When buying a car for driving pleasure, I follow five immutable rules. They’re non-negotiable. Someday I may be forced to revise them, but until then, they stand.
- Engaging/Analog/Visceral/Tactile. Pick your adjective. The car must pull me in and make me feel like an extension of the vehicle — an integral part of the experience.
- It must put a huge grin upon my face when traversing a winding road, no matter how I felt before the drive.
- It must have a small footprint. For reference: the 993 is the upper limit. The Cayman crosses the line. A modern 911? That just makes me sad.
- Three pedals in the driver’s footwell. No exceptions.
- Steering feel must be good to great. Which, let’s be honest, rules out electric power assist.
With the Westfield gone, I began thinking about filling its spot in the shop. Pleasure driving duties are already split across four cars, so any new addition would need to fill a gap—not duplicate an existing use case.
As I considered those gaps, two stood out.
First, a turbocharged engine. Not the modern kind like in my Mk 7.5 GTI, which spools very quickly and delivers torque from very low rpm, but an old-school turbo—like my much-missed Porsche 951. I enjoy modulating the throttle to dial back the onrush of torque as boost builds mid corner.
Second, a mid-engine layout. Unlike the turbo gap, this one’s never been filled in my car-owning life, making it a higher priority. The Cayman is the obvious choice -- it's always the obvious choice -- but at nearly three inches wider and four inches longer than the 993, it’s simply too big. I toyed with the idea of something left-field like a Dino 308GT4, but the potential maintenance costs make me nervous. The first-gen MR2 had already been ruled out during the Miata search in 2011.
But when I considered the Elise, I couldn’t think of any negatives. It’s small, handles brilliantly, offers great steering feel—and every drive feels like an occasion. Reported drawbacks include gearshift quality, seat comfort, and ride harshness, but none of those are things that can't be fixed.
Given my back issues, my main concern was whether I could manage the ingress/egress ballet. A local owner generously offered to bring his ’07 Elise by so I could give it a try. When he pulled up, my first thought was, “Ooh, Chrome Orange—my favorite color!”
I climbed in and out with an acceptable level of discomfort, which meant the search for an Elise was officially on.
We chatted for about 45 minutes. Toward the end, he mentioned plans to list the car on Bring a Trailer sometime next year. When I asked about the delay, he explained that he wanted time for proper photography and to tackle upcoming maintenance items so the car would need nothing. Plus, with BaT’s usual lead time, the listing would otherwise land at the wrong time of year.
This car was perfect. One owner, 28k miles, spotless, fastidiously maintained, and Chrome Orange. Having tracked prices for the past month and seeing wild variations in seller expectations, I assumed he would be on the unreasonable end of the spectrum. However, when he said what he was hoping to get for the car, I realized he was being reasonable. I then asked if he could sell it now, without any of the hassle leading up to spring, would he consider it, and a deal was struck.
I was extremely lucky to buy the car from this particular owner. He kept meticulous records throughout its life, amassed a generous collection of spares, and made only minimal modifications. The most notable of these are the SSR Comp wheels in Sport Package sizing—6.5" wide fronts versus the base 5.5".
Those wheels are significantly lighter than the standard Touring set. Based on published weights, the fronts shed 3 lb each, and the rears drop 7.5 lb apiece—for a total unsprung weight savings of 21 lb. In a 1900 lb car.
Now that I’ve logged nearly 200 miles in the Elise, a few discoveries have surfaced.
First, the gear change: it’s fine. Not great, but certainly acceptable. I might make some minor tweaks to improve it, but until the dreaded blue ball fails, I’m not investing in an expensive aftermarket setup.
Second, the ride. Also fine. Perhaps the car’s reduced unsprung weight helps, or perhaps it’s the reasonably smooth roads in my area. Or perhaps the people who complain just aren’t used to stiffly sprung cars. Or perhaps a combination. Regardless, I see no compelling reason to upgrade the spring/damper combo right now.
That leaves the seats. They suck. Badly.
I really don’t want to drop big money on Tillets to fix the issue. So, for the hell of it, I pulled the little Sparco side pads from the Miata’s Sparco Sprints and wedged them behind my back. Instant fix. They reduce discomfort by adding support where I need it, and they close the oversized gap between my midsection and the side bolsters—dramatically improving lateral support.
That's a long enough Blog entry. In the future, I'll cover how the cars compare and how the use cases differ.
We chatted for about 45 minutes. Toward the end, he mentioned plans to list the car on Bring a Trailer sometime next year. When I asked about the delay, he explained that he wanted time for proper photography and to tackle upcoming maintenance items so the car would need nothing. Plus, with BaT’s usual lead time, the listing would otherwise land at the wrong time of year.
This car was perfect. One owner, 28k miles, spotless, fastidiously maintained, and Chrome Orange. Having tracked prices for the past month and seeing wild variations in seller expectations, I assumed he would be on the unreasonable end of the spectrum. However, when he said what he was hoping to get for the car, I realized he was being reasonable. I then asked if he could sell it now, without any of the hassle leading up to spring, would he consider it, and a deal was struck.
I was extremely lucky to buy the car from this particular owner. He kept meticulous records throughout its life, amassed a generous collection of spares, and made only minimal modifications. The most notable of these are the SSR Comp wheels in Sport Package sizing—6.5" wide fronts versus the base 5.5".
Those wheels are significantly lighter than the standard Touring set. Based on published weights, the fronts shed 3 lb each, and the rears drop 7.5 lb apiece—for a total unsprung weight savings of 21 lb. In a 1900 lb car.
Now that I’ve logged nearly 200 miles in the Elise, a few discoveries have surfaced.
First, the gear change: it’s fine. Not great, but certainly acceptable. I might make some minor tweaks to improve it, but until the dreaded blue ball fails, I’m not investing in an expensive aftermarket setup.
Second, the ride. Also fine. Perhaps the car’s reduced unsprung weight helps, or perhaps it’s the reasonably smooth roads in my area. Or perhaps the people who complain just aren’t used to stiffly sprung cars. Or perhaps a combination. Regardless, I see no compelling reason to upgrade the spring/damper combo right now.
That leaves the seats. They suck. Badly.
I really don’t want to drop big money on Tillets to fix the issue. So, for the hell of it, I pulled the little Sparco side pads from the Miata’s Sparco Sprints and wedged them behind my back. Instant fix. They reduce discomfort by adding support where I need it, and they close the oversized gap between my midsection and the side bolsters—dramatically improving lateral support.
That's a long enough Blog entry. In the future, I'll cover how the cars compare and how the use cases differ.
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