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There’s a certain romantic ideal that comes with owning a convertible sports car. Being part of the environment while enjoying the song of a multi-cam engine combine to create a magical atmosphere, one that makes the suffering of a long winter easily forgotten. That’s what drew me to small convertible sports cars in the first place, and it’s what has always brought me back to them.
For me, twisty-road trips on a temperate spring day were once the stuff dreams (and stress relief) were made of. Not long ago, the keys to happiness on such drives were simple: Leave early, before traffic builds, and stick to roads less traveled. Now, those pointers are no longer valid.
On a recent Saturday, my wife and I jumped into the Miata to take the long way — the really long way — to meet friends at a restaurant roughly equidistant between us. We wound our way south, into Massachusetts, then west, into New York, headed for the small-ish hamlet of New Paltz. We weren’t 20 minutes from home before we ran into the first road clot.
Back-road wandering and day trips seems harder, and less enjoyable, than it used to be.
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