1990 MKI ‘WHITE’
This is the earliest, simplest car here
I’ve owned two early MX-5S and each was magnificent. Nothing could match them for poise and purpose.
The black and grey cabin would probably come with a flower in a vase on the dashboard and infinite options for budding young customisers if it was being launched today, but here you get only what you need – and that’s just fine. Everything falls to hand intuitively and I still love the fact that the most prominent button on the dashboard pops the headlights up for a quick flash… cheeky!
It can’t have been difficult for Mazda to sell 400,000 of these cars, with the Alfa Spider as its only real competition.
It’s everything you could want from a small roadster, but made reliable.
And yet it’s really not the engine’s longevity that’s on my mind as I make my exit from the pits and onto the track.
I’m feeling a thirst for power. For some, the need for speed was always where early MX-5S – and the 1.6-litre cars in particular – failed to deliver. It’s no slingshot, so you have to wait for the thrills to start. Do I mind this? Not in the least. Exploring the revs, searching for power delivery and fetching in the horses from every corner of the diminutive four-pot is all part of the fun, the period charm. It’s perky enough once it’s on song beyond 4000rpm and switching between the gears is hardly a chore – the gearbox is as sweet as they come.
I feel the longitudinal truss – marketed by Mazda as the Powerplant Frame
– at the first corner. It provides the backbone that links my hands with both the front and the rear end of the car in exactly in the way Colin Chapman intended. It’s no accident that a naked MX-5 bears a striking resemblance to an unclothed Elan, although Chapman would have wanted the MX-5 to be even lighter. If I have a quibble, it’s the solidity of the car that loses it some edge. And every sports car needs
edge.