Getting rid of...
Discussion
...my MR2 Turbo.
This is actually something I posted on the MR2 owners club, but allsorts of people seem to enjoy it, so where better to share it than pistonheads?
Wasn’t going to post this; but I can’t just let it sit on my hard disk…
It’s been a long time coming but finally the MR2 and I are parting company. There have been good times and bad. I’m not sure which were the most frequent. Probably the bad if I’m brutally honest. “Buy cheap, buy twice” and all that…
Nonetheless – it’s the good times that leave the lasting impression; memories made all the sweeter because I fixed the problems myself. There are drives, corners even, that I only need think of to get the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. In a world of Big Brother CCTV, road charging and speed cameras I often wonder if we’ll be the last generation able to genuinely enjoy these cars.
When one day in the distant future I tell my grandkids that I could get from 0-60 in less than six seconds in a melee of noise, tortured rubber and petrol fumes, will they be able to look forward to experiencing it themselves? We're certainly among the privileged few to experience sensations like this.
It’s something I once thought up after a few beers – of all the people ever to have lived, what tiny percentage have ever experienced the sensations that the MR2 offers? The unique balance to the handling, the raw anticipation in that moment when the car seems to tense and focus itself, a fraction of a second before surging forwards on a wave of boost? Only a few hundred years ago people thought your head would fall off if you went much above walking pace – what the hell would they make of a turbo?
Thoughts like these make it hard to part with the MR2. It’s a mass-produced object made of metal, plastic and leather – but I challenge any true enthusiast to climb out of theirs after a good drive and not look back at it as they walk away. Somehow the whole really is greater than the sum of the parts.
On one holiday I returned to our car park in a Mondeo. I’d been out for a meal and the MR2 was parked up for the night. I remember thinking then as it caught my eye from the shadows that “it’s only a car”, but the silhouette in that dark corner simply oozed purpose and menace. Even with the engine off and the components cold it seemed ready to go, eager for the open road.
It’s always been the devil on my shoulder, but it’s more than that as well. All those times when you’re sick of work, stressed, troubled in a relationship, whatever, the car is always there. In a matter of minutes you can be away from it all, howling through the countryside, free as a bird. You can’t stay down for long when you’re weaving between solid objects at a significant proportion of the Speed of Stupidity, particularly when you’re accelerating at a rate that’s sucking your stomach clean through your spine.
Now it’s the final drive. End of an Era.
I’m not one of those idiots that takes a car and rags it to within an inch of its life minutes before the new owner collects it, that’s a breach of trust and I would never do it; but I do want to enjoy my last trip.
She starts up with the usual bark, decat-exhaust mumbling and gurgling to itself on fast-idle as life and heat flows back into the machine. Pull the clutch up, the engine note drops with the load and the MR2 stretches its’ legs. Move away, off the drive, nose inches from the tarmac and head off up the road, exhaust note echoing off the houses, sunlight glaring off the freshly-washed paint. Catch a glimpse of the car gliding past in a neighbours’ window. It’s a dramatic scene even at this speed. Funny how you don’t appreciate these moments when they happen all the time.
When you’ve been test-driving other cars you notice things. You notice how sharp the controls in the MR2 really are. You notice the lack of mass or inertia, the electric response to your inputs, the near-total absence of body roll or pitch. The Mk1 may be the master at things like this, but people forget just how good the Mk2 is.
Open the throttle slightly off the next corner and revel in the surge of lazy thrust below 2,000rpm. Until I bought one I always assumed that the lag of a turbo car meant it would be sluggish unless it was fully wound up. I soon learnt that these things are relative. Just because the on-boost experience is astonishing doesn’t mean the off-boost response is anything less than a firm kick in the back.
Head right at the junction. The road dips on its’ way down to a 90-degree right hander. My minds’ eye pictures the car turning away from the viewer and disappearing down out of sight, exhaust rumble fading slowly.
Guide the front end through the sharp right hander and up the next hill. The housing estate drifts lazily by and gives way to an industrial area, then the wide, open spaces of Lincolnshire. Already several miles have been covered and the temperature gauge has woken up. It isn’t long before the needle nudges the half-way mark.
The countryside slides past outside, there’s a gentle breeze. Birds sing in the trees. Cows and sheep graze calmly, all is peaceful.
You just know it isn’t going to last…
The drive has taken me back to ‘genesis’. I bought this car near Guildford in Surrey. It was two weeks, over four hundred miles, before I dared begin to drive it properly. This is that road. That first real drive was two years ago.
Since that day the MR2 and I have become friends. The initial fear and mistrust caused by the cars’ reputation has been replaced over time as repeated experiments revealed deeper and deeper abilities; limits wider and higher than I’d ever dared to dream. Now the overriding feelings are of respect and excitement.
We make a final 90-degree turn and pull to a halt at the start of a long straight. For a moment the car sits there, bathed in the sunlight, heat haze pouring from the engine vents, while I run through a mental map of the road ahead.
First gear engages and I take a deep breath – concentration building. The revs start to rise, a slow and steady increase towards launch. One of my favourite songs is playing in the background. The instrumental begins, and a split second before the song really kicks in I release the clutch.
200+ BHP hits the drivetrain in one mighty shockwave. The car steps left – back end tracking slightly with the surface even as the MR2 slams forwards, riding the absolute limit of grip right up the rev range, then doing it all over again as second gear snaps home. Third engages and the ‘2 settles down, diverting all of it’s energy to the pursuit of building serious speed.
At the end of the straight the road gets serious, twists and turns combining with crests and dips; the MR2 is un-phased, falling easily into a fast, fluid rhythm – always seeming to be one step ahead of anything the road throws at it.
Several seconds before I see it I can tell there’s a car ahead, the faint odour of diesel causing a flicker in some remote part of my brain. The ‘2 closes on the back of it like a stalking animal, and the reason for the diesel smell becomes clearly apparent. This guy is on the ragged edge, late on the brakes, hard on the throttle with the suspension working desperately to keep the mass of the car in check, despite his wild steering inputs. It takes three open bends before the MR2 noses inside his smoke trail, closing to within strike distance on the tight fourth corner. I’m honestly not sure if he ever saw me; at least before the move.
Indicators wink, cogs shift and the throttle opens wide.
With all the hallmarks of a true predator the MR2 leaps, engine spooling through third gear with the same sense of bottomless power you get from a gas turbine. It’s as if the taxi suddenly stalled. The MR2 simply steps past, easily within itself, it’s natural flow barely disrupted.
A quick look in the rear view reveals a set of freshly-widened eyes, but then he’s gone, swallowed by the next corner. Hopefully he’s pausing to reflect on just how he was driving; and how pointless the risk ultimately was… If your car wasn’t built for spirited driving – don’t do it!
Fortunately, mine was…
The remainder of the drive takes in some of Lincolnshires’ finest hidden treasures. Roads that cut through perfectly flat open fields with miles of visibility, yet for some unknown reason curve and writhe like snakes in a basket. They’re perfect for the ‘2. If you’re anything like me then every time you set out for a random drive, this is what you’re seeking.
A fair while later I return home, having exhausted the cars’ supply of V-power. The MR2 reverses into the garage and the door slides shut, the occasional ‘clink’ of cooling metal reaching through the barrier. A wall of non-descript white paint separates me from the drama and excitement that surrounds the MR2.
Next time it emerges from that garage the MR2 will have three things. Brightly polished paint, working air conditioning, and a price tag…
Not for the first time I wonder if this is the right thing to do, but I can’t really help it now.
Unless the test drive is a total disaster I’m buying a Subaru Impreza tomorrow.
This is actually something I posted on the MR2 owners club, but allsorts of people seem to enjoy it, so where better to share it than pistonheads?
Wasn’t going to post this; but I can’t just let it sit on my hard disk…
It’s been a long time coming but finally the MR2 and I are parting company. There have been good times and bad. I’m not sure which were the most frequent. Probably the bad if I’m brutally honest. “Buy cheap, buy twice” and all that…
Nonetheless – it’s the good times that leave the lasting impression; memories made all the sweeter because I fixed the problems myself. There are drives, corners even, that I only need think of to get the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. In a world of Big Brother CCTV, road charging and speed cameras I often wonder if we’ll be the last generation able to genuinely enjoy these cars.
When one day in the distant future I tell my grandkids that I could get from 0-60 in less than six seconds in a melee of noise, tortured rubber and petrol fumes, will they be able to look forward to experiencing it themselves? We're certainly among the privileged few to experience sensations like this.
It’s something I once thought up after a few beers – of all the people ever to have lived, what tiny percentage have ever experienced the sensations that the MR2 offers? The unique balance to the handling, the raw anticipation in that moment when the car seems to tense and focus itself, a fraction of a second before surging forwards on a wave of boost? Only a few hundred years ago people thought your head would fall off if you went much above walking pace – what the hell would they make of a turbo?
Thoughts like these make it hard to part with the MR2. It’s a mass-produced object made of metal, plastic and leather – but I challenge any true enthusiast to climb out of theirs after a good drive and not look back at it as they walk away. Somehow the whole really is greater than the sum of the parts.
On one holiday I returned to our car park in a Mondeo. I’d been out for a meal and the MR2 was parked up for the night. I remember thinking then as it caught my eye from the shadows that “it’s only a car”, but the silhouette in that dark corner simply oozed purpose and menace. Even with the engine off and the components cold it seemed ready to go, eager for the open road.
It’s always been the devil on my shoulder, but it’s more than that as well. All those times when you’re sick of work, stressed, troubled in a relationship, whatever, the car is always there. In a matter of minutes you can be away from it all, howling through the countryside, free as a bird. You can’t stay down for long when you’re weaving between solid objects at a significant proportion of the Speed of Stupidity, particularly when you’re accelerating at a rate that’s sucking your stomach clean through your spine.
Now it’s the final drive. End of an Era.
I’m not one of those idiots that takes a car and rags it to within an inch of its life minutes before the new owner collects it, that’s a breach of trust and I would never do it; but I do want to enjoy my last trip.
She starts up with the usual bark, decat-exhaust mumbling and gurgling to itself on fast-idle as life and heat flows back into the machine. Pull the clutch up, the engine note drops with the load and the MR2 stretches its’ legs. Move away, off the drive, nose inches from the tarmac and head off up the road, exhaust note echoing off the houses, sunlight glaring off the freshly-washed paint. Catch a glimpse of the car gliding past in a neighbours’ window. It’s a dramatic scene even at this speed. Funny how you don’t appreciate these moments when they happen all the time.
When you’ve been test-driving other cars you notice things. You notice how sharp the controls in the MR2 really are. You notice the lack of mass or inertia, the electric response to your inputs, the near-total absence of body roll or pitch. The Mk1 may be the master at things like this, but people forget just how good the Mk2 is.
Open the throttle slightly off the next corner and revel in the surge of lazy thrust below 2,000rpm. Until I bought one I always assumed that the lag of a turbo car meant it would be sluggish unless it was fully wound up. I soon learnt that these things are relative. Just because the on-boost experience is astonishing doesn’t mean the off-boost response is anything less than a firm kick in the back.
Head right at the junction. The road dips on its’ way down to a 90-degree right hander. My minds’ eye pictures the car turning away from the viewer and disappearing down out of sight, exhaust rumble fading slowly.
Guide the front end through the sharp right hander and up the next hill. The housing estate drifts lazily by and gives way to an industrial area, then the wide, open spaces of Lincolnshire. Already several miles have been covered and the temperature gauge has woken up. It isn’t long before the needle nudges the half-way mark.
The countryside slides past outside, there’s a gentle breeze. Birds sing in the trees. Cows and sheep graze calmly, all is peaceful.
You just know it isn’t going to last…
The drive has taken me back to ‘genesis’. I bought this car near Guildford in Surrey. It was two weeks, over four hundred miles, before I dared begin to drive it properly. This is that road. That first real drive was two years ago.
Since that day the MR2 and I have become friends. The initial fear and mistrust caused by the cars’ reputation has been replaced over time as repeated experiments revealed deeper and deeper abilities; limits wider and higher than I’d ever dared to dream. Now the overriding feelings are of respect and excitement.
We make a final 90-degree turn and pull to a halt at the start of a long straight. For a moment the car sits there, bathed in the sunlight, heat haze pouring from the engine vents, while I run through a mental map of the road ahead.
First gear engages and I take a deep breath – concentration building. The revs start to rise, a slow and steady increase towards launch. One of my favourite songs is playing in the background. The instrumental begins, and a split second before the song really kicks in I release the clutch.
200+ BHP hits the drivetrain in one mighty shockwave. The car steps left – back end tracking slightly with the surface even as the MR2 slams forwards, riding the absolute limit of grip right up the rev range, then doing it all over again as second gear snaps home. Third engages and the ‘2 settles down, diverting all of it’s energy to the pursuit of building serious speed.
At the end of the straight the road gets serious, twists and turns combining with crests and dips; the MR2 is un-phased, falling easily into a fast, fluid rhythm – always seeming to be one step ahead of anything the road throws at it.
Several seconds before I see it I can tell there’s a car ahead, the faint odour of diesel causing a flicker in some remote part of my brain. The ‘2 closes on the back of it like a stalking animal, and the reason for the diesel smell becomes clearly apparent. This guy is on the ragged edge, late on the brakes, hard on the throttle with the suspension working desperately to keep the mass of the car in check, despite his wild steering inputs. It takes three open bends before the MR2 noses inside his smoke trail, closing to within strike distance on the tight fourth corner. I’m honestly not sure if he ever saw me; at least before the move.
Indicators wink, cogs shift and the throttle opens wide.
With all the hallmarks of a true predator the MR2 leaps, engine spooling through third gear with the same sense of bottomless power you get from a gas turbine. It’s as if the taxi suddenly stalled. The MR2 simply steps past, easily within itself, it’s natural flow barely disrupted.
A quick look in the rear view reveals a set of freshly-widened eyes, but then he’s gone, swallowed by the next corner. Hopefully he’s pausing to reflect on just how he was driving; and how pointless the risk ultimately was… If your car wasn’t built for spirited driving – don’t do it!
Fortunately, mine was…
The remainder of the drive takes in some of Lincolnshires’ finest hidden treasures. Roads that cut through perfectly flat open fields with miles of visibility, yet for some unknown reason curve and writhe like snakes in a basket. They’re perfect for the ‘2. If you’re anything like me then every time you set out for a random drive, this is what you’re seeking.
A fair while later I return home, having exhausted the cars’ supply of V-power. The MR2 reverses into the garage and the door slides shut, the occasional ‘clink’ of cooling metal reaching through the barrier. A wall of non-descript white paint separates me from the drama and excitement that surrounds the MR2.
Next time it emerges from that garage the MR2 will have three things. Brightly polished paint, working air conditioning, and a price tag…
Not for the first time I wonder if this is the right thing to do, but I can’t really help it now.
Unless the test drive is a total disaster I’m buying a Subaru Impreza tomorrow.
Stu R said:
Nice write up mate. It's never nice knowing the sale of the car is pending, almost feels morally wrong like you're selling on a pet or a member of the family when you become so attached to them, but it seems you're chuffed with the scoob so change isn't always a bad thing.
Totally agree with the pet comment Stu!Which is why the MR2 is still sat outside...
Really should sell it soon.
_Al_ said:
RobCrezz said:
Awesome. Really makes me want to get a MR2 Turbo.
Hmm Im 23 and ill have 3 yrs NCB(and 3 points) in january... I wonder how much the insurance will be...
I'm 26, full NCB, 6,000 miles/yr, business use and my Dad on the policy. £590.Hmm Im 23 and ill have 3 yrs NCB(and 3 points) in january... I wonder how much the insurance will be...
Fidgits said:
havent read the whole write up - but id be interested to your asking price 
lol - you really wouldn't. The poor thing has seen far better days! Do yourself a favour and buy a post 1994 model turbo. A better car in every respect - so I hear. 
Edited by _Al_ on Thursday 23 August 00:41
Fidgits said:
havent read the whole write up - but id be interested to your asking price
Told you so. Tried to start it today (only two weeks since its' last drive) and was rewarded with a lot of gurgling, an eventual start, two stalls and a biiiiiig cloud of blue smoke.
Going on ebay as a project car methinks...
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