There was a four page article written by Tom Matano, the designer of the the first generation Miata, which at first seemed promising. But, as it turned out, it was a rumination on the early cars that were owned by his family and his first car. Well, his second car really, because the lead photo of the article was of Mr. Matano as a child behind the wheel of a metal pedal car.

Night Reading

a vroom of one’s own
Barbara Feinman’s column

“The gearshift, sensitive to my touch, responding like an eager lover. I’m strapped to a speeding bullet; I’m not driving–we’ve both been shot from a cannon. Never so fast. Never so sure. There’s pure adrenaline in the fuel tank….”

I wake up with these words humming in my brain. I can’t remember whether it was a passage from a book or whether I’d just dreamed them or if someone had spoken them over the phone. The receiver is off the hook, on my pillow. Whom had I been talking to? I listen for sounds of life. No baby crying. No water running. No radio.

I feel like I’ve just come home after a long trip. I remember sweating in the California desert, but everyone I met had an Irish accent and was drinking warm Gatorade in pubs.

“Hello?” I yell out. I slowly walk to the bathroom. Taped to the medicine chest is a note: TOOK THE PUMPKIN FOR A WALK. BACK SOON. STAY IN BED.

I pick up the remote to channel-surf, but decide against it. On the nightstand, next to the Pepto Bismol, is a novel called No Brakes. The cover sports two hazy film noir-ish photos: one of a woman engaged in something unrecognizable but most assuredly erotic, the other of a car. The blurb says “Narrated by Mary Jo, a middle-aged American serving both as navigator and lover to Ludo–a seductive young lothario who also happens to be her son’s best friend—No Brakes is full of hidden surprises and dangers lurking beneath the surface?’ I remember it was set in Northern Ireland during a three-day car rally, but had no idea what page I was on or what the hidden surprises and dangers were lurking below the surface. I start flipping through it for a random racing or sex scene.

We’re safely strapped in and doing 80, pothole jumping a scary amusement-park ride….

Kind of like my life; we’re safely strapped in doing 20, avoiding potholes, a scary diaper happening in the infant seat….

I spin the wheel and steer into the ditch. Shaking and sobbing, I climb out and throw up.

Hmmm, more parallels. Well, not the ditch part.

Suddenly I remember whom I had been talking to on the phone. My brother had called during one of my fever dreams.

“Hello,” I had gasped, knocking the base of the phone off my nightstand.
“Hey, you sound awful.”
“This stomach flu is killing me.”
“Did you go to the doctor yet?”
“I keep having all these nightmares.”
“Did you GO to the DOCTOR?”
“I’ve lost nine pounds in three days. I had to be rehydrated intravenously.”
“Wow.” He sounded impressed. “When I used to race in the desert I could lose five pounds in 45 minutes….”

He proceeded to recount a long story about car racing in the Mojave, sweating and Gatorade and electrolytes.

I hear the front door.

“Honey?” I yell.
He comes upstairs and stands in the doorway. “You look like you’re feeling better.”
“You know what I’m in the mood for?”
“What?”
“A drive. Let’s go out for a spin.”
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll get the Pumpkin ready.”
He turns to leave, then stops. “Perhaps we could stop by a pub for a spot of warm Gatorade.”

Panicked, I think for a moment the fever hasn’t broken, that I’m still delirious. Then I remember my habit of babbling in my sleep. I hear my husband chuckling as he pads down the stairs.

 

In 1998 they started publishing six issues a year. I don’t remember exactly where in the year they came, but for the purposes here they will show up on the first of the even numbered months.

Got Milk?

By Norman Garrett
Founding Father

Among my favorite words after nine each night are, “Honey, do we have milk for the morning?”

Maybe only a Miata owner can understand, but any excuse for a short road trip is cause for glee in my book. Call it spontaneity in my otherwise predictable world.

Me, the moonlight, my Miata, and a short errand. Time to drive with the top down and the radio off. A little island of serenity at the end of a long, probably hard day, Sort of a half automotive yoga/half runner’s high kind of thing. Me and five speeds, no schedule, no ETA. A good excuse for a senseless drive.

And Candi knows it as well as I do. Maybe more, bless her.

Because the fact is, this drive is much more than senseless. As the cool night air tumbles over the wind-shield and my hair gets tousled, perspective falls back into place after 15 hours of absence. I smell the crisp mid-winter woods in hibernation. The cold air on the back of my shift hand feels tingly. The shift knob vibrates with a harsh-er tone over the cold trans-mission. The exhaust echoes against the naked trees, pinpoint stars dot the black winter sky. Hardly senseless, this trip.

In my small way, I’m out of the loop. I come into the store independent of the usual pressed schedule. Others are clamoring to get their weekly shopping done and get home. I’ve already been home. I’m neither here nor there; off the grid for a few minutes.

I stroll past the magazine rack, take a few minutes or ten to catch up on the rest of the automotive world. A little fix for my automotive habit. On to the dairy case, through the express line, back to the parking lot. I’m the only one getting into to a convertible — out of the responsibility loop again. Sure it’s cold out, but hey, I’ve got a heater…

Going home, mission accomplished„ my brain co automatic but in a good way — like a NI-Cad must feel on full charge. I follow may headlights along some yellow lines across familiar roads, bat peg my apexes and shift points flawlessly. Second, third, fourth, then back down again. Tap the brakes, drift the back end — it’s the sort of driving I never do during the day. Nighttime is the best for this, when you have no time to keep.

For me, an excuse to get out after the kids are down and the world is finally quiet is a coupon for peace of mind, a dose of the best kind of medicine. One hundred cc’s of Miata and everything is all better. I wonder if we need eggs…

 

This was a “special” edition of the Miata Club of America magazine that introduced the second generation Miata to members. I think, but can’t be sure, that news of the remodeled car was already out there before this was published and distributed in late November of 1997. The car went on sale in February 1998 as a 1999 model.

Virtually Informed

By Gary Fischman
Founder & owner of Miata.net

LEAKS IN THE NET
The new Miata has been a topic of conversation, speculation, trepidation, and mediation on the Internet ever since Mazda’s top brass announced there would be “some minor changes” in ’98. Some looked forward to these changes, while others simply prayed that the new car would retain everything that made us rush out to buy the original.

Worldwide Rumors
Most of the early M2 information circulating on the net was learned from Mazda managers who’d been shown a concept video in the fall of ’96. This is when we first learned about the new car’s curved doors and fixed headlights, for example.

Soon after that, the electronic mailboxes at Miata.net – the clearinghouse site for online Miata info – began filling up with letters claiming knowledge about the various features or design decisions being incorporated into the new MX5. Some even came with graphics and introductory text vouching for their authenticity.

These images could invariably be traced to an artist’s conception gleaned from some obscure foreign car magazine, and in every case they turned out to be unfounded. One very popular early image was sent to Miata.net in December ’96 by an anonymous Asia source accompanied by a cock-and-bull story about it having been acquired from a “Mazda insider.” A bit of magnification proved it was a hoax; someone had simply taken an M Speedster photo and electronically added a few new features. Even so, it was enough to pique lots of online interest. That’s part of the Internet’s nature; since anyone can publish, anyone can try fooling you.

Eventually, as Mazda’s concept video was circulated to the company’s various regional offices and was seen by many dealers, more and more information dribbled out. With it came the inevitable worried online exchanges: Will it be an improvement? Will it make our first-generation cars look dated? Will it be another case of a carmaker caving in to its marketing department—after all, who buys a Miata because they need space for two sets of golf clubs?

The Video Gets Out
Mazda’s secret video eventually made its way to a dealership in the south-eastern US that didn’t understand its confidential nature. As a gesture to the local MCA chapter, they showed the video to some club members, and one enthusiast—eager to share the discovery with his equally enthusiastic friends on the net—asked if he could make a copy off the tape. Pointing his camera at the TV, he captured fuzzy, yet easily recognizable, footage of the new MX5!

By morning a few frames from his camera were posted on his personal web page and he had notified Miata.net where the pictures could be found. Just a few hours later, word of the leak had found its way to Mazda headquar-ters in Hiroshima, and Miata.net was immediately asked to hold off publishing the pictures.

The “perp” was also asked to remove them from his site, which he actually did. But information on the net simply can’t be controlled that way. In those few hours, some 300 hits were registered on the spy shots—enough for at least a half-dozen major car mags to find and download them for imme-diate publication. (And we thought we were the only ones who cared!)

The Real Thing
After the Great Video Debacle, it took a bit of time for the online world to regain the trust of Mazda’s PR folks, but that’s the way the informational cookie crumbles now. By the time official photos of the new MX5 were appearing on mainstream magazines’ websites, the leak was older than yesterday’s news. When rumors and real facts both travel at light speed, there’s always something newer to get excited about.

 

One of the sporadic features the Miata Club of America Magazine was a Chapter Corner which highlighted one of the chapter/clubs from around the country. My old club was too small to make the magazine or perhaps all we had to do was to submit one, but never did. This one is about the club that is located around Cleveland, Ohio. They are still active with both a Facebook group and a standalone website.

Chapter Corner

Northcoast Miata Club

Back in June of 1990, about 30 enthusiastic Miata owners gathered in Kathy Lyle’s garage for the first meeting of the Northcoast Miata Club, so named because of our location. The chapter encompasses the northeast corner of Ohio, on the south shore of the Great Lakes in a region fondly known as the “North Coast.” Our logo shows the shoreline of Lake Erie with a Miata driving down a winding road bordered by a checkered racing flag. A static cling of the Northcoast logo is given to each of our club members to display on their car window. We currently have about 150 Miatas sporting the cling and our monthly meetings are now held at our sponsor dealership, The Cascade Auto Group in Cuyahoga Falls.

Almost right from the beginning we’ve struggled with this dilemma: Is the club too social or is the club too technical? Do we spend too much time planning picnics and outings, or is too much emphasis placed on racing and performance? We try to stay balanced.

The social activities are varied and extensive. Our premier event, which has been held annually since 1991, is the Roadkill Rally. This is an all-day activity that teams Miata members to compete for prizes by completing a predetermined list of events captured on film by members of the team within the allotted time and to the specifications of each photo opportunity. In other words, it’s just a crazy good time. We have had as many as 40 Miatas participate in this popular event each year.
Our club boasts 10 members who compete in SCCA racing, including two National Champions. We have several Northcoast members who have taken their Miatas to drivers’ schools at different tracks, including Mid-Ohio and Summit Point. We recently hosted a restricted practice
weekend at nearby Nelson Ledges Road Course, where our experienced SCCA drivers assisted novice drivers on the ins and outs of the track. After that weekend, one club member wrote, “IT WAS THE BEST DAY OF MY ENTIRE LIFE” Not to say that I lead a mundane life, I have my share of excitement just like the next gal….but this was not excitement….THIS WAS ADRENALINE!!!!!*

We have several weekend trips each year, including some repeat events. Northcoast Miatas have become a regular sight at Lake Chautauqua in western New York where we enjoy the Chautauqua Institute and fine dining at a favorite B&B, the William Seward Inn. We have also become regulars at the Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the¬Lake, Ontario. In addition to the theater, we have discovered some excellent wineries in the region. Many bottles of Pillitteri wine have been toted across the border. We consume this fine Canadian wine on “newsletter night,” an evening when several members gather together around editor Beth Kramer’s PC and provide assistance in producing articles for “The Exhaust Notes.”

Our club is steeped in culture. We have attended several theater outings, including interactive theater and a Murder Mystery Weekend. We’ve attended concerts at Blossom Music Center and an opera dinner at a local Italian restaurant. It was there that we discovered the real meaning of the word “Miata.” As quoted by member Jim Simmelink in an article in our newsletter, “The historical truth is that ‘Miata’ is an Italian word that does not translate well into English, but I’ll try. The first part is short for Mama mia! and is always followed by an explanation mark(!). The -ata part is a sigh of mixed emotions of pleasure and anger. All of this explains why the lead singer of a little-known Italian opera shouts out ‘Miata’ during the final scene as his new little roadster drives off center stage and over, a cliff with his mother-in-law still clinging to the wheel.” Our club is an eclectic collection of interesting characters!

The “Northcoast Competition Team” was formed in 1996 by a group of characters who regularly participate in autocrosses in the Cleveland/Akron area. Several members participated in the slalom race in Toronto, and we’ve been invited to Columbus for Solo II racing hosted by the Buckeye Miata Club as well. Our club members have formed friendships with several other chapters. We have joined the Trillium Club on their annual Victoria Day trip to Vermont, and have shared events with the West Penn chapter and the Buckeye Chapter. Several NMC members are active on the Internet and keep us informed about what the Miata network is up to.

Members from our chapter have attended each national event since the first one hosted by the Indy in ’92. In 1995, we hosted a national event —the Rock-n-Roll Rally. We spent nearly two years planning the event, originally scheduled to occur roughly 3 months after the opening of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. However, construction delays postponed the grand opening until Labor Day Weekend, one week after our national Miata Event!! Panic ensued, but through the persistence of the club’s president (at the time Tom Stan, we were able to get a preview tour of the Hall
of Fame. In fact, the Rock Hall staff used our group to pilot traffic flow for the opening weekend crowds. In addition to that, our venue included hot laps at Nelson Ledges, tours of Amish country, a dinner at the historic Crawford Auto Museum and a scenic boat ride on the Cuyahoga River. Oh, yeah, also a very long food line at a drive-in movie!

We’ve held a number of tech sessions covering everything from oil changes to brakes and timing belts. They always attract many members. We met at a Goodyear dealer in Akron where the we were able to watch as one of our members had a computerized four-wheel alignment. We also had a meeting at the Dent Wizard, where one lucky winner had a small dent removed from her silver beauty. Club members have held oil change parties, speaker installation parties; we even had one member who had a party to install his super charger! We’ll use any excuse to party.

And we use any excuse to drive our Miatas. After reading another chapter’s newsletter last year, we decided to try an evening ‘Bug Splat Rally.” First, we taped paper targets to the front of each car (placement determined by the driver), enjoyed a leisurely dinner while waiting for dusk, and then drove through the buggy dark along some of our favorite country roads. After a pleasant drive, we stopped at an ice cream stand to compare targets and see who had the best splat—we had some very interesting bugs!

We frequently engage in mystery tours. These are gatherings where the host designates a meeting place, then picks some curvy, hilly roads for a caravan of Miatas to drive on. Generally, at the end of the line is a favorite restaurant. As time goes by, we have discovered that an ice cream stop is also an important part of each mystery tour. We firmly support that Miata motto (perhaps by the Trillium Chapter?) “We drive to eat, and eat to drive!”

Towards the end of the Ohio convertible season, which always comes too soon, we find a good location for our annual Fall Foliage Tour. We have both one-day and weekend drives, winding through the countryside of Ohio and Pennsylvania appreciating Mother Nature’s color schemes. The finale of each year is a holiday celebration with a Miata gift exchange and officer elections for the following year. Our club is ever-changing, but always ready for a good time. We look forward to many more Miata events, including the Miata Cruise and the 1998 Miata Mountain Madness in the Poconos. Keep an eye out at future events for the fun-loving “Northcoasters”; we’re the “shy” ones.

 

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.