It started back in March, after a trip to Goodwood for a press day. My dream Mazda RX-7, which I’d bought just nine months earlier, had run faultlessly, albeit thirstily, for the entire journey. But then, just three miles from home, as I approached my first set of traffic lights since leaving a long stretch of the M40, the engine revs dropped low, and I found myself being shaken side to side in my seat, as the car seemed simply to run out of breath after its long run.
This was terribly uncharacteristic. I was used to all the in-jokes from other RX-7 owners, but mine had always been the exception to the rule. My car was mostly as it left the factory and, hence, not plagued by some of the usual afflictions of modified cars. It always sprang to life on the first turn of the key and, until today, never showed any signs of a wandering idle, even on cold start.
In the dark, the gauges on top of the dashboard illuminated the cabin in their white and red glow, and my eyes immediately darted to both the water and oil temperature readings, neither of which showed anything worrisome. Still, these cars are known to run hot, and the transmission tunnel had been keeping my left leg nice and toasty for most of the trip, so I put it down to the engine bay being a bit heat-soaked after a brief stint of enthusiastic driving just before I left the motorway.
