Now, to top it all off
YOU would think that of all the automotive components that might have reached a state of enlightenment by now, it would be the convertible top. After all, compared to the fraught algorithms and micron tolerances required in high-compression engines, variable suspensions and the like, the convertible top looks downright remedial. Aluminum bows and spars, canvas, gears, lever arms, augers. Rearrange these same elements and you could build yourself a Sopwith Camel.
And yet, the convertible top continues to frustrate some of autodom’s largest forebrains. Typically, these installations require substantial reinforcement of the vehicle body -- to compensate for the loss of tensile structure a fixed roof provides -- which makes the drop-top versions heavier and less nimble. Just as typically, they gobble up precious trunk space. Once down, a lot of convertible tops lie like deflated weather balloons across the back of the car: e.g., the Toyota Solara, the Mini Cooper, the VW Beetle. To conceal the frumpy pile of canvas pleats, some manufacturers provide a molded plastic shell that fits over them, a la the Honda S2000, which is the kind of temporizing half-solution you’d expect of Trabant.
However, the standard-bearer of plein-air backwardness at the moment is/are the otherwise nifty Pontiac Solstice/Saturn Sky twins, which require the driver to get out of the car, fold the top manually, and slam shut the rear-hinged deck lid. Raising the top is even more of a Swedish fire drill: The driver has to run around the car snapping the spring-loaded roof buttresses into their catches. The people who designed this top ought to really cut back on their Haldol.
For more than a decade, the best canvas top has belonged to Mazda’s MX-5, nee Miata, the company’s latter-day Lotus Elan. Not only could you lower the top simply by releasing two headliner latches and tossing the top over your shoulder as if you were taking off a hat, you could raise it with one arm, without leaving the driver’s seat and without rending your rotator cuff. Also, thanks to the MX-5’s Z-shaped folding mechanism, the top folds with the exterior side out to form a clean tonneau.
The point is, the MX-5’s canvas top didn’t need fixing, but Mazda fixed it anyway with a new powered retractable hardtop that is optional on the 2007 model MX-5. According to Mazda execs, the object of the exercise is to make the MX-5 more of a 50-state, all-weather car. OK, sure. But considering the minimal bump in cost -- the reasonably frilled retractable hardtop model costs $24,945, compared with the club-racing stripper that starts at $21,000 -- and the leap in cabin serenity and security, the retractable hardtop makes all kinds of sense right here in sunny California.
So, where’s the downside? The retractable mechanism adds a mere 77 pounds to the overall weight of the car, for a curb weight of 2,575 pounds -- still roughly 300 pounds lighter than the Saturn Sky. As for the top’s operation, it takes a grand total of 12 seconds to raise or lower the top. Simply throw the single headliner latch, press a button and the rear deck panel seems to levitate away from the car. The hinged top folds one way while the rear window rotates another; the panels palm together and slip into a compartment behind the seats. Aesthetically, you couldn’t ask for a better integration.
Once the top is stowed, the MX-5 looks like it never had one. When the top is up, you’d be hard pressed, from inside the cabin, to distinguish the car from a fixed-roof counterpart. Road and wind noise are comparable to a closed cockpit car. In the pre-production model that I drove to Monterey a few weeks back, the car was summarily sound, without the slightest chirr or squeak. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about the MX-5 flip-lid is that the trunk space -- 5.1 cubic feet -- is unchanged from the canvas-top version.
Also unchanged is the MX-5’s eager and enchanting behavior. Feather-light, darty and capering, the MX-5 is like throwing a saddle on Tinker Bell. Few cars answer to the reins as willingly or as well as the MX-5. The steering ratio is tighter than a young cabernet, with small and delicate steering inputs yielding sweeping arcs of angular momentum. The steering column and sport seat broadcasts road feel to the wheel in high definition. The pedals are perfectly placed. The six-speed gearshift linkages snick from ratio to ratio flawlessly. The brakes have a beautifully delicate, easily modulated feel. One of the major upgrades to the grand touring model is the 17-inch tires on 10-spoke alloys. These have terrific grip and love to slide into corners with a long, sweetly shrill squeal. Compared to the MX-5, Nijinsky was a piano mover.
None of this is particularly surprising, given that the MX-5 is the most popular road-racing car in America. Mazda has virtually patented the singular feel of this car, the way the polar center seems to live right at the driver’s right hip, the purely predictable and confidence-inspiring way the car plays toss-and-catch in corners, the cold-chiseled hardness. Mazda has also managed to translate this feeling to some of its other cars, like the RX-8 and even the Mazda3.
There is, of course, one way to ruin the MX-5 and that is to add more horsepower. You’ll forgive me this bit of piston apostasy, but ladling more horsepower onto the MX-5 does not make it a better sports car. Under the hood currently is a scrappy little 2.0-liter, dual-overhead cam, variably valved four-cylinder engine, putting out 170 horsepower and 140 pound-feet of torque at 5,000 rpm. It’s got a great, brassy toot through its chrome-tipped dual exhausts. In a 2,500-pound roadster this is more than adequate power -- 0-60 mph arrives in about 6.5 seconds -- but green-light quick-draws are not what this car is about. The prevailing atman of the MX-5 is balance, that ineffable symmetry between weight distribution, grip, wheels and tires (and unsprung weight). Throwing more horsepower at the equation without dramatic overhauls of chassis, brakes, suspension, steering, and so on
will unseat the car’s sense of perfect calibration.
It’s inevitable that Mazda, through its Mazdaspeed tuning division, will offer a hotted-up version of the MX-5 (as it did with the last generation Miata). It’s just as inevitable that the car won’t be as roundly satisfying, even if it is quicker in a straight line. BMW kind of ruined the Z3 when it started stuffing oversized mills under the hood. Mazda risks the same with the MX-5. Pontiac and Saturn have already crossed the line with their supercharged versions of the Solstice/Sky.
Such efforts are surprisingly blind to these cars’ fundamental appeal: There’s something charming and accessible about a slow car that feels fast -- as generations of British sports-car lovers would tell you. An MX-5 is every bit as entertaining to drive as a 500-hp Mustang, but doesn’t involve nearly so many attorney fees.
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2007 Mazda MX-5 Miata retractable hardtop
Base price: $24,945
Price, as tested: $28,000 (est.)
Powertrain: 2.0-liter, dual-overhead cam inline four-cylinder with variable valve timing; six-speed manual transmission; rear-wheel drive.
Horsepower: 170 at 6,700 rpm
Torque: 140 pound-feet at 5,000 rpm
Curb weight: 2,575 pounds
0-60 mph: 6.5 seconds
Wheelbase: 91.7 inches
Overall length: 157.3 inches
EPA fuel economy: 24 miles per gallon city, 30 mpg highway
Final thoughts: Elf in a hard hat
