A Miata

Me, applying zip ties and thinking about earthquakes, probably.

I live in San Francisco, where Covid caused two things to be true:

  1. Lots of people no longer wanted to live here
  2. Going for brunch in the city was a life vs death proposition

This meant an abundance of street parking. So like Americans motivated by $1/gallon gas, I bought a car. Except instead of an SUV, I bought a Miata, a tiny, buzzy, two-seater Japanese convertible.

This was not my first Miata. I had owned one for a few months while living in DC. That car, like almost any Miata, was extremely charming, but was also extremely full of mold and rust. I sold it some teenagers before moving across the country.

This Miata would be different, in that I would care for this Miata, channeling energy that I could not apply towards appearing cool in social gathering. It would be great. I would buy tools and learn new things from YouTube. One day, I would weld an exhaust, maybe.

Everything I'm doing here is wrong/I recommend wearing socks while welding.

Since buying this Miata, I've done various oil changes, replaced a timing belt and water pump, built and installed baller Bilstein coilovers, replaced a convertible top, swapped in bigger sway bars, installed frame rails, padded the interior with sound deadening, and cut foam out of car seats with an electric turkey knife. Soon I hope to install a roll bar, to prevent being crushed under the weight of my sweet, sweet car.

The best thing about learning to work on this car has been the incredible YouTube community. I recommend the very informative Greg Peters as well as the slightly less informative but fun Money Pit series from Donut.