RX3 james

Back in high school, I wanted my first car to be either: 60's mustang, some kind of huge early model Thunderbird, Alfa Romeo, or VW Scirocco. My budget was more Toyota Corolla though. My older bro had a Corolla hatch back wagon, brown, some would say 'sh*t brown', and instead of fixing it up, he spent his money putting a gigantic dual 12" subwoofer box that filled up the entire hatch back. This is the reasoning of high school boys.

Anyway one day my bro and I were out looking at a Corolla for me to buy from an ad in the paper (remember paper classifieds?) He drops me off and goes down the street to look for parking. I was looking at this corolla for sale and my bro walks up to me and says "You gotta look at this car for sale parked down the street" The corolla was a typical ugly beat up POS for $600 or something. So we take a walk down the street to look at this other car.

We walk up to this gorgeous shining bright red car with black rims that is absolutely perfect (cue the choir music). I didn't know what the hell it was. The sign in the window said '75 Mazda RX3. I'd never heard of it. My bro says it's a rotary engine car. I say, "What the hell's that?" He says, "It's fast".

Here's the situation, the sign says $1200, I've got literally $1150 in the bank. But it is clear to me, eff the corolla, eff those other 'dream' cars, I must have this car. Went back home and called the number (cell phones? No cell phones. The closest thing back then was those gigantic car phones rich guys in limos had). Got the answering machine. I didn't get a call back until 2 days later. A lady answers, yes it's still for sale, I ask her a few questions about the condition how it drives etc. She says it is her car but her boyfriend who works at a body shop rebuilt it for her for "free". She explains all the things that's been done to it, I understand maybe half of what she says. And then she says: "Oh yeah, I was driving it yesterday and got in an accident". WTF and Holy $h#t! I say to myself, silently. Luckily it was only a fender bender. So I say, I'll buy it but since it's got a dent now will you take $1100 for it? She agrees.

So that's how I got my very first car, it was a '75 RX3 2DR Coupe, bright clear-coated ferrari red, 12A, 4spd manual, lowered all around, black alloy wheels. My dream car, although I never dreamed about it until I saw it.

That might not be the punch line to this story though! Here's the bonus punch line:

One week later, having fun with my dream car on the wet roads of Seattle, I took a corner too fast, 4 wheel slide into oncoming traffic, I passed the point of no return and I remember having enough time to think while sliding "there's nothing I can do now". I hit a poor guy in a Honda Civic, bounced off his car and ricocheted back over two lanes onto the sidewalk. The entire driver side of my RX3 (ironically the side with the small dent from before) was completely smashed. Hit hard enough that it broke the tie rod on the front wheel, crunched along the door until it hit the rear axle, impact pulled the driveline out of the transmission, and still enough force left over to throw me and the car two lanes over onto the sidewalk. The entire front of the Civic was smashed.

At that age, you don't think about consequences enough. I was just out living the dream you have as a little kid, burning rubber, speed racer, etc. I lucked out because after the crash I got out (thru the passenger door) without a single damn scratch. I ran out, shaking, over to the other guy, an older gentleman, who didn't have a single damn scratch either. Both our cars were totaled! Thank God! because only now, thinking about it after the crash, I couldn't live with myself if I had injured someone else (or worse) because of my idiocy. He didn't even know who was at fault, all he said was "All I saw was head lights". The police came, I explained what I did. I got a ticket for 'driving on the wrong side of the road'. My insurance paid for his car, but I couldn't afford comprehensive, so no money for me. All in all, I...TOTALLY... lucked out.

I remember looking at my dream car... totally smashed, halfway on the road halfway on the sidewalk, thinking F*&K, F&*k, F&*K! In fact, I think I may have very well been yelling it but I can't quite remember. I went to a house nearby, asked an old lady if I could use her phone (again no cell phones, hah, so wierd). She looked at me, having seen the aftermath of the crash, and said "Are you drunk?" No lady, just a f&*king idiot teenager here.

She let me use her phone. Had to call mom. Ugh. Then, called a tow truck for the ride of shame back home. During the tow, the drive-line was dragging on the ground sparking. The tow truck had all its emergency lights flashing and was driving slow because of this, making the ride of shame even more excruciating, making sure all my neighbors would hear the racket and come out and look as I brought my 'pride and joy' back home. Look Ma! - No Brains!

I guess the moral of the story, what I learned anyway, is: If you're going to drive like a f&*k-wad, take it to the track where you can't hurt innocent bystanders.

On a final note: the car wasn't a total loss. I was a senior in high school. We were the only school in the city with an auto shop class. I bought a 1973 body and took all the good parts of the wrecked 75 for the most awesome senior project I could ever hope for: rebuilding my 2nd RX3 Coupe.