When I saw the title of this video, I raged quite hard internally. It was the first time I was so offended by anything on the internet, because that's such a silly fucking notion to me.
For as ridiculously flawed as the FD RX-7 is, hardly anyone says a bad thing about it. I think that's because the RX-7 has already achieved a legendary status among car enthusiasts, being a prominent highlight of the fabled 90's Japanese sports car boom. And as if the rose tinted glasses of nostalgia that's selling like sickening hotcakes today weren't enough on their own, this car is flawed in all the right and darling ways. It's horrendously thirsty for both fuel and oil. It's not exactly practical. It has a reputation for having sketchy at best reliability. It's difficult to get in and out of, even for the Japanese. But those are all endearing flaws and compromises because it is so focused on one and one thing only: to offer the driver the best driving experience ever. And to that end, by god does it deliver. Many still laud the FD today as one of the finest handling cars ever produced, and, in my very biased mind, the single most beautiful, as well. All the curves accentuate the beauty of its inherent shape, but none of them ever feel deliberate, like they are conscious, stylistic choices like all the pretend creases and folds in today's fat cars that struggle to stand out. The proportions are just... so... right. We will never have another car as low and curvaceous, and certainly not as light and focused as the FD RX-7 ever again, thanks to asinine laws that protect fucking idiots who don't look both ways twice before crossing, and the people who drive when they know they shouldn't to keep them all on the road for longer to endanger people more and make cars fatter and more artificial.
The FD RX-7 is a very personal thing to me, and I realise how stupid that sounds, given I've never even sat in one before, and probably never will. I think, at my lowest, cars, and the FD, were what I had chosen as an alternative to define me, to pull me out of a very dark pit I still don't quite understand today. It has shaped me and how I grew up for maybe the better and definitely the worse. I don't think I've ever mentioned this yet, but I really do hate myself for loving cars. I think it is such a stupid hobby, such a stupid sport, and such a stupid thing to love. It's very difficult to love cars without having someone breathe down your neck for it, be it laws, neighbours, a fiancée, your kids, your bank account, or even your own goddamned spine when the time comes. As a sport it is so... crude. Racing is a non contact sport, but even at the highest levels of racing, contact is inevitable. We wave accidents off as "racing incidents", and "being at the wrong place at the wrong time", but each can kill a man or cripple him for life. We burn precious resources as a sport. And honestly, I think the world would be just fine without racing drivers, without fast cars. I believe sponsors and people in need of a status symbol will find something else to throw their money at. But what would the world be without psychologists, accountants, chefs, etc..? Hell, even soccer brings groups of people together. Golf is even used as a businessman's sport. The hell is racing even good for? And it is such an obscenely expensive sport, reserved for those born into it. You want to be a basketball player? Your school probably has a basketball club. Your community centre probably has a basketball court or three. You can buy equipment for it at your local sporting store. But how do you become a racing driver? How do you become good at it? How do you get more involved, how do you get your foot in the door?
I hate myself for loving cars. I feel like I've dedicated my life to an end that will never ever acknowledge me. To an end I will never make a difference to. I have suffered so much mental anguish, and still I have yet to even sit in an FD. I have taken up engineering. I have taken up Japanese. I have flown to Japan on my own. I've been to Mazda's HQ. I have driven my nuts off in simulators trying to chase lap times I have no idea how to achieve. And I feel like I'm at such a loss in every respect. No one is here to guide me, because no one else here loves cars, let alone has made it in the industry. The car culture here is so consciously pretentious it makes me fucking sick. There is no creativity here, there is no performance, no substance, here; only showboating. There is nowhere to run your car here. Car shows here are all about downpayments, monthly repayments, insurance, warranties, running costs, resale value, etc.. And while those are all very valid concerns, they all sound so... foreign, to me. And yes, I realise that this is foreign to me only because I grew up on the wrong side of the fence of common sense, but it genuinely bewilders and disgusts me when people talk about cars like the cold chunks of metal they are. It disgusts me when people ask about resale value because to me that sounds exactly like marrying a woman and asking how much you can pawn her off for later after you've slept with her. No one here *WANTS* a car. They want a car as a tool to get from A to B, and will very happily take a bottom of the barrel pile of junk as a tool. They want a car that looks expensive and has a cool looking, exotic badge on it, even if that same car is the entry level car somewhere else in the world, as a status symbol. As a way to woo women. As a way to bolster their self image and cover up their own inadequacies. There are entire body kits, entire CARS, sold with fake, non functional vents, intakes, and aero bits, just to cater to an image, and people BUY them. No one here *WANTS* a car for the driving experience it can provide. No one here WANTS a car to go on a personal journey of self discovery. No one here loves a car. No one here sees anything in a car more than a cold chunk of metal. No one here wants a car to drive it. And it makes me fucking sick to be here.
...god damn that was a can of worms I hadn't expected to pop open when I started this post.
*ah-hem* I think a lot of us English and Japanese speaking car enthusiasts have been bewitched by the FD RX-7 to really and fairly criticise it for its flaws, because it is so difficult to objectively judge given its legendary status. I will never stop loving and wanting one, even if to drive one means I will cook my left thigh medium rare each trip, for example. It goes beyond reasoning and rational thought. Sports cars were never about reasoning and rational thought to begin with; if anything, they're meant to be a break away from that. An escape from thought and reasoning when it has worn you down and torn away at you in your daily life. A means to never grow up and forget the wonder of seeing the world through a child's eyes. A way to see characters in the inanimate. It was really refreshing and even eye opening to see someone bash the FD with valid complaints, because I have been so blind to them. And when the host of the review praises the unique assets of the FD, I felt a side of me long dead spark with joy again. I felt... proud, for a bit, when he mentioned how lightweight and compact the Rotary Engine is. How little moving parts it had. How that lightness and simplicity more than makes up for the power deficit it suffers in comparison to its rivals of its day. It even made me thrilled and excited for competition. And it put into perspective for me just how emotionally invested I am in the damn thing, to feel angry when I saw the title, to feel joy and pride when the car is praised. It's almost as if I have put a part of me into the damn car. A car I don't even own. It is quite literally my favourite car in my favourite colour, and I just... don't have the words. And, quite frankly, in that state of wonder and joy, I don't need words.
But it makes me realise why that side of me has died. The side of me that feels wonder, pride, and joy in cars. Because it's all so fucking stupid. What business have I investing myself like that in a car that I don't own? For all that I feel, I couldn't finance Mazda to make a new Rotary sports car. I couldn't prove how capable it is in races. That may or may not even be the point of sports cars, the more I think about it. I am just sick and tired, of feeling so much, that go nowhere and do nothing. I'm just sick and tired, for never being good enough for what I love.
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