At the wheel: Antony Ingram
Owned since: November 2020
Current condition: Remarkably original
Hands-on or hands-off? Mostly off – rotaries are best left to the professionals
Antony Ingram is Assistant Editor at Hagerty. He was once given a Toyota Paseo for free, but soon came to appreciate that the best things in life aren’t free, and promptly bought the Mazda RX-7 you see here.
4 February, 2021: Joining the rotary club
What the classic car market giveth with one hand, it taketh away with the other. Like most I’ve grown up surrounded by cars, waiting patiently for the moment a dream car from childhood would depreciate enough to perfectly intersect with my budget at a given stage in life.
It was tantalising watching the values fall, seeing Honda NSXs pop up for £15,000 and Renault Sport Clio V6s dip lower than you’d pay for a half-decent Clio Trophy these days. Then, they began climbing again, just as reality began to dawn: I wasn’t even close to having enough disposable income to buy one, let alone enough to then maintain the car after purchase. Values and budget never intersected; one curve merely followed the other; frustration grew.
Soon there was just one car left: one last Japanese icon from the “bubble era” that seemed achievable, a car that could hold its own with NSXs and Nissan Skylines – the Mazda RX-7. But even that was rising in value, as enthusiasts clamoured for the remaining examples.
I’ve had a fondness for Mazdas since owning my first MX-5 back in 2009. That was a car I bought mostly because it was an inexpensive way into something rear-wheel drive and had double the power of the Fiesta it was replacing.
Its Mazda RX-7 big brother though had always been out of reach – a car that, in 2021 money, cost around £70,000 new, and was never something that could be run, like the MX-5, on a relative shoestring. Moreover, most examples that cropped up for sale were (usually tastelessly) modified. Given the “FD” RX-7’s needy reputation – it turns out sequentially-turbocharged rotary engines require plenty of maintenance, who knew? – taking on someone else’s project, however affordable, seemed wholly unwise.
I’d kept a beady eye on values then, assuming that like every other car on “the list” it would soon become unattainable. What I did not expect was a car to fall basically into my lap when I’d all but lost hope.
In one of the rare breaks between 2020 lockdowns I’d flown to Germany for a Mazda 100th anniversary event, at which several of the company’s past masters were available to drive. A red 1994 Mazda RX-7 was on the list, one of Mazda UK’s collection, though having driven it at a previous event I concentrated on other cars – a rare 929 coupe, a 10th Anniversary MX-5, a second-generation RX-7 convertible.
Then I caught wind of a rumour that one of the cars was for sale. My ears pricked up: Cars as original as those in manufacturer heritage fleets are rare on the open market, making them canny buys. I’d assumed that it would be one of the MX-5s (having sold my last one a few years ago, I was already itching for another), or perhaps the V6-engined MX-3 I’d actually tried to buy three or four years previous. A quick chat with the right person at Mazda revealed it was actually the red RX-7 – and the suggested price was one I genuinely couldn’t refuse. I offered to buy it on the spot.
I’ll admit to some nerves when finally arranging to pick the car up, last December. These cars do have a capital-R “Reputation”, and a preliminary test drive had revealed a few things that need attention – things, I’d add, that were reflected in the asking price. The car appears to be bypassing the second turbocharger, with little extra power apparent over 4500rpm, so that’s probably job number one. At least parts should be easy to come by.
But broadly, it drives as cleanly as its blissfully standard appearance would infer and, for the first time, my garage is occupied by a genuine dream car. Now I just need my budget to intersect with its thirst for fuel and oil. If you own an RX-7, or indeed any rotary, do share your experiences in the comments, below.
12 April, 2021: Charging around
I knew what I was getting into when I bought an RX-7, but when the clouds finally dispersed long enough for dry, salt-free roads late in February, it was nevertheless still disappointing to excitedly turn the key to the sound of… absolutely nothing at all. Nada. Not even the click of a starter solenoid drawing those final few electrons.
It was of course a flat battery. The last time I’d driven the car was on New Year’s Day, and in a fit of optimism I’d avoided disconnecting the battery assuming that, at some point over the course of early 2021, there’d be a clear, dry weekend on which to give the car a lockdown-friendly but vital fluid-circulating spin.
The Mazda had lulled me into a false sense of security though, because each time I’d popped into the garage – a spot of cleaning here, some idle staring at Hiroshima’s bubble-era beauty there – the immobiliser light had been glinting brightly from the interior, suggesting all was well.
This isn’t my first rodeo though and I’ve had a battery charger and conditioner lying around the garage for years, ready to dispense the elixir of carefully-managed electricity to large, useless lumps of lead-acid. It took a couple of days to bring it back from the brink and then I let it run a top-up programme until the following weekend. A blinking green light signalled success.
And wouldn’t you know it, the immobiliser deactivated, the car started up, and the only sign something was amiss was the string of zeroes on the trip computer. A celebratory but unspectacular drive followed just to check everything was A-okay, along with a distressingly expensive top-up of the 76-litre tank.
With the weather picking up I’ve been able to go for a few more drives since. It’ll take a trackday or a good drive on roads more spectacular than Northamptonshire can offer to really get under its skin, but I feel like I’m beginning to peel back the RX-7’s layers.
It’s capable in the corners for a start; tiny dimensions (it’s smaller in length, width and height than a 987 Porsche Cayman), modest weight (1310kg, says the brochure, so also lighter than a Cayman) and fairly meaty tyres (225 section on 16-inch wheels) seem to bond it to the road in a way I’ve not experienced in cars of a similar vintage.
The control weights are spot-on too and the smoothness of that engine – even though it needs some attention to deliver its full output (more on that at a later date) – give it a feeling of integrity that’s unexpected given the reputation of rotary cars for being a bit flaky. I’m often wary of driving hero cars, let alone owning them, but so far the RX-7 is more than living up to expectations. When the battery isn’t flat, anyway.Tweet to @antonywrites Follow @antonywrites
RX-7 fan? Bookmark this page as Antony will regularly report on his Mazda RX-7 FD.