I’ve been going back and forth about selling my VR-4 for over six months now, and tonight I’ve finally come to a decision: I’m selling it. It’s expensive, it’s got a host of quirky and annoying problems, and it’s never going to be a real track or race car. I realize now that I’ve put 5 years and probably over $20,000 dollars into a car that’s the antithesis of my attitude towards cars. It’s a sentimental object, plain and simple, and I don’t want to be one of those car guys that just hangs on to ridiculous project cars because they can’t bear to see their hours and years of work drive away.
You would think that mechanics and tinkerers would be hard and objective by nature. We work with tools and metal after all, not books and fairy dust. We turn wrenches, use torches, cut things with saws, and shower with Fast Orange. How would we ever hold on to a car as if it was some heartfelt trinket?
My VR-4 is a money pit. A set of wheels and tires—which it desperately needs—is over a thousand dollars. The turbo that I need to finally finish the power upgrades and actually use my propane injection (itself a $300 investment that I’ve never used), is $500. Suspension? At this point my car probably needs fresh parts there too, so add on another grand. And on and on—all for a car that’s too heavy and awkward for me to throw around a track.
Tossable it’s not. I have more fun these days ripping my $1000 shitbox Protégé around a track (as you regular readers know). I don’t worry about crashing that car, of seeing all my work reduced to a wadded-up hulk in a tire wall. Not that I’d crash the VR-4 anyway. I’m too timid to run full boost at the track, and the limits are higher than the limit of my courage. Plus, I’m committed to getting into some SCCA competition. That means a Miata, not a 2-ton 400hp smelly beast.
And let’s not be led to believe that my VR-4 is a pillar of uniqueness and innovation either. Sure, it may have some internet forum fame. It was one of the first 3000GTs to have fully custom brake lines and an adjustable proportioning valve in the center console. It was the test car for the manual steering rack. But in the grand scheme of automotive customization and performance modification, my VR-4 is more stock than it is modified.
So what is the VR-4. It’s my first engine rebuild. It’s my first foray into transmission internals, brake pad testing, and track driving. And it’s nice and red, which I’ll admit is preferable to the faded tan (with black touch-ups) of the Protégé. That’s all. I’ve been holding on to a car for this?
I could sell it now and get maybe half what I put into it. But I’ll also get the satisfaction of knowing that I’m not one of those sentimental mechanics, one of those fools who’s always talking about the amazing car they have in their garage that never runs and is always almost done. Whether you’re a mechanic, a businessman, or an artist, sentimentality is a killer. Sentimentality is for birthday cards and Elizabeth Barrett Browning fans, not for me. The bulk of what I’ve written on this website over the past 2 years has been as anti-sentimental as can be: Drive a car that matches your interests. Don’t get suckered into loud exhausts and big power. Don’t underestimate the amusement value of a cheap, fun car like a Miata. And above all, don’t look at your car as a work of art. It’s a tool—a tool for getting you down the drag strip quicker, or around the road course faster, or through the dirt and trees better. It’s not your baby or part of your self. And now it’s time to follow my own rules. Time to hand over the keys to someone who can use my VR-4.
You know what—screw all that. I’m keeping it.
on May 15, 2009 at 8:37 am Alan wrote:
I come back and re-read this every few months. I love this post. When I first read it, I was having the exact same thoughts about my 1980 Mercedes 240D that I’d converted to vegetable oil. Replace “VR4″ with “240D” and “400 hp” with “60 hp” and you’ve basically got my situation at the time.
You also echo my basic philosophy to cars, and it became clear to me at the time that the 240D never fit my personal goals for a car or what makes me like cars in the first place. It was, however, the first major project I’d actually followed through on.
I remember showing this post to my girlfriend, and she asked if I’d been moonlighting at the Pansy Patrol.
I finally sold the 240D this month, though at a hefty loss. And it was this post that inspired me to start hunting for a Miata last year, a car I’ve always wanted.
The way you talk(ed) about your Protege was very much the way I thought of the various (Protege-based) Escorts I’ve owned — though I never actually got it out on a track, as much as I wanted to.
I bought a Miata in December, drove it through the winter, and started autocrossing it this season (on a set of R-compounds, even). I’ve never been happier about a car decision.
I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed the title of this post for the title of my blog. I don’t expect it’ll ever get much (if any) readership. It’s mostly for my own amusement.