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My short-but-sweet fling with a cheap Mazda MX-5

My short-but-sweet fling with a cheap Mazda MX-5

I love niche cars but a stint with a new MX-5 convinced me to go with the people's choice – for just £1500 I’ve always wanted my cars to be a bit different, which is why I bought a Fiat Coupé 20v a couple of years ago.  Above all else, it was interesting. However, six months of ownership taught me that ‘interesting’ doesn’t mean ‘great’. I found it nose-heavy and a total pain to work on. The cost and complexity didn’t reflect the enjoyment I got out of driving it, so it had to go. A few months after selling it, I borrowed an ND-shape, 1.5-litre Mazda MX-5 for a few weeks. The ever-popular MX-5 had always clashed with my ethos of buying cars that were different from the herd – but from the first country roads drive I did in it, I knew I had to have one. So that’s how I ended up buying a 1999 Mazda MX-5 S. It’s a pre-facelift NB, the prettiest generation in my eyes, with the 1.8-litre four-cylinder engine sending all 140bhp through a five-speed manual gearbox and - excitingly, in the wet – a Torsen differential. One month into ownership, I’m loving it. The handling is sublime and its tiny footprint makes threading it down country lanes a dream. There are a few bits that need sorting – the bodywork is in a pretty poor state (although structurally sound), the wheels are grim and there are ocean-liner levels of body roll – plus lots of mechanical and visual upgrades I’d like to do. But that’s all to come once I’ve enjoyed a few more miles in it. 5 February 2025: Cheap to buy – for a reason One of the reasons for buying my Mazda MX-5 was that I wanted something not only fun and a bit more characterful than most modern cars but also something a bit more solid-feeling than the Fiat Coupé that I had before. It may all be there in theory (sturdy manual gearbox, simple four-cylinder engine), but in practice my MX-5 has been brought down by the little things. I was enjoying a spirited roof-down drive when a cloud of steam began to escape from the bonnet. After pulling over as soon as possible with the temperature needle on the higher side of the range, it became apparent that it had overheated. What a shocker. The cause? The tube connecting the radiator to the coolant expansion tank had flown off, dumping all of the coolant away. Luckily, a friend could come to rescue me, bringing some Jubilee clips and a load of coolant, and we were able to get it home. A little bit of driveway disassembly revealed that the thermostat housing was cracked, with the thermostat itself in fairly dire straits. This discovery has left me with a dilemma. The beauty and the tragedy of my MX-5 was that it was wonderfully cheap, and replacing the thermostat housing requires taking off the head gasket - not the cheapest job and one that I’m too mechanically inept to do myself. Strangely, I haven’t missed driving my laid-up MX-5 too much. I think I’m just worried that something else will go wrong with the car the moment I sort it. I feel a ‘spares or repairs’ post is coming for MX-5 Facebook groups. 30 April 2025: The Mazda moves on The mighty Mazda MX-5 1.8 S has left the stable. I managed to get it up and running with fairly little outlay thanks to some driveway bodging, but I decided to sell it immediately after taking it for a drive. They say you always want what you can’t have, and I think that’s how I deal with cars. Far too often I enjoy the thought of driving my own cars more than the act itself. As an Autocar photographer, I'm a busy person and life really does get in the way – and that’s before you factor in fuel costs, suicidal deer and octogenarians refusing to go above 20mph. Not to say that the MX-5 was a bad car to drive. Quite the opposite, in fact: it was excellent. Revvy and superbly balanced, with steering so much greater than that of most cars of today. If you’ll excuse the cliché, it’s driving pleasure in its simplest form. Plus, with that limited-slip differential and some of the worst tyres I’ve ever used adorning the rear wheels, it was genuinely exciting at times (by which I mean I was convinced I was going to die every time I drove it in the wet). Mk2 MX-5s are currently – and rightly – in demand, and despite its flaws it was gone less than a day after being listed for sale. I am sort of missing it, but I think that’s just the aforementioned desire to be driving more than anything else. What’s next? Not sure, but a quick search tells me that Twin Spark Alfa Romeo GTVs aren’t a lot of money at the moment...

Beauty and the beast: Morgan Supersport vs Hyundai Ioniq 5 N

Beauty and the beast: Morgan Supersport vs Hyundai Ioniq 5 N

These performance cars have more in common than you might think These two cars are as disparate a pair as could be conceived...or are they? Morgan versus Hyundai: what’s in a number? The number 290, specifically. The number that got us thinking of this test. Wondering just what it would feel like to drive two cars that share a crucial performance metric yet celebrate opposing ends of the engineering scale. One a purist, lightweight creation of modern-deco design powered by piston and petrol. The other a brutalist performance masterpiece with four wheels driven by electric motors and software-orchestrated drama. To state the obvious, this is not a twin test in the conventional like-for-like comparative sense. Nobody is totting up the pros and cons of either a new Morgan Supersport or a Hyundai Ioniq 5 N , thinking to themselves: “Hmm, well, that one I can get the kids in, and it’s got windows that go up and down without having to remove them and put them in the boot. The other one, well, no on both counts.” But there’s still that number 290. Have you figured it out yet? I suspect you have, because there’s little in the way of performance measures that these two share, yet this is perhaps the most important metric of all when it comes to performance: the ratio of power to weight. That’s right: these two disparate marvels of modern motoring both present with 290bhp per tonne. Well, there or thereabouts. There’s a pony or two in it, if we’re going to be precise about these things – as we should be. The Hyundai weighs a fulsome 2235kg and has an output of 641bhp, for 287bhp per tonne. Treading rather more softly on the scales, it’s shocking to think the Morgan is in excess of a tonne lighter, weighing 1170kg at the kerb and with 335bhp of grunt from the BMW -sourced turbocharged inline six-cylinder engine. That works out at 286bhp per tonne for the Supersport, which, let’s reiterate, weighs roughly two whole Caterham Sevens less than the Hyundai. Yet, as I blatted my way through the Ioniq 5 N’s not-really-gears, the synthesised pop-pop-crackle of the not-really-overrun ringing through the cabin as I wound my way up to the car park to meet road tester Illya Verpraet with the Morgan , I got to thinking. Surely, in its own way the Hyundai has to be more full of shock and awe than the Morgan. The Supersport, yes, we should celebrate: it’s a festival of lightweight materials, classic proportions and all things that make us enthusiasts go dewy-eyed about yesteryear. But the Hyundai? The fanfare about this car isn’t because it exceeds the moderate expectations you might have of a battery-powered, high-roofed, 4.7m-long hatchback. Hit the right buttons in the Ioniq 5 N and it’s suddenly channelling the attitude and handling of a Nissan GT-R. It doesn’t accelerate; rather it detonates, flinging itself through the arcadia of the Welsh hills with the sort of forceful delight that is impossible to resist. Oh, what’s that you want? A 90deg corner with a bit of a tweak from the rear axle, plenty of drama and playfulness but none of the fright? Yes please, and thank you very much. But the Ioniq 5 N isn’t a blunt instrument. It feels alert and finger-tippy – and weirdly mechanical. It’s got the tactility to its controls, and the ebb and flow of responses from its powertrain and pedals that we know and love so well from combustion engine power. The Ioniq 5 N isn’t a car that has simply been overhyped because of low expectations: it is, in every possible way, a true driver’s delight. It really does have the same delicious, precision brutality that made Nissan’s ‘Godzilla’ a legend in its own lifetime, and the fact that it’s delivered in a plug-in family hatchback is, to my mind, only more reason to celebrate it. This is, without doubt, the extreme end of EV engineering capabilities. And it is flat-out remarkable. Stepping out of the Hyundai, still feeling somewhat emotional about how a lantern-jawed EV that touts a long warranty and low running costs among its merits can also invoke all the gods of laugh-out-loud, sweaty-palmed, wide-eyed ‘proper’ driving, I come face to face with the Morgan Supersport. It’s a svelte, bronzed, swooping confection that has delicious, Great Gatsby vibes to its planed and smoothed classic shape. There’s even a dash of steampunk to it, in the way it blends a futuristic, minimalist finish with gorgeously old-fashioned lines. You cannot mistake it for anything but a Morgan; you cannot mistake it for anything but modern. Well done, Malvern, this is how to do a fresh remake of a cherished classic. Carefully, subtly, yet thoroughly. That goes for the engineering too. After all, this is a bonded aluminium chassis with all the benefits of strength and weight-saving that such a platform brings, yet you can still open the small boot space (I know – a boot, on a Morgan!) to see and touch the wood used in the car’s body. You can even see where it has been hand-tooled, which I rather love. This is the magic of Morgan; it has always been the magic of Morgan. It’s not just a car: it’s a lifestyle. One from somewhere, or somewhen, about 60 or 70 years ago. We all know that, and the Supersport distils that essence even more. By the time I have slid into the bum-on-the-floor bucket seat, pointed the long stretch of bonnet skywards up the mountain and squeezed the throttle on that six-pot motor, I am signed up to the aforementioned lifestyle. That’s right: I’ve covered less than a mile and only half of the gear ratios, but I am 100% adamant that I now want to live in the 1950s and drive a Morgan every day. Get me a wicker basket, a tweed jacket, the optional limited-slip differential and Nitron dampers and call me Bunty. This is why cars are so miraculous. They can influence the way our fleshy brains feel about ourselves and our lives and the way we want to go about them. These transport devices don’t just transport us literally. They also transport metaphorically our thoughts and aspirations. I’ll say it: moments before I stepped into the Morgan, I was convinced that the Hyundai Ioniq 5 N was the greater engineering achievement. More divisive and not to all tastes, of course, but nonetheless a bastion of what can be done with propulsion technology that became (barely) mainstream 15 years ago, and a demonstration of the witchcraft that can make a 2.2-tonne car feel alert, reactive and engaging in the way of the best sports cars. As I said – not a better car, but the greater engineering achievement. But now? I’m not so sure. Of course, the Morgan is more conventional. And if you can imagine how far removed a low-slung, lightweight, cabin-aft sports car feels from a high-set, copiously powerful EV, well – it feels just that removed in practice. In fact, the driving position is arguably the greatest adjustment. While the Supersport has decent visibility even with its hard top on, the way you sit low over the rear wheels and are conscious of having so much bonnet ahead of you is the thing that feels most otherworldly after the Hyundai. Not the powertrain at all but the sense that the axis on which the car spins is far ahead of you is what characterises how the Morgan drives. In the Ioniq 5 N, by way of distinct and very obvious contrast, you are smack in the centre of the axles so the car’s mass pivots directly around you. Neither set-up is right or wrong, good or bad. The joy is that both are so unutterably brilliant in such gloriously opposing ways. Is the Morgan even more communicative and responsive than the Hyundai? Of course it is. The steering has a silky build of weight that’s surprisingly light and appropriate for low-speed manoeuvres, yet it feels dialled in and weighty when you need it to. The engine delivers a deliciously flexible build of power. It sounds like a really excited metronome at idle, ticking away urgently. But on the move it surges keenly up the chrome-rimmed rev counter with the smooth howl of an inline engine echoing around you. Is it as explosively fast as the Hyundai? No. Do I care? No, again. It’s still bloody fast. And you can keep your 0-62mph times too; I shall not bear witness to them here, because they are irrelevant to this celebration of these gloriously disparate and bonkers-brilliant bookends of today’s performance cars. The Morgan Supersport is everything you want from an analogue car. Okay – maybe a manual ’box. That’s an argument for another article. I am perfectly happy with the ZF eight-speed auto and how it goes about things, and that’s enough said. I honestly can’t imagine a better embodiment of a modern Morgan – or a modern British roadster – than this. From the grandeur of its styling and the weirdly endearing quirks of a car that has removable windows, chrome sliders for door handles and bare wood on show, to the modern, precisely tuned handling and performance that make it feel every bit a true performance car of 2025, every detail is achingly emotive. The Hyundai is not as emotive as the Morgan. Not in the same way. Maybe that’s because it’s also a car you could easily use as your everyday driver, one that doesn’t demand a certain level of compromise in the name of its eccentricities. Even so, I have spent a lot of time with the Ioniq 5 N, living with it on a daily basis and testing it on road and track, and it is every bit as much of an achievement and a driver’s car as the Morgan. I’ll say that again: it’s just as much of a driver’s car. Yeah. Stick that in your comments section. I would spend my own money on either of these cars. Or better still, if I had it, I would spend it on both. This test started on the basis of these cars being two wholly different ways of achieving the same metric of (very nearly…) 290bhp per tonne, and it’s safe to say that they feel just as different as you would expect, and they are just as brilliant. And yet Illya rocked up in the Morgan thinking this was some sort of two-car dream garage test – but that wasn’t the premise at all, as you know. Brake horsepower per tonne, and all that. But isn’t he right? Isn’t this one of the best two-car garages you could possibly conceive of? I certainly think so. So, there you have it: the engineering pinnacles of both the analogue and the digital. Both of them brushing the 290bhp-per-tonne mark that a few decades ago was the stamp of a full-blooded supercar. Whichever you may prefer – or if, like me, you relish both – aren’t we lucky to have these on our roads, today? What better duo to celebrate and represent what’s brilliant about the car in 2025.