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1993 Mazda RX-7 Retro Review | A '90s hero turns 25

Boom times build interesting cars. In the late 1980s, Japan was flush with capital, and automakers spent like the party was never going to end. Suddenly building the third-generation RX-7 — the world's most advanced twin-turbo rotary sports car — seemed like the most natural thing a small car company hailing from Hiroshima could do. On this side of the Pacific, however, there was no context for the sudden influx of unusually tricked-out Japanese hardware flooding American dealerships. And none of the Japanese sports cars of the era was more unusual than the FD-generation Mazda RX-7, imported from 1993 to 1995 (and continuing on in Japan until 2002). Although the island nation's economy was headed on a downward spiral by the end of 1990, Mazda was in no position to pull back and walk away from the development dollars that had already been spent on its latest RX-7. As a result, Americans were able to briefly bask in the glow of one of the most unique engineering experiments ever unleashed on unsuspecting buyers. For its time, the Mazda RX-7 was a spaceship. With fluid lines that screamed "exotic," it joined the NSX in showing that supercars didn't have to have European blue blood running in their cooling systems to elegantly snag eyeballs. The twin-rotor, 1.3-liter 13B-REW situated behind the RX-7's front axle revved all the way to 8,000 rpm on its quest to produce 255 horsepower and 217 pound-feet of torque, with a pair of sequential turbos handing boost duties back and forth around the 4,500 rpm mark. A five-speed manual gearbox was standard with the FD (a four-speed automatic was optional), as was a curb weight in the neighborhood of 2,800 pounds — nearly 500 lbs less than the contemporary Toyota Supra. Significant figures for the era, to be sure. While they might pale in comparison to the average sports car today, slide into the RX-7's cockpit and drive the car, rather than just crunch the numbers. You'll quickly discover what can be accomplished when the company that engineered the Miata pulls a full John Hammond and "spares no expense" developing a world-beating sports car platform. The 1993 Mazda RX-7 I've been loaned from Mazda's classic collection is an R1 car, which means tighter suspension tuning, a few cosmetic upgrades, and a Competition Yellow paint job.

Crash test videos show how rust compromises safety

These recently released Swedish videos serve as a reminder that rust isn't just a cosmetic flaw, when it comes to cars. The insurance company Folksam and the homeowner organization Villaagarnas Riksforbund gathered examples of two relatively popular, but by now rusty cars, and then performed crash tests with them at the Thatcham Research facility in Britain. The results are sobering. The rustier cars chosen for the tests were first-generation Mazda6s, cars that have a reputation for early-onset rust in salty surroundings, such as the Nordic countries in Europe or the Salt Belt in the U.S. The cars in the other end of the spectrum were fifth-generation Volkswagen Golfs, which thanks to their body treatment only really start to show rust at over ten years old. But rust isn't just on the surface, it goes bone deep. While the Mazda did decently well in Euro NCAP testing as a new car, there's now a 20 percent higher risk of death in the 2003-2008 Mazda due to the degradation of its bodyshell. In the rusty car, the chassis rail separates from the floor, the footwell ruptures, the sill gives way, the seat mountings move and the dummy's head hits the B-pillar; all important failures, despite Thatcham saying the cars actually performed better in the crashes than they expected with all the rust. But still, the corroded structure isn't able to transmit loads in the way it was originally designed to do. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. The Golf does significantly better — despite rust flakes flying when the Golf hits the wall — as the years have only caused it to lose a single point. An important thing to remember is that the cars aren't tested in comparison to corresponding new, 2018 cars: the tests are in reference to the crashworthiness standards in place when they were new. The cars' airbags inflate like they were supposed to, but on the Mazda the dummy's head bottoms out the airbag due to the car's structure failing, meaning the airbag cannot perform as designed. Driven cautiously, an older car is still mostly fine for driving around. But tests like these remind us that it's not enough that a car runs and drives, if the body has turned into Swedish knackebrod. And if you repair the visible rust and the structure underneath remains as compromised as ever, there's an ugly truth under all the bondo. Perhaps it isn't such a bad idea to have yearly roadworthiness inspections.

Driving classic Mazdas to experience the weird and wonderful rotary's triumph

AUGSBURG, Germany — Everything weird and wonderful about Mazda's relationship with the Wankel rotary engine is embodied in the delightful 110S Cosmo Sport of 1967. Just shy of 1,200 were built and, for most of its life, it remained a Japanese curio. Driving one is a rare privilege, and yet here I am, leading a convoy of owners through Bavaria away from a private museum holding the most extensive collection of Mazdas outside of Japan. Created by local franchise holder Walter Frey, what started out as a business relationship in the 1970s has blossomed into a lifetime love affair. Whether the residents of Augsburg are quite so enamoured is another question. As I leave the museum I pass a sign proclaiming my entry into an "umwelt zone" for low-emissions vehicles. The oil-tinged plume of smoke in my wake rather makes a mockery and underlines one reason there are no rotary engines in the current Mazda product range. Created by a German but perfected by the Japanese, it seems appropriate to celebrate the association with the Wankel engine here. Mazda may have gone on to sell nearly 2 million rotary-engined cars to the world — the U.S. included — but 50 years ago it brought two Cosmos to the Nurburgring and entered them into the grueling Marathon de la Route as a proof of concept. After 84 hours of continuous running and a fourth-place overall finish, Mazda had demonstrated to the world a rotary could stay the distance. I have a slightly less grueling schedule but look forward to following the instructions to rev the hell out of the Cosmo to clear the smoke out of its system. Those following me will certainly be hoping this does the trick. A thirst for oil as well as gasoline isn't the only rotary trait. The two chambers of its motor displace 491 cc apiece, equivalent to about 2.0 liters in a regular reciprocating design. In this second-series car, it delivers around 128 horsepower, which drives the rear wheels through the transmission's five gears. There doesn't seem to be a whole lot of progress in any of them, truth be told, the characteristic lack of torque making for more noise than meaningful acceleration. It's a small car and weighs just more than 2,000 pounds, with a power-to-weight ratio not far off that of an original NA Miata. But it's one for carrying speed, not building it. The wood-rimmed Nardi wheel is one piece of luxury in an otherwise functional, vinyl-trimmed cabin, and through it the Cosmo has a nice blend of stability and agility.