I woke up this morning with something bothering me. Maybe the RX-8 naysayers were right. Maybe I bought a slow, inefficient automotive stopgap that only existed until Mazda brought back the Turbo Sevens of yore. Could it be true?

I’m not at all upside down on the RX8 loan, so I could be out of it and into something else at any time. I drove my little Wankel down to the Mitsubishi dealer and settled my **** into the leather-covered Recaro of a 2005 Evo VIII. A salesman came out promptly, handed me the keys and invited me for a drive.

Wow, that’s a heavy clutch, I thought. And gosh, the engagement is really high in the travel. So high that I inadvertently launched the car a little harder than I intended.

A little chirp of the tires, an intake noise like any other four cylinder then WEEEEEEE the turbo spooled and the car did its absolute best to become one with the horizon. Clutch in (still damn heavy), pull that lever into second – gosh, that’s a bit notchy isn’t it? Clutch out, foot back on floor, intake noise, turbo spool then OH MY GOD THIS THING IS FAST. Red light. Red light! Red light!! On the brakes hard enough to lock the seatbelt tensioners. Whoa. The Brembos work.

We run out of road before I get to see if that same violent thrust was available in third (I think it is safe to assume it was).

Under way again. First hard right is approaching. I’ve heard good things about this car, so I decide I’ll trust it. I turn in hard while trail-braking slightly. I nail the throttle just before the apex and let the car figure it all out. Quite confident that I should have confused it, I was more then surprised when the car simply griped, spooled and hurtled me toward the next stoplight.

Huh.

Maybe I will buy one of these today.

The car and I take turns beating on each other. I give it one to the head, it gives me one back. I stand on the brakes and the car stops. Hard. I try to get it all ***-backwards by totally fudging lines into corners and doing nothing to correct my mistakes but stomping on the gas. The car is having none of it. It simply goes around the bend and at a speed that it simply has no right to given the sloppy line.

I get out excited, tired and very impressed. I tell the sales manager that I’m still thinking about it, but that I loved the car. He said he’d sell me one any time I liked and to come back if I got the itch.

I walked back to my RX8 which looked small, low and lithe next to the butch Evo. I got in and noticed that the pedals, shifter and wheel were exactly where they should be. The clutch is light and the shifter is simply the best of any car I’ve been in.

I head back to my office staring over the long, low hood of the ‘8 and noticing its profile in office building windows. It’s a pretty car. I play the rotary's velvet chainsaw soundtrack from my huge GReddy pipes. From in here, the ‘8 evokes a sense of occasion that the Evo doesn’t. The ‘8 feels special. Like Sony’s My First Exotic.

After driving such a brutal car as the Evo, I expect to be disappointed by the ‘8’s relative lack of outright speed. A well-launched Altima 3.5 might win a stoplight grand prix for god’s sake! Instead, I find myself wowed by my car’s willingness to dance.

Where the Evo likes it rough, the RX-8 is more compliant. It turns when and how you want without ever a complaint or comment. Where the Evo was violent, the RX-8 is sublime. I also notice that I’m traveling at nearly the same speed as I was in the Evo but working far less hard at it.

Those that don’t get the RX-8 probably never will. The car is simply fantastic – far more than the sum of its parts or numbers on a spec sheet.

There’s no way I’m giving it up for an Evo… yet.


Modified by Rennwagen at 11:39 PM 7-5-2005