The worst of times
By Jeffrey
Fazio
a.k.a. JekylandHyde
They
say some cats have nine lives, well this cat has had 9 MR2s. That's
right, nine of them. Jekyl, my 1991 NA, is the 8th MR2 I have bought
in my life and Hyde, my 1991 turbo, is actually the 9th. Why so many
MR2s? W ell, you might say that during my college years I volunteered
as a crash-test dummy for Toyota.
This
is the story of the MR2s I owned. Parts of this story may be funny ...
parts may be sad ... parts will show how stupid I was when I was much
younger. My stupidity is much different now. Now it has more to do
with women than cars.
My proclivity for automobile accidents did not start with my first
MR2. In fact, it didn't even start with my first car. It started when
I was 10. One night, while riding in my aunt's car, a guy ran a red
light, hit us and we just sat there spinning in the middle of the
intersection. That accident began a 15-year stretch of my body being
thrown around the inside of crashing cars like load of laundry in a
dryer. Someday a chiropractor is going to be very happy to meet me.
By
the time I actually got my driver's license, I had already been in 3
car accidents -- all as a passenger. There was the previously
mentioned accident with my aunt. The second one, I was in my brother's
pick-up w hen he was t-boned and in the 10th grade I was lucky enough
to be riding home from school with a friend when she rolled her dad's
brand new SAAB three times over.
That
girl made me wear my seat belt that day. Interestingly enough, that
was first time in my life I ever wore a seat belt. It made me a
believer. There hasn't been a time since then that I do not buckle up.
That girl has saved my life many times.
The first accident that I could claim as my very own happened exactly
5 hours after I got my driver's license. A mere two blocks from home I
was rear-ended by a drunk driver as I slowed for a stop sign.
I
am now 30 years old and over my entire lifespan I have been in 16
accidents, 10 of them in MR2s. On four other occasions MR2s I have
owned have had contact with another vehicle while I was not inside.
I bought my first MR2, a 1986 model, when I turned 19. At the time I
was too assertive of a driver ... too inexperienced ... too brave ...
too young for a mid-engine sports car. Mid-engine sports cars are not
for the inexperienced.
I
wrecked that '86 MR2 about 2 months after buying it. Excessive speed
in an exit ramp combined with rain resulted in a total wipe out. I
spun the MR2 around several times clearing an entire row of signs and
reflector posts. The end result was every single panel (all doors,
fenders and bumpers) received damage to varying degrees. All the glass
was fine, all the signals were fine, but one wheel was torn off.
I
had the wheel repaired and since the car was still able to pass
inspection, I drove it all dented up for a good two years wearing its
damage as a badge of dishonor. Over those two years, the car was hit 2
more times while it was parked.
On a third occasion, during an ice storm, I parked on a hill at a
shopping mall. When I exited the car and closed the door the car slid
away from me. I can't explain what that felt like. My first thought
was "Wow, I'm strong". My second thought was "Hey,
there goes my car". The car slid until it hit a parked Chevy
Berreta, adding few more battle scars.
When
I was in college, I worked with a girl who had a blue 91 MR2 NA. She
ended up getting into some financial difficulties and had to sell the
car. I picked that 91 MR2 up from her fairly cheap. Not even 2 months
after buying the car, I to ok a friend for a ride. We were on a back
road and I crossed into the on-coming lane, mid-turn, to pass a Jeep
on the inside. That unfortunately was my first lesson in not getting
off throttle quickly mid-turn in a mid-engine car. My first over-steer
experience resulted in the rear bumper tagging a guardrail.
At
this time I still had my original '86, but not for long. While driving
on a highway, I saw a car approaching me from behind, in my lane,
going good 5 - 10 mph faster than I was. I was amazed as he got closer
that he was not changing lanes. I said to my friend, " I think we
are about to get hit."
We did.
Not
surprisingly, the guy was drunk. After initially getting out of his
car, he jumped back in and took off. So we chased him down and got his
plates. I sold the '86 shortly after that incident. Soon after that
experience, I traded my 91 NA in on a white 1991 turbo MR2.
So
now I had boost. I was still too assertive of a driver ... too
inexperienced ... too brave ... too young for a mid-engine sports
car. The addition of turbocharged horsepower to the equation of my
life was a heavy dose of ominous foreshadowing the likes of which Ray
Bradbury has never seen.
Soon
after this purchase I moved to VA Beach, a place of very boring
straight roads, but very wide intersections. Those intersections are
where I learned to control oversteer. Throwing an MR2 sideways in the
middle of a huge intersection making a left turn (with a green arrow)
gives ample room for mistakes and learning.
A
foolish confidence in my oversteer ability started to grow and I
started throwing the back end of my MR2 out while turning into my
apartment complex on a regular basis. After a few weeks of doing this,
I learned the hard way that the apartment complex does not fit the
above description of "ample room for mistakes."
One fateful morning, I entered the complex a little too fast and the
rear end came around a little farther than I was used to. In the
excitement of the moment, I squeezed the throttle while
counter-steering and the car snapped back in line. Then it kept
snapping until it went full circle in the opposite direction of the
initial oversteer. My 91 MR2 went up and over a curb while taking out
a small reflector sign resulting in a nice ding to the driver's side
fender.
Three
months later I left VA Beach and moved back to my home state of
Pennsylvania to finish my degree. I also started to modify my car,
which was the beginning of the worst 3 years of my driving career.
Upon returning to PA I decide to take this MR2 thing a little more
seriously. In fact, I became a boost junky. I ordered parts - lots of
parts.... GReddy TDO6 turbo kit, GReddy Intercooler, GReddy boost
controller, HKS VPC, intake, exhaust, etc. I loaded up all of these
boxes of parts into the MR2, drove two hours to a performance shop in
New Jersey and dropped everything off. Two weeks later my car was
ready.
I
got the car back and it was fast... disgustingly fast. Faster than
anything I had ever driven before. I absolutely enjoyed that MR2 the
entire two days I had it before it was destroyed. Two days after I
got the car home, I was giving a friend a ride to show off my newfound
power (I have wrecked 2 MR2s and blown one MR2 engine while giving
rides. Giving rides is an expensive prospect). \
At
any rate, I was in the left lane of a local highway and I was at
speed. I had clear road except for an 18-wheeler in the right lane. As
I approached the truck at a healthy rate, a guy in a Mercury Sable
station wagon comes out of an exit and sees the truck. The Sable
driver proceeded to just shoot into the left lane, in front of me, to
pass the truck. The relationship between my speed and his proximity
did not allow enough room to avoid a collision.
The
last thought I had was where am I going to get my bumper fixed. I knew
I was going to bump the guy, but I knew it was not going to be that
bad. I knew nothing.
That was my introduction to air bags. That air bag punched me in the
face so hard and blew my hands off the wheel so fast that I lost
complete control of the car. It was like fighting Mike Tyson without
the huge payout. One hit and I was down.
The
MR2, of its own volition, swerved into the rolling rear wheels of the
18-wheeler. It was promptly ground up and spit out. The air bag
removed my entire left cheek. All of the skin was gone and my
beautiful MR2 that could have had a dinged bumper was now totaled.
That was to be the second-worse injury I would ever have in an MR2.
My
friend Brian and I tore the performance parts off of the car and the
insurance company hauled it away. Within a few weeks I located a teal
93 Turbo MR2 at a Toyota dealership. So back to the performance shop
in NJ to have all of those fancy aftermarket parts installed again.
Little did I know that a mere six months later I would be selling the
center CD-storage box out of this car stained with my blood.
This
accident was completely not my fault. I was sitting at a red light on
my way home from college and a kid in a Ford F150 XL pickup drove into
stopped traffic at 50 mph. As if I won the "lottery" in a
Shirley Jackson story, I was the first car he hit. He shortened my MR2
by 3 feet and shoved me out of the way. He continued on and slammed
into another car that was in front of me.
I
was knocked out. Both people in the car that was in front of me were
knocked out and from what I understand, the kids' father wanted to
knock him out. The tow truck driver told me later on that the kids'
father was inventing words as he yelled.
I
had about 3 months of physical therapy on my neck and lower back. To
this day, sometimes when I am driving and I glance to my rearview
mirror my neck pulls in a very bad way. I can feel it pull from the
top of my skull to the middle of my shoulder blades. I guess it could
have been a lot worse.
His
insurance company paid in full and with that money I went shopping. I
bought a black 91 turbo MR2 and I also bought a red 1988 MR2 NA. With
the luck I was having, I figured the 88 would be a good daily driver
and keep the turbo out of harm's way. The 88 MR2 was to be my
sacrificial pawn in the chess game of driving. My black 91T was to be
my black king, safely kept at home. Within a year I would learn that
one simple pawn cannot protect the king.
All of the performance parts I took off of my wrecked 93T were
installed onto the Black 91T. That GReddy TDO6 turbocharger kit was
now on its 3rd MR2 ... but not on its last.
As
a matter of course I was on my way to class one morning in the 88 MR2
and I entered a one-lane, one-way alley with parking on the right. The
alley was the width of two cars. I was traveling behind an SUV. About
halfway into the alley the SUV pulls over to the right (where the
parking spaces are) and I continue straight. As I approach the SUV he
makes a hard left into a smaller alley ... well, actually he ma de the
hard left into me.
He
sent my MR2 up the handicap ramp of the sidewalk and into some bushes.
Unfortunately the only thing on the other side of the bushes was
gravity. Like the Wile E. Coyote in the Road Runner cartoons, I
realized I just went off a cliff without any ground under me. So down
I go. Down a 12-foot embankment that led into a U.S. Post Office
parking lot. The MR2 came to rest in a vertical position with its nose
resting on the back of the mail trucks.
I
was relieved. I was relieved because my black 91T was still at home in
the driveway. I thought I won the game this time. I had another
accident, but the turbo MR2 was safe at home. That car remained safe
for nearly six more months.
One
morning I left late for work in the 91T. Anyone who knows me knows it
is unusual for me to leave late for anything. I used to joke that the
later I left, the faster I would have to drive. Well that morning that
logic proved fatal for my MR2.
In
an effort to make up lost time, I took the back roads. I was making
great time until I came out of a turn onto a long straight and in
front of me was one of those really large farm grain dump trucks going
less than 20 mph. That was unacceptable. Seeing as visibility was
clear for a good distance and there was no oncoming traffic the
choice was obvious. I downshifted, punched it, boost kicked in and I
swung into the oncoming lane to make a brilliant pass at exactly the
same instant the truck made an unsignalled left-hand turn in front of
me.
It
happened so fast that the thought of stopping hadn't even touched my
synapses. I clearly recall dropping my arms from the wheel in
resignation (probably saved my thumbs). My MR2 t-boned those huge
rolling rear wheels, completely destroying the front of the car.
Fifteen minutes later the interior and front trunk went up in flames.
I
had previously removed the air bag from that MR2 since my first
experience with MR2 air bags was less than fulfilling. Hitting the
truck above 50 mph with no air bag resulted in some mild seat belt
pain, that's all.
While
I stood on some random person's lawn watching my MR2 burn I
realized I was done. Like an alcoholic that knows he had his last
drink, I was done. I voluntarily stopped driving. That was November of
1998 and that was my last recorded accident; although I have had two
MR2s since then receive minor damage. I went six months without a car
and I did not buy another MR2 for over a year.
So
over a year later I bought a red 1987 MR2. I had that car for a few
months before it received a health y ding. In the midst of holiday
traffic I got distracted for the briefest possible moment right when
the guy in front of me jumped on his brakes. I braked, swerved and
just caught his rear bumper resulting in a dinged corner on my MR2.
Compared to everything I had gone through years earlier that was
small potatoes.
In
November of 2002 a deer jumped out in front of me while I was driving
Jekyl, my current white 91 non-turbo MR2. The deer's hoof caught my
passenger-side headlight and slid across the hood. Luckily I was
cruising at a very low speed so the only damage to Jekyl was the
headlight getting twisted out of shape.
My
other MR2, Hyde, is the only MR2 I have owned that has not ever hit
anything while I was driving it. Ironically, Hyde is the only MR2 I
have ever bought that already had body damage. Coincidence?
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