Baumann

I can live with change. I’ve been forced to on many an occasion; chosen or not. In the last eight years of my life I have been the recipient of life altering changes many times over. Throughout that time, things that have been a significant part of my life have come and gone. Relationships, goals, rewards, accomplishments, trials, and experiences both tangible and memorable. Some of these losses are very materialistic but still, I feel that they were a part of me. Tribute, my favorite restaurant in history closed its doors amidst a fledgling economy. Despite the fact that I now manage a restaurant where some people still have the means to throw around cash as if it were defecating from them, Tribute, because Detroit is nowhere near what it once was, is no more. There are similar fine dining experiences that I have shared with others since going there, but none will replace the magic that I felt every single time I walked into that
place Mecca of fine dining.

While many things have changed, one thing remains since 2007: I no longer drive. In 2004, my life was on an upswing. As a reward, I was able to negotiate a minimal monthly payment to get the new car of my dreams: a Mazda RX-8. It was a stunning automobile. It drove as if on rails; a demon on the road and both a visual and performance marvel. Sure it didn’t jump off the line in less than six seconds, but I never cared about that. I could still outrun other similar cars because this sucker had one important factor that most others lack: stamina. There was no greater feeling than taking curves at more than 40 miles per hour after downshifting into second gear. Yes, second gear; possible because the redline was set at nine thousand. This car screamed drive me. Boy did I. For years I enjoyed the simplicity of design for the greatest track car ever built and I miss it still. You have to understand, it was more than just a sleek sports car. It was a true expression of my ambitions, personality, and inner self, all rolled into a sexy package that made everyone I encountered envious. From day one of having that car, people would constantly comment on it. Those who knew of the Wenkel Rotary engine would provide great conversation while others simply marveled at its beauty. One of the best traits of the car was that in a sea of automobiles both rich and poor, the RX-8 was still uniquely me. It had a character and finicky nature that didn’t appeal to the masses, and those who did subscribe would dumb it down with a paddle-shifting automatic with 20 less horsepower because they thought it to be cute. Make no mistake, this was a driver’s car. A track car that effortlessly won 24 Hours of Le Mans. It felt perfect to sit behind the wheel, with the pinnacle of Japanese ergonomic design allowing everything within reach. This all before I had an iPhone and Bluetooth to integrate to it. Wow, I can only imagine how much better the ride has become 7 model years later.

That said, it really struck me when I just read that because of poor sales, Mazda has ceased production and will call 2011 it’s final model year. I’m not surprised, like I just mentioned, the lack of sales attributed to just how special driving this car was for me. What struck me was the possibility that even though I have no plan to return to a land where a car is necessary, I may never drive or most certainly own an RX-8, ever again. This makes me a little uneasy. I know it’s a pipe dream but my love for that car and how it made me feel driving it every single day still led me to believe that sometime in the future, if I needed to, I would have that again. I actually think about it on a regular basis. What if I had the money to just buy one and baby the shit out of it forever? Sadly, as I scour the Internet searching for one last 2011 to call my own, I’m left with very few possibilities; a large percentage are automatics, not to mention the lack of $35,000 in my bank account. This time around it would definitely have to be a purchase. Don’t give me that impractical crap either. Those that know anything may remember that the 8 had suicide doors and a rather roomy backseat and trunk. It was killer for road trips; my jaunt to Chicago three years ago and various trips to Cedar Point are perfect examples. So if I end up moving somewhere where a car is needed and I also have kids, no one will ever be able to talk me out of getting this car again. It’s that important to me. Christ, why can’t I just win the lottery already? That’s a rant for another day…