East Coast Mojo's sister?
Photography Credit: David S. Wallens
A common question heard in our house: What time is it?
My wife wears a Garmin smartwatch that probably possesses more computing power than the first lunar landers: Time, date, weather, vital signs and more sit right there on her wrist.
I, on the other hand, favor traditional, old-school automatics. I put an older Tissot PRS 516 back into service as my daily: a deep-navy dial with thick white hands surrounded by a black bezel, all carried by a chunky, stainless-steel case that’s right out of the ’60s.
Its automatic movement is powered by the motions of my arm. Simple and classic. Good enough for generations.
When allowed to sit too long, though, an automatic watch comes to a halt. Where a stopped clock is right twice a day, I might well be wearing a watch that’s keeping pace for a time zone of one. Atomic clock? What’s that?
But I dig my old watches. They have a heft and warmth that can’t be duplicated by a circuit board. Randy, my guitar teacher, calls it mojo–that cool factor that can’t be described. Probably explains my love for older guitars, tube amps and things more analog in nature. I figure if they’ve made it this long, they’ve been sorted well enough to remain in use.
Yesterday morning–oddly on time–I was up early for the 15-minute drive to Flis Performance, the shop that builds the cars for the MX-5 Cup series. The occasion was part open house, part raffle drawing for Lemons of Love; someone won an MX-5 Cup car and simultaneously helped cancer patients.
We go back decades with the Flis family, and they had invited the local Miata clubs to this morning get-together. My friend Kevin, who co-founded the Orlando Roadsters club, passed along the RSVP. For Kevin, I’d do anything–even if that means getting up early on a weekend.
There’s something about a quiet morning and top-down drive in a Miata. No regen braking, no autopilot, no surround cameras. Also no fob, no keyless entry, no push-button start. The car doesn’t interface with my phone. The Miata presents a useable take on the traditional, analog sports car–and I love it.
Three of us represented the Orlando club. Another area Miata club came in droves and packed the street out in front of the shop.
One thing I have learned about Miata events: I might be the oldest guy there or the youngest. You just never know.
At Kevin’s Orlando events, we represent the old guard. We’re the crew that remembers life before the Miata even existed–back when Radwood wasn’t cosplay. That’s just how we rolled back then: Vans sneakers, punk band T-shirts, rolled-up copy of Thrasher mag somewhere.
The Miata, likewise, has transcended the generations. A new, younger group has embraced that ’90s throwback roadster and made it their own–and on the last Monday of the month, they flock to Kevin’s events at Orlando’s Ace Cafe.
These aren’t race cars built to fit into a rulebook. Instead, these enthusiasts are making it up as they go along and presenting a fresh take on a familiar machine: low and loud, mixed together with a new kind of mojo.
Elements come from the worlds of drift, stance, road racing, retro cool and what can maybe just be called the traditional sport compact scene–back when a Jackson Racing supercharger was a big deal. Primered Miatas sit next to full wraps and resprays in non-original colors. Wheels range from mismatched steelies to Volks to custom three-piece models. Some cars would look at home at an SCCA event; others could fit in at Tokyo’s infamous Daikoku Futo, home to the region’s coolest unofficial car meet.
More ingredients of the Orlando scene: smiles, camaraderie and, let’s be honest, people who don’t look like me. It’s a diverse mix of ages, skin tones and genders. I love it as I find the experience rejuvenating and uplifting.
As far as yesterday, well, let’s just say Flis Performance welcomed a varied crowd, from hardcore racers running sticky rubber to those tooling around on all-seasons. One owner had done up their Miata to more or less resemble a ’58 Corvette. I wasn’t the token old guy.
Fortunately, though, there’s no wrong way to enjoy the Miata–or this hobby. Whether you favor tattered Vans or crisp white New Balances, there’s space for you at the table.
East Coast Mojo's sister?
Well, I went to Lowe's this morning for some shoe glue in my Miata, with an Invicta automatic on my wrist, a Beach Boys CD in the player. I'm older than you by a chunk (69) and when I go to our local MiMiata meetings I give up a decade or more to the older members present. It's a universal age car.
Edit: ....and I was wearing an old pair of K-Swiss leather runners. Does that make me cool or uncool?
In reply to DeadSkunk (Warren) :
K-Swiss? That's a name I haven't heard of in a long time.
Interestingly enough I'm looking at a friend's 94 Miata, it has a lot of goodies but he's well known to thrash his cars. I have two friends (one that knows him, and one that doesn't) that both recommend I don't do it, but against their best intentions I really want to.
Miata's are made to be thrashed..!!
DeadSkunk (Warren) said:It's a universal age car.
Our demographics back that up. Our customers are split surprisingly evenly across age ranges, other than the relative lack of NDs in the youngest cohort simply due to the value of the car.
Also - 95% male :) That's not an estimate. So much for it being a chick car.
In reply to Keith Tanner :
I belong to the MiMiata club here in Michigan and what I find a little surprising is how many couples in the club own two, or more Miatas. In one case the lady drives her car to the hair and nail salon every other week and that's it. I've never even seen her car, just the husband's, and hers (a 1999) cracked 10,000 miles last year.
Also, FWIW, my brother has a Miata, and our parents have a Miata.
I fear that I may be a Miata owner again in a month or two.
In reply to Woody (Forum Supportum) :
Do it.
In reply to David S. Wallens :
Now he has to or he can't show his cowboy face around here again.
Displaying 1-10 of 12 commentsView all comments on the GRM forums
You'll need to log in to post.
