It’s been a while, PRNDL. But I can explain my absence: I’ve been lazy. Ta-da! Well, maybe a bit of that, some mental health gremlins, and a whole lot of career toss-ups within the past year and a half. But alas, I’m back and here with some bars to spit about a milestone I recently completed that every enthusiast should strive to hit. Yours truly finagled his way into taste-testing a near-stock NA-generation Mazda MX-5 Miata, thanks to a generous friend’s lightly modded, low-mileage example.
“Miata is always the answer,” people incessantly bark online like broken records. However, they can’t all be wrong, right? And after all, wouldn’t it be refreshing to enjoy some pure, distilled driving like my ancestors – by ancestors, I mean my dad and uncles? After years of walking this Earth with high-octane in my veins and exhaust fumes in my lungs, I finally discovered if Miata truly is the answer or if it’s merely copium for people who forgot cars can now make over 200 horsepower.
Spoiler alert. I’m the one who needs copium… Copium for the withdrawals I’m now having after giving the car back.
What Is It?
Produced in Hiroshima, Japan from 1989 to 1997, the Mazda MX-5 Miata, dubbed the Eunos Roadster on its home turf, was the brainchild of Mazda’s North American product planner at the time and former auto journalist Bob Hall. A lifelong enthusiast, Hall spurred the Miata into development, insisting that Mazda build an inexpensive sibling to the RX-7 and produce something that can recapture the joyous spirit found in roadsters of old.
This particular example, lent by my good friend Joe, is a 1992 NA1 Miata, meaning it’s the first iteration of the first generation, wielding a 1.6-liter inline four-cylinder producing 116 horsepower at 6,500 rpm and 100 pound-feet at 5,500 rpm. Paired with incredibly short gears for its five-speed manual and tipping the scales at a hair over 2,200 pounds, that otherwise laughable power figure enabled respectable 0-to-60 sprints in the mid-to-high eight-second range. Not fast, but not bad.
Specs:
Current Values: $6,000 to $15,000 (based on condition)
Powertrain: 1.6L DOHC inline-four // 5-speed manual
Horsepower: 116 horsepower @ 6,500 RPM
Torque: 100 pound-feet @ 5,500 RPM
Seating Capacity: 2
Cargo Volume: 3.6 cubic feet
Curb Weight: approx. 2,216 pounds
Let it go on record when I say that Joe’s Miata is a pretty bang-on example that’s hard to come by here on the barren sands of the Las Vegas Valley. It’s nearly stock, with the only real modification being a set of coilovers to replace the blown OEM struts, Enkei RPF1 wheels wrapped in fairly mild Continental summer tires, and a tame but throaty exhaust. It’s immaculately well-preserved inside and out, even retaining the factory radio and tape player, which may be expected given the 61,000 miles on the odometer.
Blah, Blah, Blah, Street Car
Alright. I must do this every time I review a car, regardless of what that car is or where I publish the review. So, here it is. Here are my two cents on the NA1 Miata as an everyday street car, a.k.a. all the neat yet trivial shit that likely mattered little to prospective buyers when new and sure as hell matters little to prospective buyers now.
An NA Miata is a surprisingly livable urban runabout. That wind-up toy size makes it stupendously easy to dart in and out of parking lots like a rat scurrying from a pissed-off chef. Drop the surprisingly well-insulated manual soft top and enjoy the infinite headroom and near-perfect 360-degree visibility as you cruise down city streets in relative comfort with the ample factory radio blaring its little heart out with impressive-ish volume and clarity. Even the simplistic cloth seats are cozy enough for a few hours of commuting, although storage space is expectedly minimal, with tiny cupholders and a few tiny cubbies.
Fuel economy is just okay, with an average EPA rating of 24 mpg, but it’s further neutered by a small 11.9-gallon fuel tank and the fact that 80 mph in fifth gear equates to 4,000 rpm. Although an NA Miata is reasonably stable at those speeds, even when passing (or being passed by) semis, it’s not a bahnstormer in the slightest, and that’s okay.
Where it comes alive and why you buy this damn thing in the first place is when the going gets twisty. Really twisty. Really, really twisty.
A Hard Factory Reset On Driving Pleasure
Gods be praised that we can still snag cars like these for under five figures without looking too hard because GREAT GOOGILY MOOGILY, it’s a breathtaking and honest refresher on how blue-collar driver’s cars used to be. No traction or stability control. No adjustable drive modes. No powertrain settings. Just drop a gear and, er, well, try to disappear, just like the pioneers used to do when they drove these on the Oregon Trail.
Joe and I departed the borders of the Las Vegas Valley, escaping the nearby dust storm and running for the hills between Goodsprings and Sandy Valley in search of a good time by exercising his Miata and S2000 (review on that soon, wink, wink). Lo and behold, I’ve been absolved of my modern car woes, a revelation I sensed coming before we even hit the canyon road.
An NA Miata is obviously not the most spacious thing on the commute. Don’t care. Its small size lets you toy with a pseudo racing line on winding roads without coming dangerously close to the lane markers. The featherweight sensation its size affords pays dividends as you tirelessly swing this thing around bends like a child’s plaything, with driver inputs light in effort but communicative in feedback as the car reacts to your will with glee and encouragement.
An NA Miata is not the fastest thing on the road, either. Doesn’t matter. 116 horsepower from its impressively smooth and rev-happy four-banger is ample for rocketing such a lightweight car out of corners, while its wicked short gears only amplify the sensation of speed. Joe left me for dead between every turn when he wielded his S2000, the Miata having no counterattack for the VTEC onslaught. But I sure as hell felt just as fast, if not faster. The simple, legible tach swings quickly even if the speedo doesn’t, and you’re always working that satisfyingly firm gear shifter, the lever resting inches from the steering wheel, chasing that 7,000-rpm redline.
Sure, not every NA Miata will drive like this. Expect many on Marketplace to be tired and worn, like that exhausted coworker who’s been around the block too long but still greets you with a smile as they clock in. Give that person a jolt of caffeine and maybe a good full-body massage, and they’ll be down to party with you all night long.
That’s an NA Miata. Kind-hearted and gentle but always yearning for shenanigans with hardly a fret, and they only get better the nicer, more well-kept, and “massaged” they are. As a car from an appliance standpoint, they’re impractical, dainty, and easily strained at American highway speeds. Driven in anger, they’re deceptively solid and precise, with a lot more vigor than you’d expect from that spec sheet.
And yes, if you please, there’s that infinitely wide aftermarket to build whatever Miata you want, should you crave more. Race car, rally car, stance car, go crazy! The world is your oyster for building the sharpest, most capable track weapon or the goofiest, most atrocious stance build TikTok will ever see. This needs no further elaboration. We’ve all seen Spec Miata race footage. And we’ve also all seen the hype beast edits of slammed Miatas with RGB underglow and a dancing Kuromi in the background.
“Yippee!”
Of the cars I’ve reviewed in the last year or two, an NA1 Miata is certainly the slowest of the bunch. It won’t turn laps like my BRZ, nor will its comparatively simple powertrain sing like Joe’s S2000. It’s fighting for its life to even keep up with a current-generation Prius, and it might as well be a caveman’s invention compared to high-tech legends of its time like Skyline GT-Rs and Lancer Evos. And despite all of that, it’s probably the car I’m most eager to drive again. And again. And again. And again, until the wheels fall off and Joe puts a restraining order on me.
Most intriguing of all is the Miata’s lack of ego regarding the driving experience it delivers. There’s no perceived smugness around its abilities because, objectively, it really doesn’t have much going for it. A Miata doesn’t affirm to you how great it is as a car, even if it is a Colin Chapman wet dream infused with a smooth, willing engine.
A Miata affirms to you how great you are as a driver to be able to push it hard and have such a sidesplitting time at speeds that won’t land you in a cell block. Die-hards on the internet preached for years, and now I can see why because if you seek an affordable plaything that will teach you what a driver’s car truly is, then Miata truly is the answer. Now and always.
