A month after acquiring a zippy, cute, and altogether charming Soul Red Crystal Metallic Mazda Miata MX-5 that I’ve named Mickey, I have become a lot more acquainted with our East County backroads, sideroads, and country roads. After all, what’s the point in having a car like Mickey if you don’t take him out for joyrides? Mickey isn’t for shopping or commuting or anything remotely humdrum. Mickey’s for the open road, the more open the better, wind in the hair and bugs in the teeth, as they say.
A few observations gleaned from the past month’s daily expeditions hither and yon:
I’m a much better driver than I was. Before Mickey I was a plain vanilla driver, safe and sound and not particularly adventuresome. I have always enjoyed driving and so I pay attention and all that. But now I take Mickey out daily as the weather permits, often on curvy affairs such as Marsh Creek Road, and acquire practice in squiring this itty-bitty, lightweight car around the many bends and curves with comfort, getting the rhythm of the clutch and accelerator and shifter just so, and in general improving my overall handling of a vehicle. Not being daredevil or foolish—there are plenty of other people to do that for me. Just honing my skills.
Cami, my Camry XLE, feels huge. She never used to feel huge. Now she feels huge. Driving Cami remains a pleasure as always; she’s one smooth ride, always cooperative, always friendly. And powerful. I have to remind myself that she has way more horsepower than Mickey and, since she’s higher and more insulated, tends to discount perceived velocity. In Mickey, 45 mph is a romp. In Cami, 45 mph barely registers as movement. Thus one must practice vigilance.
A manual gearshift is da bomb on winding roads. That’s because I can keep my foot off the brake and downshift to both slow down and increase the engine’s grip on a tight curve. Then I can upshift once the coast is clear, letting Mickey whizz along with a self-satisfied purr.
Caravans are more noticeable. By ‘caravan’ I mean a line of cars snaking along two-lane, no-pass roads such as Marsh Creek Road, Deer Valley Road, or Bailey Road, all bogged down behind a somnolent lead car that just crawls along and brakes nervously for every curve or downhill slope. Crawler cars can be almost any make and model, but in my experience the most common are family minivans like Pacificas, elderly chug-a-wug-a pickup trucks, top-heavy boxes such as Ford Econolines, and Priuses. Their excessive caution is by and large understandable; you just try skippering a Pacifica down Marsh Creek Road from Clayton to Brentwood without seasickness. Priuses, however, are light cars with low centers of gravity. They really should be able to take the curves with panache. I guess those Prius drivers don’t want to spill their vegan herbal tea.