Our long drive to Bakersfield, California, and back (for the photo shoot) further underlined that this cabin is not a quiet one. Wind, tire, and engine noise joined forces with thuds that rattled through the whole body whenever there was a washboard road surface or expansion joint.
But I don't mind. I like this car. A lot. Because it's light and nimble. It makes most other cars feel like buses. And I like the sweet gearchange (I'd like it even more if there was a sixth gear), and I like the poise and balance of the chassis.
"I've looked at XS Engineering's website," said the officer, "but it just has a turbo kit for a Celica. Could you find out if I could get one for my MR2?" I said yes (are you gonna say no?) and while it looked to passers-by that this policeman was writing out a ticket for that reprobate in the red sports car, he was giving me his e-mail address. I sent him the details, but I never found out if he got them. The LAPD are kept pretty busy.-Colin Ryan
Project 350Z
Mileage: 92,530
In the CD player: CD ERR F2 or The Chillout Album Vol. 1
Tate wrinkles his nose in scorn when I breathlessly recount a recent tale of freeway domination. "You know," he drawls, "it was waaaayyy more powerful before you got here."
I don't care. Though it barely grinds to life on chillier mornings and idles like we replaced the 30-weight with 80-grit, our Zed is far from dead.
Like up the Grapevine the other day: Interstate 5 is LA-LA-land's major artery to central California and points north. It's our version of the autobahn. Those desirous of a scenic route take the 101 and PCH. All business individuals interested getting from point LA to point SF as fast as possible charge up the 5. This means a lot of big rigs and family-laden SUVs clogging up the windswept passes that wind through Gorman and Frazier Park. No matter, Zed's a GT bruiser, perfect for this kind of action.
I'm lazily chasing Chen and Tate, both in SCC's two sedans, towards Bakersfield. Somewhere behind us, the MR2 is slowly robbing Ryan of what is left of his hearing.
Despite a grade that has truckers hitting their flashers and grabbing low gears, I'm ambling along in a serene state of Zed-induced zen. I can pass my two guys at will, but stay behind Tate, who is radar-equipped. I'm not willing to bet that the CHiPs up here are also SCC fans.
At speed, Zed's mass and slippery silhouette means I'm immune from the gale-force turbulence that rips across the road. When we stop for a pee break, both my compadres complain of fighting the crosswinds and the vortices generated by the 18-wheelers we blow by. I just shrug: "I didn't notice."
What I did notice is that the new brakes have developed an annoying stutter. Pedal feel is reminiscent of the semi-drilled rotors on the ipd S40 (page 38), a fast, rhythmic vibration and quiet wuffling as they spin down from speed. Zed got its brakes done a month ago, prior to the Mazda track day Tate so fondly related. Chen points out uneven rotor surfaces and mumbles something about a bad brake-bedding job.
This isn't the only deficiency of our rapidly aging heavyweight. The fuel gauge is comically deceiving, clicking on the reserve light even when completely full. The latter explains why my wallet is full of gas station receipts for 'fill-ups' of 0.96, 0.82, and 0.45 gallons. Ridiculous.
Zed plays CDs went it wants to, flashes CD ERR F2 when it does not. Zed drinks heavily-about a quart of oil a month-and its heart is in bad shape. The Service Engine light is now on continually. Chen is getting morbidly excited. He thinks a coronary is imminent, which means a fully built twin turbo transplant will shortly follow. I'm not so sure. I think Zed's going to make it to 100k and beyond-still spitting grey smoke and grinding its diff around corners.-Edward Loh