A French estate filled with the paraphernalia of a doomed Easter camping trip (including children) is not the ideal means to tackle the Wrynose and Hardknott passes. In fact not many cars are truly suited to this wondrous piece of road. Many are capable (including, eventually, the overladen 407) but few are actually enjoyable. The road is narrower than an Alaskan Senator’s world view, so anything that struggles in a normal parking space (ie most modern hatchbacks) feels slightly too big. A Lambo simply wouldn’t fit. The Lakeland tarmac is bumpy too. Bumpy enough that speed has to be tempered considerably for the sake of splitters and sumps. Try to reach the national speed limit and in most stretches all you’ll achieve is the sound of graunching metal or plastic, the road grazing your car as wincingly as it did your knee when you were a child.
All of which was a bit worrying when we turned up here. The last time I came this way I had my nose pressed against the glass of the back window of a car during the school holidays. The awe-inspiring fairytale scenery of the place obviously made an impression that meant I was drawn back. However, I was now seeking out a road that my memory had transformed into two perfect natural hillclimbs. The reality is a road that is the steepest in Britain (the Hardknott) and potentially a nightmare to drive.
But as luck would have it (and I assure you it is luck) we have brought the perfect cars here. This year marks the 20th anniversary of the launch of the Mazda MX-5 and we could think of no better way to celebrate than by bringing together the original and the latest incarnations of the little roadster. It helps that the recently face-lifted mk3 (already dubbed 3.5) sees a return to form after an inexplicable blip.
The MX-5 was designed to invoke the joy of motoring in its simplest and most uncomplicated form. It sought to recapture what people remembered motoring being like: freedom and fun, deserted roads, the carefree attitudes of the 1960s, Spitfires and Midgets. Mazda wanted to take all that and then rose-tint it with reliability.
The result was the mk1 MX-5 (or Eunos in Japan and Miata stateside). With its 1.6-litre in-line four designed to look like a Lotus twin-cam and sound like an MGB (though people forget that it also went into a 323 saloon) the little roadster would reach 60mph in a leisurely sounding 9.0sec. Twenty years later and the new 2.0i Sport has brought that down to 7.6, but as we’re about to be reminded, 0-60 has never been what the MX-5 is all about.
The red car feels surprisingly familiar after the blue one. According to owner Peter Esders (a man who would probably say ‘Mazda MX-5’ if John Humphrys were ever to ask him for his specialist subject) the only part that is common to all three series is the side indicator repeaters. However, the layout of the dials, the position of the switchgear, the easy one-handed operation of the roof and the general intimacy are all identical despite being two decades apart. Even the very tight gearshift seems the same as it positively releases from one ratio then equally positively slots into the next across the short gate. If only Mazda could have kept the pop-up headlights…
The mk1 feels slow to react after driving the mk3 – a little more roll to be overcome, a little more sidewall to be squidged. But this is part of the magic, because where it takes slightly longer to turn and lean into a corner it also spends longer actually in the process of cornering and whilst it’s pressing on its outside tyres you can adjust its attitude gracefully and in an extended fashion. A corner in the grippy mk3 seems to last the length of a short YouTube clip, whereas in the mk1 it lasts the length of a director’s cut feature film. String several corners together and the mk1 flows continuously as it delicately transfers its 970kg from left to right, almost giving you enough time to shift and reposition yourself in the narrow seat as it changes direction. There isn’t really the power to work the rear tyres very hard (unless it’s wet) yet still all four are involved as the balance reacts to lifts of the throttle or dabs of the brake or changes in lock.
In many ways it feels like the differences between new and old are simply wrought by the growth in wheel and tyre diameters over the years. The little 14in Minilite-alikes, wearing 185/60 Pirelli P6000s on this car, are dwarfed by the spidery 17-inchers clothed in 205/45 Bridgestone Potenzas. The relief is that despite the bigger rims the new car deals with bumps as well as the original. It never once thumps or jolts during our day on the passes and although it doesn’t quite float over the road like the older car, neither does it feel quite so bendy in its chassis!
As we crest the top of the Wrynose Pass heading back towards Little Langdale, the road drops away again and momentarily there seems to be nothing at the end of the bonnet other than clouds scudding in the strong breeze. Then the rollercoaster dives down and twists out ahead. When you’re heading down a steep hill, gravity instils a strong temptation to use the brakes more than you actually need to. But despite the freewheeling feeling of falling there is still grip to be had and if you’re brave enough to hold your right foot back from the middle pedal it’s an exhilarating rush downhill, threading and sweeping through the rocks faster than feels natural.
What was required was poise, a small footprint and not a lot else. In a world where authorities seem to want to strangle the speed of cars more and more, it’s a philosophy that will become ever more relevant and one that we should embrace. If we do, with luck we’ll be holding up a mk6 MX-5 as a beacon for driving in another 20 years.