middle and proved to be the best compromise: tight enough to be rewarding in the twisties, soft enough not to rattle your kidneys on the highway.

I guess Mazda hit it right on the head back in ’89. A sports car that doesn’t require excuses, a competent handler that can still take a long drive to nowhere. A car that can show its face at an autocross or an interstate with the same aplomb. And for us tinkerers in the crowd, a great starting point to make our own dream car a reality. Even if we don’t always improve what Mazda gave us in the first place.