Update: The hood release is broken, third gear is hard to find quickly, tach doesn’t work, needs motor mounts, and the climate temp knob spins freely and puts out warm air.

It’s a turbo, but since the hood won’t open I don’t have any photos to identify what’s been modified. “Stock fuel pump” is written on one of the boxes, as well as “stock radiator hoses,” so I’m guessing those two have been updated. Not sure if these ever had a blow off valve or not. This one does.

It’s clean, but the paint on the front bumper/headlights is a little rough.

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...and it chirps second.

Pro tip: If you take an old license plate and make it look like it was on the car during a sloppy paint job, you can’t see the expiration dates on the stickers.

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It’s pretty good that this, tho.


PREVIOUS POST

I get a call from Ginger, my 30 year old neighbor shortly before 9:00PM last night. He asks if I’m still awake. I paused for a second and told him that in spite of being 47 I was suprisingly able to summon up enough energy to go outside and open a beer with our other neighbors, but thanks for asking..

He says he needs a ride home, as he’s currently walking home from a few miles away. I ask what happened, and he said he would explain when I picked him up. I figure it was car trouble and he was desperate, since I’m probably at least the fourth or fifth person he would call for something like this.

Because of the sleeping comment, and the fact that I was only half-way through my beer, I decided I was going to finish my beer/conversation before I went to go get him.

As I was walking across the street to get my keys/wallet 10 minutes later, his wife/nanny/kids come home. I say hi, and mention that I’m getting ready to go pick up her husband. She rolls her eyes and said. “Where is he?” I told her where he was walking, she sent the kids/nanny inside, and she went off to get him.

Now off the hook, I went back across the street, opened another beer, and continued hanging out.

10 minutes later, they get home. She walks inside, and he walks across the street, briefcase in hand, shaking his head.

Ginger has a friend in the military that is currently deployed, and G.I. wanted Ginger to pick up a car he was getting ready to purchase in Maryland (30-40 min away) Ginger said yes, G.I. sent Ginger a cashier’s check, and he went after work today to go pick it up.

Right away, this story is starting to sound like a bad craigslist episode. We keep listening.

GI just bought a FD RX7 sight unseen online, and it came with a “box of parts” Ginger (who is not a car guy at all) was expecting a box, not a pile of bulky parts. He didn’t think there was any way to fit all this crap in the car, but the seller managed to squeeze it all in there.

Then come the pre-flight instructions from the seller. The instructions included hits like, “Make sure you really slam the door, it sometimes doesn’t close,” “If it starts to run poorly in traffic, just rev it to keep it running.” etc…

Before taking off, Ginger asks if the AC works. Nope.

Before taking off, Ginger asks if the car has license plates. Nope.

Ginger (who probably has never purchased a private party car) is now pissed and asks “How am I supposed to get this thing home?” The seller hands him a piece of paper to put in the window that says “IN TRANSIT.” Ginger laughs at the suggestion, and decided to take his chances anyways, since he used public transportation/UBER to get to the seller’s home.

He got the car most of the way home in sweaty rush hour traffic with a bad idle, open registration, and no license plates. Then at dusk he realized the pop-up headlights don’t open, so now he’s driving home in the dark with no lights, a bad idle, open registration and no license plates.

Four miles from home he drove through police working an accident scene and got pulled over. The cop asked him “Any idea why I pulled out over?” Ginger (now fuming) replied, “I have SEVERAL.

Turns out that the police would not let him drive it any further, let him off with a warning, and now he has to figure out how to get the car to his driveway before it gets towed.

From his wive’s earlier eye roll, I’m guessing that she didn’t think this was a good idea in the first place, and he had been texting her for the last hour trying to get a ride home.

The Mazda was in front of his house as I left for work this morning.

The end.