The One.

It’s one in the morning, and I’m staring at grainy photos on a used car sales site.
Miata Is Always The Answer, but for the sake of personal pedantry, I’m looking for a Eunos Roadster. It’s been a drawn-out search; I briefly considered one as my first car, but decided on a slightly more sensible Toyota Yaris T Sport. It’s harder to stuff a FWD hatchback into a ditch, plus it turns out that insurers are far happier with you having airbags and a roof when you’re starting out driving. I love the Yaris, a first-generation model, pre-facelift, one of a handful built in Japan, unlike later PSA-built models. It gets amazing mileage, and drives brilliantly. In many ways it’s the perfect first car — cheap, quick, but not quick enough to get you in trouble. Just the right amount of mechanical niggles that you learn that cars aren’t indestructible. A year after I had it the exhaust decided to detach on the motorway, and now, 18 months later, the exhaust manifold has begun to blow, so the engine sounds raspy when it’s under duress. With me behind the wheel that’s quite often. It’s not a terminal illness, but it’s a sixteen year old supermini. Its days are numbered, and I think we both know it. In all honesty, showing up in a spluttering old hatch isn’t the ideal impression to make on a client, especially when that client sells very rare, very expensive supercars. No situation was more awkward than driving across the pond at the McLaren Technology Center with Ted Gushue, the editor of Petrolicious as my passenger. We parked in executive parking, and I felt anything but. Great story to pull out at parties, but my ego was bruised for quite some time after that debacle.

In my search for a replacement, very few of the listings are piquing my interest. If it doesn’t have eBay lowering springs, or stance mods, it has the real killer of these cars — rust. Early examples are approaching three decades old; the British winters have not treated them kindly.
The MX5 is not an uncommon car, and I’ve grown into the habit of inspecting any that I find in the wild quite thoroughly. Over time it’s became increasingly clear that a miniscule proportion are in remotely decent state. It wasn’t acceptable. I’ve wanted one for too long. It has to be right.
I look for a few months before I consider an alternate option — importing. Endless Eunos Roadsters populate the classifieds. It’s clearly a popular option, although most for sale were imported such a long time ago that they’re in about as rough shape as any domestic model. But surely, there have to still be importers somewhere. There are, and I get in touch. The prices are steep —but the payoff is a car as close to perfect as you’re going to get.
A red Eunos Roadster has just been sourced by their scout in Japan. He’s very excited about it. Very few red cars are still in decent condition — the sun damages the lacquer, but more interesting about it is the age. It’s a later car — a 1.8L engine, but with the upgrades usually found on a ‘special’ model. Lightened flywheel and a Torsen LSD. And the real kicker? It has some period-correct Rays Engineering Mazdaspeed wheels. These things are incredibly rare.
But I still had some reservations. The only images we have of it look like they were taken by a Motorola RAZR (remember those?), and the interior has period correct, and hideous (but unbelievably sought after) checkered flag Mazdaspeed floor mats. It has an aftermarket LCD screen mounted on the dash, with frankenstein wires running down the side of the central console to what looks like an amplifier. I trust the importer, but ultimately buying a car sight unseen is a gamble, and I’m not usually a gambler.
Alas, I gambled. I put a deposit down. Sitting under fluorescent strip lights, somewhere in an auctioneers warehouse in Japan, a red Eunos Roadster had my name on it.
That was back at the start of spring. Summer is passing by and besides the limited communication I’ve had with my importer, I’ve not heard a great deal about the car. After all, not much can be said for a car that’s sitting in a container, on a vast ship somewhere in the ocean.
Finally, in late June, I hear that’s it has arrived on UK shores. I’ve paid a premium for the task of customs handling, registration, and all of the other necessities to make the car roadworthy on British shores, so despite the car now being on dry land once again, I’m stuck waiting anxiously to see some higher resolution photos, and know that the car has made it over safely. It has, and it hasn’t.

The car is in a strange state. The Mazdaspeed floor mats have conspicuously disappeared between the auction floor and the port, and the wheels? They’re cracked beyond repair, and were almost certainly not genuine items in the first place. The classic red paint is also more like a classic salmon colour, after two decades baking under the Japanese sun. On the plus side, it means it probably spent its life in southern Japan, but on the downside, it needs a respray, further delaying the pick up.
We’re now into the middle of the racing season. I spend July in the United States and Canada covering Formula E, and in the meantime, the car is stripped and painted. I’m told the underside is in incredible condition, but photos are still rarely appearing to verify that. After such a long wait, and quite a lot of money on the table, I’m frustrated; and it certainly doesn’t help that I’m having to deal with this in the middle of a huge job on a different continent. I’m not a trusting person at the best of times, and the lack of photos has been a constant sticking point in the process. Thankfully, one morning my inbox has some attachments. Not the most glamorous images, but I’m glad to see the car in the paint shop, and approaching a state ready for collection.

I head up to the Lake District in early August as a stopping point to my final destination. My Yaris is going into storage at my parents’ place, and I’m heading up to Berwick-upon-Tweed to Goodwood Sportscars to collect the car. It’s a fun run along the Scottish borders, and I can’t wait to make the return trip back with my MX5. After all of the complaining about a lack of images it’s rather ironic that I didn’t actually take any of the car on the day of collection.
I was head over heels the moment I saw it. Sitting on 14" Enkei wheels in lieu of the Mazdaspeeds, it just looked perfect. The underside is immaculate, there’s no sign of rust anywhere I look, and I look about a thoroughly as one can. The interior is magical, and completely stock bar a rather nifty looking Nardi Ambition gear knob. Engine bay is spotless. The whole car is stunning. Slightly dusty in places, but absolutely magical to behold. Also, they found a ten yen coin in the door pocket on arrival and turned it into a keyring, which is neat.
I knew that it would be better than any car I’ve seen in the UK, but it’s beyond all of my expectations.
Even more importantly than the condition, the car possessed an intangible connection, a deep sense of rightness and emotion. Touching the car with my hands, sitting in the seat, it felt emotionally right.
The drive home was magical.







This isn’t just an MX5, this is The One. Or at least that’s the eventual aim — to become the MX5 — to embody and elevate every element of this brilliant design, and Jinba Ittai, without any compromise. For now though, I’m going to spend some time learning, and more importantly enjoying, this car to its maximum.