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Imagine, if you will, a solitary man sitting slumped at the bar of a dark, depressing dive. Further along, an unshaven bar man stands despondently polishing a glass, wishing the guy would leave so he could close up early. Instead the man raises a finger and gestures for another shot. Silently he sits, sadly weeping over his lonesome drink. This is a man who once bought not one but two Italian cars.
I know this man. This man is me.
The Bad Old Days
Italian cars of the past had all the attributes of a practiced vamp: hugely desirable and ruinously expensive. My first, back in the 20th century, rusted away in real time. You could see it happening. My second 21st century car, bought new, ate front tires like doughnuts and developed mysterious electrical problems within months. After these experiences I vowed never again to buy a car that had any Italian DNA. Fiat 124 Spider
All that is now gone; like a man waking from a deep narcoleptic sleep brought on by a whole series of dull, dispiriting cars designed to suck the vitality out of gearheads the world over, I am again in love with an Italian cutie. That?s right, you?d think after two horrendous experiences, I would learn from my past errors of judgment yet I am once again smitten: but it?s okay, truly, because the diminutive Fiat 124 Spider may have Italian ancestry but is in fact hardly Italian at all.
Essentially, it is a Mazda MX-5 Miata in a designer Italian frock....