Here is the new MX-5 — or the Miata of your generation. When you drive this, logic goes out the window. It took us about six seconds to flip down the soft top of the Mazda MX-5, or the Miata as it’s more affectionately known, and it was a slow six seconds.
There are no motors to do the work, but ideally you could do it in three – release a lever just above the rear view mirror, undo the hook, then tuck it down neatly behind the headrests with a click. But we were careful not to break anything.
At a starting price of P1.6 million, it was not a go kart—although once you scrunch your 5’7” frame onto the driver’s seat, that’s what it felt like exactly. But that one act of doing away with the roof explained the joy of owning a roadster: the freedom, the individuality, the promise of speed, the abandonment of all logic (four doors, back seat, usable trunk space) for pure fantasy (no back seat, a hole for a trunk, but damn sporty). In Mazda’s own primal words: zoom-zoom.
And we hadn’t even started the engine yet.
When we did, we were hurtling down the beautiful, winding roads of the Sierra Madre loop. Up to Cogeo, through the mountains, down Pililla, Rizal, then up and down again. Because that’s where the MX-5 belonged. The rush of the manual transmission transferring power to the back (yes, a rear wheel drive) ran a loop up to your throttle foot straight to the groin.
Negotiating the hairpins, with the top down, the wind in your face, the car twitching and turning the way you want it to, felt like a cliché – except that you feel it, and it’s real.