2004 Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder GTS - A Lovely Way to Start the Day!

I had a feeling something was wrong when my wife called me the other day just as she was getting to her job at the Cleveland Clinic.  

"Water is pouring out from under my car!", she said, rather frantically. 

"Are you safe?", I asked. 

"Yes", she replied sternly. "I'm in the parking garage". 

Trying my best to remain calm so as to not exacerbate her stress I asked, "ummm...did you notice if the temperature gauge was in the red?" 

"What!? Are you kidding me?!", she replied. "YES! It was pinned on H."

Concerned the engine was irreparably or not cost effectively damaged, I paused a moment before asking, "Do you know how long it was on H?" 

"Oh my God! I have no idea!" she said.

Lovely way to start the day. 

It's not like I hadn't noticed something was amiss prior to that calamitous morning, but when I mentioned to her that the engine was making the same noise it made when our mechanic diagnosed a bad timing belt tensioner, when he was doing work on the air conditioning about a month after he replaced the timing belt, water pump and tensioner, she poo-pooed my observation good naturedly accusing me of being an alarmist. Can't say I blame her seeing how slim the possibilities had to be the same thing could happen again. 

I sort of half-mindedly back burner-ed calling him about it but, I swear, your honor it was on my to do list. 

So, two-, maybe three-weeks later the water pump failed, hence the tsunami of anti-freeze on the garage floor at The Clinic. Was it related to the sound I heard? Honestly, I don't know but what a coincidence if it wasn't. 

After we had it towed it out to our mechanic, he replaced the water pump, timing belt and tensioner, again. Keep in my on these frisky 3.0-liter, SOHC, 24-valve Mitsubishi engines, it's a big, knuckle-buster of a job. Bless his heart, he didn't charge us anything, Frankly, he shouldn't have but I, for one, felt bad for him. 

I'm not sure why my wife insisted on driving this 2004 Mitsubishi Eclipse as her "daily" for as long as she did. Frugality? Guilt because I drive a "Dave Ramsey Car" too? To her credit, she claimed to really like it; I couldn't stand the damn thing and I regretted the purchase almost from the day I drove it home in the fall of 2021. I can't tell you how many times I pleaded with her for us to get rid of it. 

We bought it, technically, as a replacement for my rusting, long-in-the-grille, 2002 Dale Earnhardt Chevrolet Monte Carlo SS. Seemed like a solid purchase at the time. Only had 60,000-miles on it, not a spec of rust anywhere, and Japanese quality, right? Sure, the interior needed some work, which I took care of, but all in, seemed we done good. Real good. Well, that's what we thought at first. 

However, when I discovered it required premium gas, got worse mileage than the Dale did, and I found the car uncomfortable—with the interminable drone of road noise that came with it being a convertible—it made no sense as a long-haul, 200-miles round trip, commuter car. Yup, that's my haul to and from the office. Please. I know. 

All that, and the damn "SERVICE ENGINE SOON" light was on for most of the time we owned it, always requiring a four- to five-hundred-dollar credit card swipe to fix something wrong with the emissions system. I kid that the SERVICE ENGINE SOON light should have been a dollar sign instead.

The upside? It was surprisingly quick and nimble, if you blurred your vision somewhat it could pass as a poor man's Porsche Boxster. If you like such things, it was a convertible; something we rarely took advantage of, though.

When we sold my wife's 1995 Lexus SC400, that had developed an annoying and undiagnosable stalling problem, and we pulled out of a deal on 2015 Lexus RC350 (long boring story), this became my wife's daily driver. And, again, she claimed to love what she referred to as "her little scooter."

A little scooter that grew increasingly problematic as it got older and the miles piled on. So much for Japanese quality. I came to find out that Mitsubishi's aren't Toyota's or Honda's. 

Believing we were being financially prudent, once it became my wife's daily, we poured a relative fortune into it about 18-months ago. In addition to the aforementioned timing belt and water pump; we also had the valve-cover gaskets replaced—which is another massive job on this car, the radiator replaced—and had multiple repairs made to the air-conditioning system. All repairs above and beyond my knowledge base.

Once we got it back, though, since it left her stranded, her tune about her little scooter changed. Suffering from an automotive PTSD of sorts from the near-catastrophic breakdown, it could have been worse, the engine did overheat and it could have been toast which, somewhat amazingly if not disappointingly so,  she still loved her little scooter, but the trust was gone. 

She insisted I sell it and replace it with something newer—or at least significantly less old. And as quickly as possible.

Which, naturally, I did, although I don't know what was more stressful: dealing with a breakdown of the wife's car or shopping together for a car for her.

1968 Ford Ranch Wagon Custom 500 - Brittany Blue

 

Amazing what you find when you're not looking for it. Probably since the day I started this blog, I've been searching for a 1968 Ford Ranch Wagon in "Brittany Blue" just like the one I grew up with. While this one I found on Haggerty's auction site is a bit fancier "Custom 500" than my father's car was, all things being equal, this is the same car of my woe begotten "wonder years". 

Let's swing open or pull down her "Magic Tailgate", kick the "poverty" hubcaps and take this memory machine for a figurative drive down memory lane. 

First, some context as I attempt to see this car again through my then six-year-old, car-obsessed eyes. 

Late summer of 1970, I was thrilled to learn the "block was cracked" on my father's 1961 Rambler Classic, four-door sedan. While I didn't know what that meant, all I needed to know was we were getting rid of the damn Rambler and we were getting a "new", or "new-to-us", "new car". 

Long story short, my father picked up a literal rental grade 1968 Ford Ranch Wagon from a Hertz' used car lot not far from Kennedy Airport to replace it. I can still hear this impossible to baton down properly spare tire banging around behind it's plastic cover. 

Suffice to say I was disappointed and in more ways than one. Not only was I not thrilled with the dreary, featureless, utilitarian to a fault Ford wagon, but I was more upset my father bought it without consulting with me about it. 

Yes, I was all of six-years-old but still. Then again, my father was clueless when it came to stereotypical, father son bonding. We never played catch in the yard let alone go car shopping together. 

Knowing my father, he did what was most convenient and bought the first car he saw that fit whatever price point he was comfortable with. He rented from Hertz out at Kennedy Airport often as he traveled frequently for his job, they had a used car lot selling off some of their rentals and, voila. He bought a station wagon.  I doubt he even consulted with my mother about it. 

Back in the 1960's and 1970's, station wagons were big business for The Big Three.  For 1968, Ford sold seven different iterations of their full-size models, but they also sold intermediate- and compact-wagons. Note from this Ford sales brochure, "Ranch Wagon" is at the bottom of the wagon totem. 

The piece de resistance on this car, though, are these fold-down, "facing" rear jump seats; the stuff of prepubescent kid dreams back in the day. These non-removable seats increased passenger capacity up to, well, in theory anyway, ten people. For comparison's sake, the current Chevrolet Suburban has seating for up to nine. 

Fold the seats and rear seat down and you've got hauling capacity to rival a pickup truck. In my father's car, there were metal panels that opened and closed north-south giving access to a cavernous, subterranean trunk; in my father's car, a trunk loaded with sandbags to help give it at least some modicum of traction in winter. 

Owing to the ala carte nature of the way these cars could be optioned, this car is a bit an oddity. For instance, it has a column mounted three-speed manual, the proverbial three-on-the-tree that even by 1968 was increasingly rare; my dad's car had an automatic. Also, as we get under the hood, appears this car also lacks power-steering that my father's car had as well. 

Then again, my father's car had been a rental, Hertz no doubt wanted a car as accessible to the masses as possible. 

Like my father's car, this one has the new-for-1968, 302-cubic-inch Windsor V-8; I don't see a power steering pump. Smooth and torquey, my father, who was not a car guy, loved its power and, sign-of-the-times, thought the 17-miles-per-gallon highway it got the pinnacle of thriftiness. 

Adding to my verklempt was that the family across the street from us had a 1968 Ford Country Squire loaded with every accouterment on the options list. You name it, it had it. Including pie-in-the-sky air conditioning, a hedonistic option given that my parents didn't own even a single window air conditioner. We roughed it with these side-vent windows that opened via a separate crank from the regular door window cranks. I can still smell my parents' cigar and cigarette smoke whirl winding through the car when these vents would be open. 

Bidding on this, last I checked was at $2,800. Despite its indirect history with me, I have little interest in it. Blame the three-on-three-tree, lack of power steering and these shot-to-pieces front seat covers that, I have to imagine, are impossible to find anything close to OEM for. My father's car's front seats were split like this as well. Note the lack of head rests; who's up for some whiplash?

I do love its patina which I hope whoever buys it keeps. 

Nope, I'll pass on this one and simply bask in the very mixed, bittersweet memories I have of my father's Ranch Wagon. Even to this day and at my age, I vacillate, either laughing or coming to near tears reminiscing about the misadventures my parents put my brothers and I through in their Ranch Wagon. 

As far as cars go from back then, the Ranch Wagon was fairly reliable. Sure, it had its issues, but it was no lemon. If I recall, though, forgive me, it's a been a minute, my mother believed the Ranch Wagon "beneath us"; ironic since she didn't drive. After seven-years of "slumming it" (her words), she put her foot down demanding my father buy her a Cadillac. Took a while but dutiful husband he was, more like a sycophant, he eventually did. 

2002 Ford Escort ZX2 - Image is Everything

 

Back around Christmastime 1999, albeit briefly, I considered buying a used 1998 Ford Escort ZX2 like this low-mileage 2002 that found me on Marketplace recently. For sale roughly 90 minutes east of The Triple Wide, it's got under 65,000 miles on it and an asking price of $3,400.

Faced with a sizeable commute back on traffic-clogged Long Island, I thought it would be the perfect fuel-efficient appliance to get me to and from the office, with a little under-the-radar fun while I was at it too.

With a notchy yet smooth-shifting 5-speed stick and a compliant clutch, it was easy to wring the most out of its 130-horsepower, DOHC, 16-valve, 2.0-liter engine. Handling was surprisingly good, too; these cars don't look anything like what they're capable of. This car has an automatic. 

Which is another reason I liked it: a sleeper of sorts, a car for an angel-faced altar boy like me who you'd want to keep the communion wine hidden from.

Ford first brought the Escort to the U.S. market for 1981, billing it as a sort of “world car” derived from the European "Erika" program and it quickly became a major player in Ford's small-car lineup; Mercury's version was called the Lynx. Replacing the Pinto at Ford and Bobcat at Mercury, the Escort quickly became one of the best-selling nameplates in the United States. In fact, the Escort was America's best-selling passenger car in 1982 and again in 1987 and 1988.

Our 2002 ZX2 here is part of the third and final generation of the North American Escort, which debuted for 1997. The ZX2 arrived for the 1998 model year. Taking a page or ten from the Taurus and Mercury Sable design playbook at the time, the ZX2 was the first Escort-based four-seat coupe; earlier Escort-based two-door coupes had included the two-seat EXP/Escort EXP. The ZX2 effectively replaced the Escort GT and occupied the sporty compact-coupe space left by the Ford Probe.

Sharing only its sideview mirrors and door handles with its four-door sedan stablemate, the ZX2 got special sport-suspension tuning and Ford's European-derived “Zetec” 2.0-liter, 16-valve DOHC inline-four, producing 130 horsepower.

Incidentally, the ZX2 name is commonly explained as “Z” for the Zetec engine, “X” for Generation X, and “2” for the two-door body. That's the generally accepted explanation, although Ford's own contemporary advertising played much more loosely with the name, famously saying it “means fun times two.”

Alright, so, back to why I passed on that ZX2.

Again, it was late in 1999 and the lease on my 1997 Chevrolet Monte Carlo was up. Fixing to get off the leasing merry-go-round, and while the buyout or balloon payment on the Monte was amenable—most times it's not—that number was higher than what the ZX2 was going for.

The ZX2 was a year newer, had less mileage on it, would be better on gas and was more fun to drive, too. So, why'd I pass on it?

Well, two reasons. First, to this day I've never been able to get my arms around its styling. Not being a fan of Ford's “jellybean” idiom at the time, I liked it even less on smaller canvases, despite the cars themselves being excellent drivers.

And also, because...he says, looking down to avoid eye contact, being a young and inexperienced manager at the time, I was concerned about what my staff would think of me and how well I was doing in my position if I drove an inexpensive economy car.

Image, as they say—or as the old Andre Agassi commercial for Canon's EOS Rebel camera said—is everything. As shallow as it may sound, there is a shred of truth to that sentiment when you're a manager.

If the boss, or whomever is in charge, is driving some cheapie car, what does that say about the operation everyone is working for? I'm not saying leadership has to drive a $150,000 BMW, but if they're driving something that does not sync with their perceived socio-economic zeitgeist, something's amiss.

Thus, I passed on the little ZX2 and bought out the lease on my Monte Carlo.

Safe to say I've grown a little wiser in my thirty-years as a manager. I'm not concerned what my staff thinks of me based on what I drive; have you seen what I drive currently? As a manager, it's most important to set the pace for your staff, be fair and be the hardest and smartest worker on your team; challenge your team to keep up with you. 

I still think it's somewhat important that a manager or leader drive something that's at least somewhat aspirational. Slippery slope, though. You drive something too aspirational and you could breed resentment.  

Ford phased out the Escort name after the 2002 model year, although the ZX2 continued as a standalone Ford model for 2003 before disappearing without a direct replacement. The 2003 ZX2 received a minor facelift and remained powered by the 130-horsepower 2.0-liter Zetec four.

1973 Mazda RX-2 - Poor Old Mike

Along with anything by Toyota or Honda, Mazdas were on a short list of vehicles I believed worthy of our test-drive time when my wife and I were shopping to replace her 2004 Mitsubishi Eclipse GTS Spyder recently. Notably, their CX-3, CX-30 and CX-5 crossovers and, car lover that I am, the Mazda3. While we ultimately ended up with a lovely 2021 Lexus NX300, I was impressed with the Mazdas. Their build quality seemed extraordinary, and they seemed downright luxurious, which was remarkable given their price points. Through each of our Mazda test drives, I couldn't help but be reminded of the little Mazda RX-2 coupe the family that shared our last name and lived across the street from us had in the late 1970s.

If you're not familiar with the RX-2, you're not alone. Mazda only sold the sub-compact car in the United States in two- and four-door versions from 1971 through 1974. This RX-2 I used for illustrative purpose is a 1972.

Contemporary road tests of the RX-2 were glowing. Testers admired its space-efficient, ergonomically well-designed interior as well as its more-than-competent road manners. In a day and age when Ford was selling Pintos and Chevrolet was pushing out Vegas, the RX-2 was a watershed. Where they dinged the RX-2 was on its fuel economy, but did that really matter when gas was 25- to 30-cents a gallon? 

I thought it odd at the time that they replaced their tank-like 1952 Pontiac Chieftain with the lilliputian RX-2. What's more, their RX-2 it was yellow, making it look even smaller, whereas their big old Pontiac was an austere black, just like this one. Mike and Sally were considerably older than my fossilized parents, and I thought the Chieftain fit them perfectly. Those two sweet natured oldsters looked totally out of place in something not only so small, but so contemporary. 

However, back then, with the wounds of the 1973–74 OPEC oil embargo still fresh, plenty of people were swapping their big, heavy gas guzzlers for something more economical. Many found themselves in well-built, supposedly gas-sipping Japanese cars, just as Mike and Sally did.

While certainly better on gas than their Pontiac Chieftain's straight-eight likely managed, the RX-2's rotary—or "Wankel"—engine was compact, lightweight and turbine-smooth, but also surprisingly thirsty. The U.S.-market RX-2 used Mazda's 1.2-liter, two-rotor 12A engine, its prodigious performance coming with a fuel-economy penalty that became increasingly difficult to ignore as gasoline prices rose.

Although Mazda entered into a technical cooperation agreement with NSU/Wankel in 1961, it didn't actually begin selling a rotary-powered production car until 1967, when the Cosmo Sport (above) was introduced. 

The company subsequently brought the rotary-powered R100 to the United States in 1970, followed by the RX-2 in 1971.

When I was a kid, Wankels were all the rage and seemed destined to replace conventional piston engines. They were compact and lightweight and, because of the way rotary-engine displacement is measured, offered impressive power for their nominal displacement. My older brother, who wasn't a car guy but knew I was, gave me one of these Wankel rotary engines model kits for Christmas in what had to be 1973 or 1974. 

General Motors was so enamored of the concept that it planned to use its own Wankel in several small cars, initially targeting the Chevrolet Vega and later the new-for-1975 Chevrolet Monza. American Motors, in fact, designed its Pacer around the compact dimensions of a rotary engine and initially intended to source the engine from GM.

Everything was fine at GM—until it wasn't. Engineers struggled to make the Wankel meet increasingly stringent U.S. emissions requirements while also delivering acceptable fuel economy and durability. By 1974, GM had canceled its rotary program. That left AMC, which had gone a long way down the development pipeline with the Pacer, in a bit of a pickle. AMC ultimately had to redesign the Pacer's drivetrain and engine compartment to accommodate its conventional straight-six engines.

In addition to emissions and fuel-economy challenges, Wankel engines became notorious for problems involving their apex seals—the seals at the tips of the rotors that help maintain compression against the inside surface of the rotor housing. Wear or damage to those seals could result in loss of compression, reduced performance and difficult starting.

Back to my old stomping grounds and Mike and Sally and their funky-sounding, Wankel-powered RX-2: they didn't keep it long. While they bought their Chieftain new in 1952 and had it for more than a quarter-century, they only had the RX-2 for a year or so. Mike loved its handling and, in his words, its "snazzy" interior, but was wholly unimpressed with its fuel economy. Bad fuel economy was the Wankel's dirty little secret, as it were.

Seeking fuel-economy nirvana, poor old Mike replaced the RX-2 with a two-door 1979 Oldsmobile Cutlass powered by a diesel engine.