The Mazda MX-5 Miata Almost Never Happened
The Mazda MX-5 Miata represented a return to form for sports cars. Safety regulations, emissions standards, and shifting consumer tastes had decimated the segment. They were on the verge of extinction when Mazda broke ground on one of their own. It was never a sure thing. The project was in constant jeopardy and many within Mazda believed that there was no longer a market for that kind of car anywhere in the world. Its survival was nothing short of a miracle. Engineers and designers needed to stay the course in the face of internal doubters as well as an uncertain industry outlook. The product of their blood, sweat, and tears was one of the greatest sports cars of all time.
CONCEPTION
The year is 1979. Mazda engineering chief Kenichi Yamamoto and automotive journalist Bob Hall are wrapping up an interview at the company’s headquarters in Hiroshima. He’s gotten into their good graces over the past few years. Yamamoto has become so friendly with Hall that, at the conclusion of previous interviews, he’d show the American a project that the company had in the works. He doesn’t have anything to show this time, so he turns the question over to Hall. What would he like to see from the company next?
It was a simple question and Yamamoto was probably expecting a simple answer. Hall had other ideas. He went into a frenzy as he detailed his dream car: a 2-seat convertible reminiscent of British Roadsters from the 50s and 60s. Mazda could pull something like that off. They had a suitable donor car in the 323. Its rear-drive configuration would impart the appropriate driving dynamics while its solid construction would give it reliability that those cars never had. Hall even jumped out of his chair and made a rough sketch on a nearby blackboard.
This was too well-developed for it to be a spur-of-the-moment idea. Hall must have been simmering on this for a while. He grew up in the golden age of the sports car and longed for a return to form.
He put on quite a show but couldn’t get a read on how Yamamoto felt about it. While he didn’t look opposed to it, the excitement that Hall put forth obviously didn’t rub off on him. It could be a poker face or he might not have been interested in the idea. By this point, it was getting late. Yamamoto snapped a photograph of the drawing before the two of them called it a night.
The story probably would have ended here had Bob not had a wandering eye. Journalism paid the bills and stirred the creative juices, but he dreamed of working for a Japanese automaker someday. All of the hard work paid off in 1981 when he landed a job at Mazda’s North American research and development arm in Irvine, California. He was one of the first Americans to join the division.
Kenichi Yamamoto. Mazda Public Relations.
For the next few months, he worked diligently on the B-Series Pickup. One day in February 1982, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and saw a familiar face: Kenichi Yamamoto. More surprising than this was what he had to say. He wondered if Hall had any interest in continuing the sports car project. This was a curious development. It had been a few years since the two of them had discussed the idea. Several others within the company had expressed interest in a car like that, but he was convinced that it wouldn’t come to fruition. Now that the possibility of bringing it to life had emerged, there was no way he was going to let it slip through his fingers.
Of course, he said yes. Yamamoto went to have a word with his boss before returning to give him the parameters of the assignment. He’d only be able to work on it outside of his regular work hours. Whatever personal time he’d have to sacrifice would be a small price to pay to make the sports car a reality.
Mazda North America sent a market survey to Hiroshima later that year. The report, titled “what is a sports car to an American,” gave a brief history of the segment as well as the characteristics that defined these vehicles. Driving impressions were the most important part of the equation. The report didn’t dole out any hard numbers. Instead, it described how they should feel under operation. To quote the paper directly: “a lost-cost sports car doesn’t need 0.81g lateral acceleration or 0-60 in 8.5 seconds. It had to, as one journalist succinctly put it, “feel faster than it is, but it doesn’t have to be fast in absolute terms.” It concluded by stating that a sports car has to look good, be fun to drive, and most importantly, be offered at an affordable price.
Austin Healey 100 (1955) by SG2012 is licensed under CC By 2.0
The report, detailed as it was, didn’t really delve into why those cars went away in the first place. The market began to come into its own in the 50s. MG, Triumph, and Austin-Healey made their way across the Atlantic after the War. American automakers also dipped their toes in the water with cars like the Chevrolet Corvette and Ford Thunderbird. The sports car segment matured in the following decade. The Fiat 124 Spider, Datsun Fairlady 1500, and Alfa Romeo Giulia Spider were just a few of the offerings that enthusiasts had to choose from. Just as the segment was hitting its stride, everything fell apart. Safety and emissions regulations caused them to become slower, heavier, and less engaging to drive. The 1974 Oil Crisis signaled a major shift in consumer tastes. Suddenly, car buyers saw them as wasteful and grew to favor more rational vehicles.
Closed-body coupes such as the Toyota Celica and Datsun 240z filled the void in the market. Congress even floated the prospect of banning convertibles outright in 1971 because of safety concerns. Even though the ruling never truly came to fruition, it was enough to scare some automakers off of making ones of their own. The Fiat X1-9 was designed with a removable top largely because of the threat. Porsche also released the 911 Targa around this time. By the late 70s and early 80s, the affordable roadster was all but a distant memory. Most companies would have been foolish to create a car like this now, but most companies weren’t Mazda.
1973 Toyota Celica. Toyota Newsroom
DESIGN BATTLE
The 1970s were a tumultuous period for the entire industry, but Mazda had more or less recovered by the early 80s. The sedans as well as the B-Series pickup line had given the company some much-needed stability. Some companies could only dream of conditions like this, but Michinori Yamanouchi, GM of the product planning division, feared that this could actually have negative effects.
He thought that designers and engineers could become complacent in churning out facelifts and replacements for these models. Mazda risked getting left behind by its competitors in the high-tech 80s. The company didn’t have a dedicated creative outlet. Their Hiroshima technical research center was still several years out. In November of 1983, Yamanouchi organized a small team within his group of engineers that would handle so-called “OGG” projects. O stood for “off-line” and encompassed assignments that didn’t necessarily have production in mind. GG is short for “go-go.” This is a Japanese term that, when translated to English, means 5-5. Models that were entered into this program needed at least a 55 percent chance of success as a production model to be progressed. This kept the projects relatively grounded while still allowing a fair bit of creative freedom.
There were a few intriguing ideas that were entered into the project, including an all-terrain sports coupe and an ultra-lightweight speedster, but one car rose above the others. Proposals for a lightweight sports coupe, or an LWS, were popular with both the Japanese and American studios. Yamanouchi saw an opportunity to develop it further and proposed a design competition between the Japanese and North American Studios. Bob Hall was thrilled to see developments on this front after a year of radio silence, even if it was just a styling exercise.
Mazda’s satellite studio in Irvine, California opened just a few years ago. Like Toyota’s Calty Design Research, it was established to keep a pulse on the market. And just like that outpost, it proved its value in no time at all. The LWS was among its most critical assignments. Designers Shigenori Fukuda and Masao Yagi were sent over from Japan to assist with the project. Bob Hall also persuaded Mark Jordan to join the team in January of 1983. He was a car designer through and through. His father Chuck was a central figure in GM's styling operations and even went on to serve as their VP of design in 1986. Mark worked a spell at Opel before making the jump to Mazda.
The staff was rounding out nicely, but they still needed someone to oversee operations. Jordan knew someone from his time at GM that would be perfect for the role: Tsutomu “Tom” Matano. He held positions at Oldsmobile and Holden before moving to BMW in 1983. His stint here only lasted about 9 months. Tom was 35 years old at this point and thought that it would be many more years before he’d be able to manage a project here. Bob Hall rang him up and offered him the chance to manage an entire studio. Matano accepted and left frigid Munich for sunny Southern California.
Mazda Irvine Design Studio
He was excited to do work for the brand, but his mood changed once he actually laid eyes on their facilities. General Motors and BMW had lavishly appointed design studios. To come from those to Mazda’s barebones office was quite a shock for him. The biggest offense in his eyes was the lack of a full-size modeling area. He was starting to regret his decision but then learned that Fukuda had secured funding for a proper studio. This satisfied him, at least for the moment.
In the meantime, he helped establish the overall themes for their LWS drawings. They designed their car around a front-engine, rear-wheel-drive powertrain layout. It took on a nostalgic, though not outright retro character. In his own words:
“I think what we’re looking for is the simplicity of the era, say, the sixties. We want to get back to a relationship between car and driver that simply brings fun [to the driver]. At a time when British Sportscars had all gone… due to either safety rules or emission rules or so forth, the fun element was really disappearing out of the market. And again, another urge was to provide the type of car that we loved when we were younger… [we thought] a small sportscar with a convertible [top] has to have a place in the future as it had in the past.”
The team in Japan went in a different direction. Designers Yoichi Sato and Hideki Suzuki worked out of Mazda’s office in Tokyo’s Gotanda district. They were responsible for not one, but two different assignments. The first was a mid-engine, rear-wheel drive coupe. The idea of an affordable midship sports car was gaining momentum in the early 1980s. Pontiac’s Fiero entered production during the spring of 1983. That same year, Toyota previewed the look of the MR2 at the Tokyo Motor Show with the SV-3 concept. Mazda would have to work hard to distinguish their car from the others if they went with it.
Their second model utilized a front-engine, front-wheel-drive layout. Most automakers had adopted FF at this point in time. Although it wouldn’t provide the same experience as Irvine’s proposal, this car would be easier to develop. The rear-wheel drive 323 that Bob Hall cited in the meeting was moving to an FF layout. It would serve as a great base for this interpretation of the LWS.
LEFT TO RIGHT: Japan MR Proposal, Japan FF Proposal, Irvine FR ProposalThe evaluation took place in April of 1984. A panel reviewed renderings from both studios and gave their thoughts. They saw the market potential of the FF proposal and could get behind the idea of the mid-engine car. Irvine’s traditional roadster was a distant third. Its drawing didn’t really jump off of the page to them. They also felt that FR roadsters were old-fashioned and favored the more novel approaches.
The business case wasn’t very strong, either. Bob Hall later said:
“US sales of two-seat roadsters were around 2,500 a year. Mazda management considered the company needed to be selling 10,000 cars a year to make a business case. During the board meetings, I had to convince management that this was down to a lack of choice, rather than a lack of customers. It’s a leap of faith when someone is telling you: ‘If we build this car, customers will come. Especially when it involves a quarter of a billion-dollar investment – in 1984!”
Sato felt as if he and his team had the upper hand on them. He even empathized with them, as their hard work appeared to be in vain. It’s a good thing that the panel wasn’t making its final decision here. They told both teams to flesh out their ideas and return to Hiroshima with full-scale models in September. Mazda would choose a direction after this phase.
First Hiroshima Evaluation
The Irvine design team returned to the US and considered ways in which they could spice up their concept. The most notable change came in the form of a removable hardtop. It had the advantages of both an LWS and a closed—body coupe. The name Duo 101 reflected its dual personality. Of course, they’d actually have to build it first. The Duo 101 would be the first full-size clay model that the studio would build. The closest thing they made prior to this was a one-to-one foam mockup of an MPV proposal. There was a possibility that this crew, talented as they were individually, wouldn’t completely gel for this project. All of this is ignoring the high-stakes situation that they found themselves in. The only thing they could do was put forth their best effort.
Duo 101 Proposal
The model was finished on time and shipped to Mazda’s headquarters for evaluation. It was rolled into the presentation room alongside the others. All three of them had two doors and the same shade of red paint. The Irvine team feared that it wouldn’t stand out enough for the panel. Luckily, they were able to change this. The hardtop of the Duo 101 was attached to the car with tape, so they were easily able to remove it. Once they did, the true character of the car came alive.
The mid-engine proposal had striking proportions, but the FF car was the real threat. Hiroshima already favored that one, so it wouldn’t have been enough for Irvine to show their car. They’d have to convince the panel that it fundamentally couldn’t be a true LWS. To prove this point, they came equipped with a video presentation that laid out everything that was wrong with that approach. It began by stating that all prominent sports cars on the market were driven by the rear wheels. This layout was chosen to maximize driving pleasure and performance.
Hiroshima Second Evaluation
Front-wheel drive setups, on the other hand, were used to maximize interior space. They argued that while an FF car could be fun to drive at times, torque steer, wheel hop, and chronic understeer would inevitably ruin the experience. It then stated that the entire market was established by open-top 2-seat sports cars. Introducing something that fit into this segment only made sense. Irvine built up a strong case in their favor, but the thing that probably sealed it for them was the following quote:
“As an aside, but still pertaining to image, is the fact that being designed as an open 2-seater would make the P729unique among Japanese cars. Of course, if we again wish to follow Honda, Toyota, and others, a two-seater convertible is totally unsuitable.”
After stumbling out of the gates, the upstart American studio managed to win the competition. The LWS would continue on as a front-engine, rear-wheel drive convertible. Development would be transferred to the newly-opened Technical Research Center in Hiroshima.
SANTA BARBARA
This was the start of a hectic period for Mazda. The company had many high-priority projects in the works. Many designers and engineers that were working on the LWS were assigned to other tasks. Due to a lack of manpower and funds, management wanted to place the LWS on hold for a year or two. Masataka Matsui, the director of the technical research division, caught wind of this a intervened. In an effort to keep the project from sitting on ice, he requested that a group from the technical center oversee the creation of a functioning prototype in order to further their research into plastics.
Labor remained an issue, so the task needed to be handled by a third party. A team was dispatched from Japan to scope out European car fabricators. In November of 1984, the company handed the assignment off to International Auto Design of Britain. Mazda shipped three donor cars out to their factory in Worthing to aid them in their mission. The prototype, known as the V-705, had the front suspension of an RX-7, the rear suspension of a 929, and the 4-cylinder engine from a 323. It also utilized a backbone frame. This as well as the fiberglass body harkened back to the Lotus Elan.
V705 Prototype.
After nearly a year of hard work, the V-705 was completed in the fall of 1985. In September, a delegation consisting of representatives from the US and Japan flew in to have a look at it. Their first day here saw them examining the car at IADs workshop. The sheer level of detail seriously impressed them. It even had a functioning cigarette lighter. It was taken to the Ministry of Defense test track the following day to see how it compared to other roadsters. The V-705 stacked up nicely to the to the Fiat X1-9, Toyota MR2, and Renault Scimitar that were on hand.
Mazda planned on shipping it back to Hiroshima for further examination, but Matsui had other plans. The car was intended for and designed in the United States. In his mind, it only made sense to assess it in that market. So it was loaded up and shipped to Santa Barbara in October.
There doesn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary so far. Automakers will oftentimes take their cars onto public streets to see how they handle day-to-day stresses. The big difference between those cars and the V705 is that those cars usually sport layers of camouflage to throw off observers. Mazda would be running their car through a densely-populated urban area in broad daylight to see how people would react to it. It wouldn’t be in Southland by itself. A Spitfire, an RX7, and a Straman-built Honda CRX convertible would be riding alongside it. This was partly to squeeze more benchmarking in, but they also wanted to compare the responses those cars received to that of the V705.
It absolutely crushed the test. Eyes were locked onto it from the moment the team opened its shipping container. Crowds gawked at it wherever they went and flooded them with questions. They wanted to know what it was, how much it cost, and where they could buy one. Mazda obviously kept those details to itself.
It was also attracting the wrong kind of attention. Rogue photographers laid eyes on the car and saw dollar signs. At least one person threatened to sell their photos unless the company paid them off. Mazda did not want images of the V705 leaking out to the media. This would be difficult to do considering their bombastic approach, but the team did what it could to keep the project under wraps.
V705 Prototype Testing in Santa Barbara
In one instance, members of an unnamed automotive publication saw the car while they were at a cafe. Bob Hall plainly told them that if they published even a single photo then the entire project would be canceled. They backed down, realizing that they wouldn’t be able to cover it whenever it did actually come out.
Mark Jordan also had to negotiate with journalists after the crew happened upon an impromptu comparison test. Norman Garrett III, a layout engineer working on the car at Mazda North America, has the craziest story of them all.
“I was the “caretaker” of the prototype and was very concerned about (spy) photographs. I got the car started and some guy was trying to get a clear picture of the car. My instinctive response was ram him with the car rather than to let him get a shot off, so I aimed at him and scared him into the bushes while I zoomed out of the parking lot.”
Attempted murder aside, the Santa Monica excursion was a rousing success. They got to see firsthand that there was still strong interest in an LWS in the American market. Matsui was fully convinced of its market viability. It finally shed its “OGG” label and entered its formal development phase.
JINBA ITTAI
Mazda was in for a scare on Halloween 1985. Suzuki debuted the R/S1 concept at that year’s Tokyo Motor Show. It took Mazda’s idea of an LWS and turned it up to 11. It had a lightweight body made of fiber-reinforced plastic, a fully independent suspension, and a mid-mounted engine. This might not have been exactly how Mazda was approaching their LWS, and it wasn’t slated for production, but it did show that other companies were gauging interest in the idea. The company needed to get their car as quickly as possible, or else another automaker would beat them to the punch.
Toshihiko Hirai was charged with pulling the LWS across the finish line. He was previously looking over the 323 model line, but heard rumblings of the convertible and wanted to get involved. When the project got to this stage, he went to Yamanouchi and recommended himself for the lead position. Hirai might have been excited about the car, but it was not a high priority for the company as a whole.
Mazda’s product offensive was in full swing. Engineers were spread thin across the board and the sports car was low on the pecking order. The company approved the development of an MPV and had a strong interest in re-entering the Kei car segment. The latter had a better business case than the LWS. Shortages of manpower and resources meant that they couldn’t do all three. Many employees were in favor of shelving the sports car and putting those resources toward the Kei car. Fortunately, they were able to come to a manufacturing agreement with Suzuki. Mazda would use the Alto as the basis for their own Kei car, which eventually materialized as the 1989 Autozam Carol. Thanks to this, they’d be able to work on all three.
Not that this would make Hirai’s job any easier. The draftsmen that were originally assigned to him were pulled off of the project and assigned elsewhere. He had to work out a deal with his superiors to fill out his team. Almost all of the engineers that were transferred to him had no experience with this part of the development process. Hirai needed to bring them up to speed in the middle of the job.
Mazda Drafting Room. Mazda Public Relations
Their first base of operations was a small conference room that could accommodate a handful of people. This served them well enough at the start, but word about the project began to spread. Other engineers volunteered their time to the car, and Hirai’s group quickly outgrew their workspace. They eventually took over an entire floor of a parking garage. The so-called “riverside hotel” earned its name because it overlooked a nearby stream.
This seemed like an unusual place to carry out this kind of work, but it did have one advantage that set it apart from most other studios; a car lift. Alfa Romeos, Porsches, and Jaguars were rolled in and had their mechanicals examined in detail.
Hirai’s group grew in size, but they were still terribly undermanned for the task at hand. As a result, they needed to lean heavily on computer-aided design. Mazda had never used the technology at this scale before. Sounds intimidating, right? It actually turned out to be a boon for them. Changes to the plan that would normally take weeks to carry out could now be done in a few hours.
Shunji Tanaka, a designer whom we’ll talk about in greater detail in the next section, said that it made a major difference when they were positioning the headlight assembly. For the RX7, any change would take two weeks to create with analog drawings. It took them three months to nail this part of the car down. For the LWS, those same drawings would take a fraction of the time. After the first model was made, they found that the lights were a bit too tall. The appropriate changes were made and the position was finalized in just four days.
Mazda MX-5 Miata Head Lamp. Mazda Public Relations.
The LWS project was finally gaining a bit of momentum, but the doubters became louder as well. Hirai and the others needed to defend their idea from the criticisms.
They questioned why there was only space for two passengers, doubted the weatherproofing capabilities of a soft top, and wondered how structurally stuff a small convertible could be. Unfavorable exchange rates at the time were making the accounting department wince. Marketing thought that rear-wheel-drive roadsters were old-fashioned and didn’t believe there was any serious interest in it anywhere.
Hirai refused to compromise. He had his own convictions, though these weren’t based on numbers or hard data. It was more of a personal philosophy. In his mind, the car should be an extension of the driver. he even came up with a term for this: Jinba Ittal, horse and rider as one. This echoed Yabusame or horseback archery. A rider can control their steed with gentle nudges from their legs, hips, and feet. This frees up their hands so they can fire a bow and arrow. Hirai wanted that level of effortless control for the LWS.
He believed that the RWD layout, convertible top, and two-seat configuration were essential parts of this experience. In fact, he gave everyone an ultimatum. If any of the aforementioned features were omitted, then development on the project would cease, full stop.
Some employees took issue with the drivetrain. They couldn’t fathom why rear-wheel drive was chosen when an FF configuration would have been more efficient. On one occasion, Tom Matano was called into a meeting that was meant to bring the broader engineering base up to speed on the project. The chosen layout would have caused issues with the engine that they wanted to use. Yamanouchi asked Matano why they were so adamant about it.
He said it was envisioned as an “everyday sports car.” Such machines have to feel as natural as possible. He likened the LWS to a pair of jogging shoes. You can easily throw them on and go around the block. They’re built for running, but they can be enjoyed at every pace and in most environments. He then compared MR to spiked shoes. They’re tuned for optimal performance and are only suitable for certain settings. FF was like a horse-drawn chariot, where you’re pulled forward instead of being in direct control.
He then asked the others in the room to close their eyes and imagine they were running the last corner of an oval track.
“Just feel your legs kicking and driving forward. Feel your hands balancing your body and the power of your legs, as well as the impact on your hips. As you adjust your balance, feel the speed of the wind on your face. Read the curve–accelerate out of the corner to the home stretch and toward the goal line.”
“Now image the last corner of a horse race: The horse’s hind legs are kicking powerfully to propel it forward. Its forelegs are providing balance and you are feeling the lateral Gs on your hips… This is the natural way that all living things turn a corner. This feeling cannot be provided by a front-wheel drive layout, but only through a front engine/rear-wheel drive layout.” This gave them a different perspective on the matter. The LWS would remain FR and much of the grumbling on the matter dissipated.
The V705s backbone frame and fiberglass body wouldn’t have been appropriate for a mass-produced car. The former was left out because of cost while the latter would have served as a factory bottleneck. Steel was used for most of the exterior. An aluminum hood reduced weight at the front of the car.
A rotary engine wasn’t considered for long. The car’s chassis would have to be modified so that it could handle the extra power, adding extra weight and complexity. The resulting driving experience would have been far removed from what they were aiming for. Creating an engine from scratch wasn’t a possibility, so they had to start with something in-house. The 1.6L 4-cylinder B6 from the 323 was chosen as a starting point. It was designed to be transversely mounted in front-wheel drive vehicles and needed to be refitted so that it could be used for a rear-wheel drive car. Initially, the engineers only received the resources to perform the conversion. Despite this, they went the extra mile to turn it into something worthy of being in a sports car. Extra parts were developed in secrecy and occasionally shown to management. In time, they gave the engineers the freedom and the means to make it all their own. Revamped internals and a lightweight crank angle sensor made it lighter and more responsive. The 115HP B6-ZE wasn’t the most powerful thing in the world, but it perfectly suited the car’s character.
Mazda Computer-Aided Design. Mazda Public Relations
The decision to make the LWS a convertible was a surprisingly controversial one within the company. Mazda hadn’t had good luck with these. Engineer Youichi Shibuta recalled their experience with the 323 cabriolet. That car had poor structural stability and weighed significantly more than the standard model because of the body reinforcements. During the mid-80s, when LWS development was well underway, computers were becoming advanced enough to carry out Finite Element Analysis tests. Basically, this is when the intricate shape of a car (or any object) is broken up into smaller shapes. The computer processes this data to calculate the durability and stiffness of the body. Data from full-size engineering drawings had to be entered into the system by hand. Adversity early on confirmed the doubts of the older, old-school engineers, but they weren’t discouraged. A running prototype based on reworked drawings underwent bending and torsional rigidity trials. It showed a 40 percent improvement over the brand’s previous open-top efforts and ranked among the industry’s best.
STYLING EVOLUTION
While the engineers honed the mechanicals, the styling team refined the car’s sheet metal. The Irvine studio finished a second full-size model in December 1985. This one featured more characterful blinkers, a streamlined lower front clip, and a lower belt line.
Second Irvine Proposal
The third and final mock-up took the best aspects of the previous two. Its auxiliary units have gone from square lights low on the car to thin, rounded lashes directly under the pop-ups. The air intake has also been reintroduced. A familiar face begins to emerge here.
Irvine completed their model and reluctantly turned it over to the technical center in September 1986 to be finalized. Designer Shunji Tanaka would oversee this task. He actually thought the LWS was most of the way there. It was just covered in a layer of what he called “fat.” Tom Matano and a few others at the North American studio would have referred to this extra sheet metal as “muscle.” Whatever the case, Tanaka was focused on trimming the exterior down in order to extract the car’s true essence.
Third Irvine Proposal
Work wouldn’t get underway for a while. Mazda still had a backlog of higher-priority projects. Tanaka’s team didn’t have any clay modelers or even a surface plate to work with, so the model sat dormant in a warehouse. Progress resumed in November after the studio gained some semblance of stability.
35mm were shaved from the top of the hood and cowl. Tanaka wanted to lower the cowl by an additional 20mm but was stopped by an engineer. No one was around to prevent him from changing the width of the front intake. Hirai only noticed a difference after taking a ruler to model, but by then it was too late to change it back.
Its wheelbase was also shortened by 13mm. This minor change had major ramifications. Several internal components needed to be relocated, including the battery. It couldn’t fit under the hood, but engineers thought they found a place for it behind the rear wheel. Tanaka’s executive decision exacerbated an assembly line issue. I’ll quote the book Mazda MX-5 Miata Roadster: Design and Development directly.
“A bar, necessary to lift the chassis on the production line, interfered with the lid for the battery due to the short wheelbase. Installing the battery after the final assembly would not allow the car to be moved off the line under its own power. We could not change the chassis lift hanger because this would not allow different cars to share a single production line, leading to a productivity problem.”
They had no choice but to place it in the boot. Cargo room was negatively affected, but it also helped even out the weight distribution.
There was internal opposition to the pop-up headlights. Some within their ranks thought they were outdated and wanted to replace them with something sleeker. Tanaka wished to keep them because they established a link with the flagship RX-7. He’d get his way in the end. They were the only way that the car would pass vehicle height regulations in the United States.
Many elements on the outside and inside adopted a “circle” motif. The flush door handles on the S-3 model were replaced with small, rounded units that could be used with just one finger. The tail lights took this on as well. Two circular lights were placed inside a small oval housing. These small, purposeful lights embodied everything that the car stood for. Later on, they’d be displayed at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Not the car. Just the lights.
Mazda MX-5 Miata Tail Lights. Mazda Public Relations
Tanaka became obsessed with creating Noh masks during this period. Light and shadow dance along the subtle curves to convey emotion. Joy, anger, sorrow, and fear are imparted through these inanimate objects. They take on lives of their own and transform the wearer.
He realized that there were principles that could be transferred to the LWS. It wasn’t just about giving the car a “face.” He wanted to have that sort of interplay throughout the entire car. Modeler Shigeru Kajiyama was tasked with transferring this idea into a clay model. The most notable development here was the removal of the bumper guard. This emphasizes the lower air intake and simplifies the exterior styling. The through line is maintained through the use of a cleaner, less intrusive full-body crease.
With all of this attention paid to the exterior styling and driving characteristics, it was only natural for the cockpit to be a bit of an afterthought. Overall themes were explored from the very beginning, but serious work in this area didn’t begin until 1987. The V-705s futuristic motif was dropped in favor of a more simplistic one. There isn’t much flair in its execution, but it also doesn’t get in the way of the matter at hand. Costs and weight were the main priorities.
Mazda decided to lean into these restrictions, abiding by a “simple is best” philosophy. Anything that the car didn’t need was left out. The tight quarters were also flipped into a characteristic. He recalled a moment when they built a mockup to confirm the ergonomics. As this was being built, two men from an Australian distributor came by to check on their progress. Overall impressions were positive, but they did ask for more space on the inside. Hirai replied “We do not cater for big people. You can either squeeze yourself in or please forget it.” They were confused at first, but then they actually adapted to the car.
Mazda MX-5 Miata Interior. Mazda Public Relations
In March of 1987, a fiberglass model based on the Hiroshima design was airfreighted to the Pasadena Convention Center for a final judgment. 245 random people were invited to have a look at the car and share their thoughts. Its identity and origin weren't revealed to them. This was a sneaky situation. Clinics have been responsible for diluting cars in the past. The feedback that they gave would certainly influence the final product. Designers and engineers watched the events unfold on a television set in a back room.
They wouldn’t have anything to worry about. 60 percent of those questioned said they liked it and 80 percent of those people said they’d consider buying it. The most shocking part? The average price they’d be willing to pay was $17,000. Bob Hall noted that the car would have been profitable at its planned price of $8,888. That’s an oddly specific number, but 8 is a lucky number in Japan. After this, the sticker price jumped up to about $13,000.
The viability of the project was no longer in doubt. Now Mazda was focused on getting it into production as soon as possible.
The car’s original start date was pulled forward by a full four months. To achieve this aggressive target, Hirai and manager Fukuda declared a design freeze in September 1987. No further design changes would go into effect after this date.
There was only one matter left to address: the name. It had been given several names throughout the development process, but none of them would have done the job. The first part of the designation was easy enough to come to. Mazda released a series of concept cars in the 80s that were a bit outside of the box. The MX-02 was a high-tech saloon, the MX-03 was a mid-engine sports coupe, and the MX-4 utilized high-tech body panels. In a way, the LWS was the next car in this lineage. MX-05 was shortened to MX-5 for brevity.
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Mazda MX-5 Badge. Mazda Public Relations
This alphanumeric designation was in line with their nomenclature, though consumers would resonate more with it if it had an actual name.
Laguna was an early favorite, but then the marketing boss came across the word “Meed.” This meant “reward” or “due amount of praise. Mazda Meed didn’t sound good enough to them. They looked into its origins and found that it traced back to an old German word: Miata. This sounded better, but this name couldn’t be used in the Japanese market. There was a company in that country called “Miyata.” Mazda came to a compromise. It would be sold as the MX-5 Miata in the United States. In Japan, it would be sold under the recently-launched “Eunos” brand as the roadster.
Miata was a fitting name for the car. What began as an idea in Bob Hall’s mind turned into the best-selling sports car in history. The journey there was full of obstacles, but that just made the reward all the more satisfying.