afternoon sex and the 1993 mazda mx3

by adam barrera

back then, hot z95 partied on the pristine shore.

apparently, this wide-eared six-year-old appreciated thick beats and not much else. i never realized that "freak like me" by adina howard had such dirty lyrics.

xm radio's '90s channel jogged my memory. the black tie grants even the most swedish saab several 40s of credibility. and in this more than decent rig -- shit. so fast. -- i had a third moment of clarity.

thousands of enthusiasts, wallets full of fiat, idle in the hopes of an import sport compact resurgence. brothers -- it will take years.

ironic truth: the weight gain of our favorite cars is inversely proportional to the weight loss in their steering. raymond says, "kids don't buy new civics -- they buy egs and eks." guess what? the guy's right.

honda dealers were once filled with young, carefree dreamers shopping for romantic cars. crxes, preludes, minivans with f1-grade double wishbones.

find a passionate buyer at their dealers now. dare, bro. and when you come up short, think of the colorkeyed stripe in the center of delsol seats.

-- the asterisks:

did you know that the 1993 mazda mx3 four-cylinder produced only 88 horsepower? oh, pitiful, you say. yet, if it returned today, this three-spoke steering, am/fm/tape player, aqua-painted, bubble-shaped motorized seatbelt machine might shock the fucking world.

1993 was an imperfect year.
we'd jet back in a heartbeat.

can't, of course.
so where do we find shelter?

well, you already know my answer.
you may disagree tonight;
soon, you'll come around.

or, friend, you will wait. thirsting.