Meet Ken, The Ultimate Manly Car

I am an extremely manly man. I have large amounts of chest hair which I oil to make shiny. I proudly display this with my low-bottoned shirts and tastful, golden medallions. I have a thick mustache, a lantern jaw of justice, and my testosterone levels are so high bystanders sometimes enter a second puberty just from smelling me. Women must take care in my presence, due to the chance of non-contact pregnancy. Below is a picture of myself. Look on at your own risk. 

Unfortunately, when you are as extremely masculine as I am, it puts a strain on relationships. My girlfriend often remarks that it's difficult to breath in my presence, the manliness is so overwhelming. My coworkers have to brace themselves with intense meditation before the workdays begin, and my friends have complained on numerous occasions about the whole second, or third, or fourth puberties my manly musk has put them through. While I am completely immune to anything so girly as sentimentality, my proud, brave, and enterprising psychology lead me to realize I needed to do something lest I drive everyone away.  

As such, I searched far and wide for a project car that might temper the radiant brilliance of my masculine perfection. Something that might allow in some slight softness, some tiny bit of estrogen, a bit of ... hairdresser.

And so I bought a Miata. It's a 98, which is a model year that doesn't exist in the US, but is the first batch of NBs in Japan. It also has a six speed, which I guess didn't come out in NA until 2000, so that's cool. No LSD, though. Doing burnouts with two wheels might be considered overly masculine, and I don't want my girlfriend struggling to breath due to both manliness and tire smoke at the same time. It's got 146,000 kilometers (88k ish miles) on the clock, some tacky interior mods that I'll be removing, some tacky interior mods I won't be removing, Tein adjustable coilovers (no idea the specific type or spring rates), the fartiest fart cannon that ever farted, a recent respray, a decent-ish soft top, a bit of a grind going into third gear, what I suspect is a lightened flywheel, and stretched 185/55/15 tires on some admitedly pretty sick looking rims. 

I am already in love for all the reasons that Miata people always fall in love with Miatas. The steering is lovely. The gear change is wonderful (although doing it with my left hand is still weird). The entire car just feels happy and playful. Much happier and more playful than is manly, strictly speaking. 

In order to sort out these confusing feelings, I set out to Tsunoshima, an island near my home. It was rumoured to be very beautiful, and to have lots of wildlife, and there's nothing I like more, in my manliness, than to challenge wildlife to mano a mano contests of strength. 

It was certainly beautiful, and I thoroughly enjoyed the twisting roads along the way. Unfortunately the only wildlife I saw up close was a hawk, and that avian coward wouldn't wrestle me. 

Frustrated by the bird's craven refusal to engage in combat, I found a 10 meter or so length of bamboo on the beach, decided the beach needed a "flagpole" and thus wrestled the damn thing half a mile down the beach until I could find a natural holdfast strong enough to hold 80 lbs of bamboo erect in 60 km/hr gusts. 

Flagpole planted masculinely on the beach, I returned to the Mazda, found an abandoned lot very far from anyone who could conceivably take offense, did some very manly and completely necessary donuts, and spent the rest of the evening putzing around, walking along various cliffsides and tidal pools, and taking in the sounds and smells of the Sea of Japan. 

Sadly, I still didn't know where this whole experience put me on the scale of manliness. My girlfriend, a huge fan of the Barbie movie, suggested I name the car Ken because it "has a lot of Kenergy." I felt that was appropriate. Kenergy is manly. Ken is manly. 

I had no choice but to consult the literature, particularly the philosophical work of May (2011). Inspired by the great philosopher, I looked over my maps and quickly discovered the ideal location for proudly displaying my car Ken, complete with all our combined Kenergy. 

This is awesome. I needed this this morning  

Awesome car, awesome writing.

Looking forward to more, and especially the interior pictures.

Thank you!

I think I sprouted some more chest hair just from reading this! Thank you for this dose of unbridled masculinity!

That Miata is certainly Kenough.

To start things off, I scanned Ken for any signs of weakness. In my manliness, I don't tolerate weakness, and there's nothing to weaken a manly man's manly car like rust. 

Surprisingly, considering I live right next to the ocean, there really wasn't much at all. The undercarriage is clean clean, there's nothing but a bit of surface rust on the factory part of the exhaust - the fartcan section, that's spotless. 

Under the hood, there was a little bit of rust, mostly on fasteners and brackets.

This brought me to the first truly existential point in my ownership experience. I need a Miata to temper the overwhelming masculinity of my being, but I also need Ken to express the deepest masculine virtues. I spent the evening karate chopping bricks into dust, hardening my shins against concrete abutments, and bench pressing tractor tires all in an attempt to clear my head. The great philosopher May was no help, and neither could I find anyone who'd travelled a road quite so manly as my own to give advice. It seemed I was on my own. 

So manly virtues first. I removed the weak (rusty) parts of Ken, and hit them with my wire wheel. Pain is weakness leaving the body, and I could hear the metal moaning under the harsh, tough, rough, bristles. Then I cleaned all the threads, applied rust converter, and let everything sit for a while. I could tell this fit with my spiritual aims because all the bits of metal and rust combined with my sweat to really ramp up the masculine musk. 

Then I hit everything with some Kenergy-approved yellow and green spray paint. Inspiration taken from this scene. 

The wipers are blue for the moment because I forgot to buy black paint and I didn't want to leave the bare metal exposed. I'm going to hit them with sandpaper and black paint tonight. 

DaewooOfDeath said:

In order to sort out these confusing feelings, I set out to Tsunoshima, an island near my home. It was rumoured to be very beautiful, and to have lots of wildlife, and there's nothing I like more, in my manliness, than to challenge wildlife to mano a mano contests of strength. 

It was certainly beautiful, and I thoroughly enjoyed the twisting roads along the way. Unfortunately the only wildlife I saw up close was a hawk, and that avian coward wouldn't wrestle me. 

You seem to have picked the wrong shima. The notorious wildlife of Ōkunoshima are renowned for the strength of their fighting spirit, or kawaii, and would certainly have given you a run for your money.

I dare you to paint it pink.

This is fantastic. Thank you.

DarkMonohue said:

DaewooOfDeath said:

In order to sort out these confusing feelings, I set out to Tsunoshima, an island near my home. It was rumoured to be very beautiful, and to have lots of wildlife, and there's nothing I like more, in my manliness, than to challenge wildlife to mano a mano contests of strength. 

It was certainly beautiful, and I thoroughly enjoyed the twisting roads along the way. Unfortunately the only wildlife I saw up close was a hawk, and that avian coward wouldn't wrestle me. 

You seem to have picked the wrong shima. The notorious wildlife of Ōkunoshima are renowned for the strength of their fighting spirit, or kawaii, and would certainly have given you a run for your money.

Looks ferocious. Hahahaha!

My shampoo may say it's for men, but it's no contest for this adventure. Nice to meet you, Ken!

Something you may find helpful is Beta Force
 

In reply to Appleseed :

Hmmm, would I go that far for a joke ... 

Just ordered a Saito four point roll bar and discovered there's a togei style circuit in nearby Hiroshima where one can officially compete for about 70 bucks a day. 

So, about the journey to order the rollbar. My Japanese is barely at survival level and the lovely local authorities (see this thread) have deemed me unworthy of a Japanese credit card until March (as a newish resident they have to investigate me for money laundering first - yes really). As such, there's a combination of not really trusting myself to buy parts off the Japanese Internet and not really being able to shop in the normal sense. Add onto this the fact I would like to start participating in motorsports, and it's pretty important to understand how a race session works before you partake, and I was looking for friends and partners to ease the process. 

The guy who sold me the car competes in drifting events and has a shop, and he wanted me to know I should come to him for my future needs, but he also screwed up the paperwork at least twice and put 6 quarts of oil in the Miata's 4 quart oiling system. Not sure I trust him. I've actually seen several tuning shops in the area around my home, but most of them were very fart-cannons and body-kit centric. The lowered, hella flush, air ride crowd dominates most of the rest. However, on my journey to wrestle the cowardly hawk at Tsunoshima, I drove by a place that looked significantly more promising.  

The parking lot is full of modified and racey-looking cars. There was a Civic with slicks and literal holes rusted through the roof next to the ugliest, most clapped out Honda Fit I've ever seen. There was a grey NB Miata on semi slicks but otherwise stockish looking. There was an Evo 10 with a big front mount, a Honda Beat (really neat 90s kei car mid engined roadster) in rough shape, and a Subaru STI with a lot of very expensive looking aftermarket body parts - almost all of which were damaged or improperly installed. Inside the garage, there is a race prepped EF Civic that's actually a nice car, inside and out. 

Not sure what to make of this, to be frank. The owner obviously races, so that's good. The craftsmanship ranges from horrific (the Honda Fit and that big dollar STI) to actually quite nice (the Evo and the Civic parked inside). I'm sure the owner is responsible for the nice Civic, I'm afraid he's also responsible for the STI and Fit. 

Anyway, I got together with a native Japanese friend who wants to try motorsports and went out to talk with the guy. I checked before hand what a Saito cage should cost, then asked the owner if he'd look into getting a cage for me. If he gave me some ridiculous price, I would know, and bounce. Surprisingly, he actually sourced a new cage for cheaper than what I'd found. I ordered it, and it should be here in about 3 weeks.  

We also asked about local events, and the owner invited us to compete at a "mini circuit" in Hiroshima. YouTube videos of the place make it look like something about halfway between a normal circuit and a gokart track. A B18 swapped 92 Civic onToyo Advan A050 was doing about 1 minute laps. The circuit has 10 turns, and I don't think anybody will ever touch 100 mph on it. 

It is at this point my manliness re-enters the picture. 

As my friend and I were discussing the mini circuit, the owner of the grey Miata arrived. Being a fellow hairdressing enthusiast, he wanted to check out my little car. He complimented my Tein adjustable suspension, got a giggle out of my Skittles colored underhood bolts, and thought my wheels were pretty neat. He then pointed to his grey Miata and said "I have the 1.6L Miata right there." 

Hearing this filled me with a surge of testosterone. My muscles rippled, and my carefully oiled chest hair shimmered in the light. "Mine is a 1.8L," I said. "Big block."

He covered his fear with laughter, shrinking from my presence like one of the hyenas I habitually intimidate whenever I visit the zoo.  "Very powerful," he said. "But let's compare it with some of the other cars here." He pointed to the Evo 10 and the STI. 

Luckily, in addition to embodying all masculine perfections within one body, I am also a world-renowned master of the art of logical analysis. One less versed in the art of logic might have conceded his point. The STI, after all, makes at least twice the power of my big block Miata, and the Evo, judging by the size of the turbo kit, might very well make triple. However, my mastery of the subject allowed me to uncover the deeper, more spiritual truths. Namely:

1. Manliness is concurrent with notions of power. 
2. My manliness is the axiomatic truth from which logic itself flows. 
3. My manliness is thus concurrent with notions of power, of logical necessity.
4. Ken is my car, and thus as manly/powerful as I am.
5. My manliness/power is axiomatically the greatest it is possible to have.
6. Ken, as an extention of my manliness, is also as powerful as it is possible to be.
7. We should never speak of Evos or STIs again.

My rival hairdresser once more covered his fear with laughter, predicting that my manliness will provide an amusing addition to the circuit events. I choose to interpret this as unconditional surrender.