This is a looong read, so I apologise in advance. It does read a little strangely too, as its essentially copied and pasted from my project thread on another forum, so just bear with it!
So, in the beginning...
After my 200SX died quite spectacularly, my other half, Leanne, took me to a fairly local garage to look at a UKDM Mazda MX5 1.6i, because shes always wanted one. I laughed at first, then pondered whether she'd found my old spice girls album and was questioning my sexuality (I bought it for the pictures...honest!). We arrived, and there it was, sat in all its poncey gayness in someones garden.
I sat inside, and was disappointed to realise that it was actually damned comfortable. And I quite liked everything, even the way the window was seperated from a little front-quarter window on the door. The salesman, who as you may be able to see from the pic had a fair few MX5s, reeled off all the reaons why I should buy it. I ignored him and started playing with things, then took the roof off. He shouted at me that Id done it wrong because Id left the rear window up, but hey, it wasnt my car.
I smiled. Unfortunately, Leanne had noticed. I gave her the look you give your mum as a child when she catches you masturbating, one of those ''deer in the headlights'' looks. I stopped smiling. The guy took me out for a test drive, and let me drive it back. I wouldnt have admitted it at the time, but good God did I think it was cool. I felt like I was in a '60s Lotus, everything just seemed so retro.
Finally coming to rest, I came out of the closet and handed him £500 of my hard earned, hoping my friends would never find out. Unfortunately, they did. Largely because I turned up to my mates house in it, in retrospect a schoolboy error. After the laughing had died down, we headed to York dragway. There was more laughter. In my friends yard, parked next to his Fiesta, I could hold on to a modicum of pride. At York, surrounded by chavs and Supras, I was ashamed. I parked out of the way.
I got home and started browsing the net. There must be some way I can stop these feminine jibes. I found MX5nutz, and soon my cash started disappearing. To start, I bought my favourite wheels of the time, Rota GT3s, wrapped in parada spec 2 tyres. The wheels themselves were 15x7J with an offset so feminine it made Michael Barrymore look like shaft. However, once fitted, my car was sat incredibly high. The kids would still laugh as I drove past. So I bought some Spax RSX adjustable coilovers, and dropped the ride height.
Rusty goodness, and with one snapped spring too.
After some elbow grease and harsh language:
I also buggered about with the headlight wiring (thats a technical term), and this was how she sat:
The car was now bumpier than hell and tramlined everywhere. So onto google I went, I took some geometry settings from a chap on ClubRoadster, and read up on suspension. Then I messed about with the damping until I found a setting I was happy with.
The kids no longer laughed, but my friends still wouldnt look me in the face when they talked to me. So, I found a Garage Vary front splitter for sale, and bought it. I then got some bonnet spacers.
My friends booked to go on our new-found annual tradition of the Nurburgring. Selfishly, my brother decided to get married around the same time. So I booked a track day at Blyton, and bought a custom roll-bar off a friends MX5 for £30.
So, with no real prior track experience, and with plenty of run off space, I drove like a tit. This lasted 3 corners.
It would appear that tyre pressures and smoothness are important. It would also appear that tyre boundaries are stronger than fibreglass lips. Shit. I believe I saw Mr NickD driving properly too, scaring me quite shitless by drifting near my beached car.
So, I grabbed a few passenger laps with Dave, P5s Phil and Richie, and saw the lines they took, where they applied power. I thought ''balls to it, I can do that''. Amazingly, I could!
I wasnt setting the world on fire, but by the end of the day I felt I was in control of the car, and I had at least lapped a few cars. I got home, and decided to continue my racing career by painting my roof. I bought it cheap so it was buggered.
But I got it sprayed, and the guys from Ripspeed asked me to put the car on their stand atthe Japshow. So I did.
I then treated myself to an Apex'i cat-back exhaust.
Leanne then polished it for me.
Et voila, 15 minutes later and Id got rid of the farting/blowing OEM backbox.
Eventually, the poor offset of my wheels got to me, and I ordered some more masculine ones. Sportmax 002, 15x8J ET0. Front Sportmax, rear Rota:
Although one of the easiest jobs, this became a nightmare due to my ride height. I hadnt adjusted it once in the last 10'000 miles, and boy was it a bastard to move. Plenty of skin-loss and blood later:
Then, the legend that is Leannes dad repaired my Garage Vary lip for me:
Perfick. My friends liked me again, kids quietly uttered that they liked the car, and all was well with the world. I then bought a £3 Mountney steering wheel. I had offered the boss £30 for this, but he wasnt keen, so checked the computer for the proper price. Result.:
The scrubbing of my tyres now meant I had to drive like Cliff Richard everywhere, so I hired an arch roller and set to it:
I then bought a MK1 MR2. We sold it to my friend, who then promptly put in a field less than a day later. Here she was in her glory:
