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Mazda Miata Memories

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Red Mazda Miata convertible
A beautiful, nostalgic sports car
Photo: Jacob Frey 4A via Flikr

The idea that nobody ever forgets their first car is a well-worn trope. In fairness, that’s for a pretty good reason. The first time I ever drove, I nearly managed to back into at least one stationary car on a suburban road. Once I’d gained at least some measure of legally recognizable skill behind the wheel, I fell in love with the chunky blue SUV that took me back and forth to work, school, and across Ohio on my way to college.

However, there is one car that will always hold a special, untouchable place in my heart: a little red 1997 Mazda Miata convertible.


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Considering I was only a few years old when it rolled off of the assembly line, I couldn’t tell you when it first appeared in my family’s garage. My earliest memories of that peppy little car are from elementary school, when my Mom would pick me up with the top down on nice days. It also featured as a prominent setpiece in my dramatic reenactments of key scenes from 2006’s Mission Impossible III.

During high school, I would talk about how I wanted to learn how to drive manual so I could take it for a spin every once in a while. Talking is about as far as that plan got for another four or five years.

During that time, the Miata didn’t see much action. More than anything, it became a favorite napping spot for our many cats. On a summertime trip to my family home after my sophomore year of college, my Mom’s partner and I took a vacuum to the interior, a compressor to the tires, and a trickle-charger to the battery. Once we had it up and running, he taught me the mysterious ways of the clutch, down-shifting, and how to avoid stalling every time I had to come to a stop.

After an hour or so on the country roads of southern Michigan, he suggested that we head somewhere a bit more populated. As it turns out, he was giving me directions to the place he planned to purchase an engagement ring for my Mom, and he wanted my help picking one out.

A few years down the line, I decided that I would make fully restoring my beloved Miata a personal project. I looked into replacement batteries, priced new tires and rims, compared detailing costs, and bought a brand-new cloth top. A few weeks later, I got the job for which I am currently writing this article, so I had to postpone my plans.


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That’s okay, though. That little red convertible has been a part of my life since I was two years old, and I know it will still be there, waiting for a little bit of attention and shoddy clutch-operation the next time I head home for the weekend.