The Four Truths Of Youth

– Barbara Beach

Having just returned from Chicago attending our daughters’ high school graduation and a friend’s 5Oth birthday party, I found myself in an introspective moment. Exhausted after flying into San Diego from Chicago via Minneapolis-St. Paul, I was elated at the prospect of climbing into my 1990 Miata for the 30-mile coastal ride back home. Even after a full decade, I never tire at the prospect of a topless-sun-in-my-face-wind-in-my-hair ride to anywhere. While so many things in my life have changed. (remember, I am feeling reflective and introspective at this moment), the one thing that has remained the same is the car that set the stage for the last decade of my life. Six Miatas, two RX7’s and eleven years later I have a husband of 10 years, 5 adult children, none of whom were adults when I purchased my first MX5, one is starting college, and another is finishing high school. The child of 9 who was known to steal my RX-7 is now 21, and doing autocross. The child of 11 who would wear pillow case veils on her head has now donned the real thing as a June 2000 bride. As for the older kids…well we now have 4 grandchildren and a baby of our own…Miata Magazine. It seems as though our Miatas and Miata friends are one of the few elements that have remained constant.

As I mused over the activities of my Chicago trip, especially the 50th birthday celebration, I reflected upon the many friends that attended this party. 1 thought to myself, (again, I am having an introspective moment) as I’m driving north on the coast highway. I ask myself the question: If I been walking down the street today, and encountered anyone of the folks who were my close friends 25 years ago, would I have recognized any of them? I concluded, all of them with the exception of myself had aged excessively. As a group they looked middle aged, bald, financially comfortable, and generally 50 plus. The parking area was filled with Lexus coupes, Mercedes SUV’s, and the occasional Ford Taurus. Once again, I pondered upon the phenomena of having maintained my own youthful appearance and perpetual good nature while everyone else at the party had so ungracefully aged, to put it politely. I concluded that it must have had something to do with my love of sports cars, and my intimate relationship with my Miatas.

I have clearly come to recognize over the course of time, that there are four primary truths associated with youth:

1. Youth is wasted on the young……but, we never realize it until it’s too late. Try to explain that to a twenty year old.

2. Youth is relative depending upon your age…..My Miata driving Mom and infamous back issue lady Gwen is almost 80 and thinks I am still an adolescent.

3. God is kind to us by not allowing us to see ourselves as we may appear to others when we attend long time reunions.

4. Youth is closely correlated to fun……sports cars are made for fun, and the Miata is the embodiment of freedom and joy that every modern sports car has tried to emulate.

Pulling into my driveway, astounded that I had already arrived, I found my parking spot in-between our three other Miatas and reflected for just a moment more. I happily walked into my house feeling young again and again.

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This issue marks the beginning of the end for the Miata Club of America and the Miata Magazine itself. I don’t know for sure, but I think that the founder of the Club, Norm Garrett, and the Club President, Vince Tidwell, who had been publishing the magazine at the Club headquarters in Georgia for the first ten years wanted a break from doing the magazine to focus on growing the Club, so when Barbara Beach and Alan Partridge wanted to start doing the magazine, they jumped at the chance. But almost instantly they came to regret the direction the California duo started to take. Barb and Alan also wanted to start another style Miata magazine that had nothing to do with the Miata Club of America. Anyway, the magazine shoulders on for another three years before it all collapses like house of cards.

A Work In Progress

– Alan Paradise

Imagine you have been asked to construct a sports car. You are handed a few basic guidelines, some of which have been severely and consistently criticized. Nevertheless, you accept the task because you have done this same job many times. More importantly, you accept the assignment because you love to build cars.

The first thing you need to accomplish is a set of designs or blueprints. Drawing upon your past experiences, you let prior success be your guide. Slowly, you begin to visualize the end result of your project. Consulting with others who may want to own your new automotive creation, you get a better sense of what features and materials you will integrate into this project.

Feeling confident, you step into your work area to begin. You have equipped yourself with the necessary tools to get the job done. There you are, ready to create. In front of you is an empty concrete slab. You have no drivetrain, no chassis, no body panels, and no interior. In other words, other than a few bits and pieces, you’re starting from ground zero. Oh yes, you have 60-days to make the entire vehicle roadworthy and ready for public viewing.

You now have a deadline to meet. As you get into the job, the elbows start raging, hair starts flying, and the adrenal gland goes into overdrive. It doesn’t take long to realize you’re going to need some assistance to meet the approaching deadline. A few phone calls enlist the helping hands of a few friends. They arrive with vital components for the project. However, the bulk of the construction rests squarely on your shoulders. Working day and night, burning the candle at ends you didn’t know existed, you start to show evidence of progress. Giving a few people a sneak peek, you are given the “thumbs up” and furiously continue.

Deadline day is quickly approaching. Shifting into high gear, your pace quickens. Soon you must open the garage door and roll the car into the sunlight. Unlike a prototype, such as the cars secured behind velvet ropes at the autoshows, panting drivers leap into your vehicle, turn the key, jack up the revs, and dump the clutch. After a quick test drive, some jump all over you because the fit and finish is not perfect, or a weld has not been completely ground down to a precisely smooth surface. Others comment on the spirit of construction and congratulate you on the thought process employed in bringing together a wide variety of components. Either way, you are thankful for the kind words and absorb the criticism, even when some bordered on abuse.

This is what it is like to create a publication such as Miata Magazine. The wonders of cyberspace allowed some readers to respond quickly to the first issue of the year. Others, seeing a more grounded picture, choose to respond with greater support.

However, unlike a prototype or first edition car, you can’t just pull a magazine back into the barn to refine it. No sir, you have to get it out there and start the next edition.

When Barbara Beach and Phil Wolfson asked me to consider taking the helm of Miata Magazine, I was more than prepared to help develop the publication into a newsstand magazine.

I am also a Miata owner and enthusiast. In 1989, I was lucky enough to be one of the first automotive journalists to drive and report on the Miata. I, like you, was hooked from the first time my hands touched the steering wheel. I am now on my third Miata.

At the time of my appointment, one detail was made clear; not to expect any existing files or archives from the past. No electronic layouts, no past editorials, no photos and no correspondence. I was starting from ground zero.

Thankfully, a handful of good people stepped up to offer support in the form of materials. Lyn Vogel, Rob Ebersol, and Austin Dash submitted great material. Vince and Norm, did their parts as did Barb who added her profound enlightenment of Miataland.

For those who have taken the time to send words of support and encouragement, I thank you. To the ones who have roasted the past issue, defying human nature, I thank you for your comments and suggestions. To those who have chosen to be abusive, I’ll say a prayer for you as I try and maintain a Christian outlook on life.

As I reviewed the comments from the past issue, a message from a Sunday sermon kept ringing in my ears. “Anything that will have a lasting effect cannot be governed or dictated by the fickleness of the masses. Rather, everything that has a lasting effect is achieved by the faithfulness of the few.”

As you read and enjoy this issue, celebrate being one of the few and keep the faith.

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