Okay, I admit it. When I heard the official horsepower number for the US-market variant of the next-generation MX-5—and that number is 155, in case you've been crossing the Atlantic on a sailboat during the last few days—my first reaction was that kind of deflation you get when a pawnshop owner tells you what he's actually willing to pay for your "luxury" watch. Oof. That's not a lot. I thought it would be more. Hoped it would be more. Oof. And that reaction came after I'd thoroughly enjoyed myself for two hours behind the wheel of a Miata with 24 fewer horsepower than we'll get in the States.

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Over the past two days, I've been reading hundreds of Internet forum posts concerning the new MX-5's dip in power compared to the previous model. I'd say that the people who think the new car is underpowered outnumber—or at least out-shout—the people who think it's fine by a ratio of two or maybe even three to one.

I've read arguments on both sides. I've referred to my own notes and watched my own video from the long-lead event in Barcelona, noting speeds and acceleration.

After a considerable amount of thought, I've come down on the side that thinks the weight savings and purity of purpose displayed by the new MX-5 more than make up for the modest power.

No, scratch that.

I haven't just decided that the two-liter SKYACTIV Miata is strong enough. I've actually found myself getting angry with the people who feel differently about it. Not only have they forgotten what a Miata needs to be, they're trying to bully Mazda, and the rest of us, into forgetting as well.

I think it was last month's issue of this very magazine that caused me to get a bit riled up. We've got a great test, written by Jason Cammisa, of three high-powered hatchbacks. Or CUVs, or four-door activity coupes, or whatever we're calling the descendants of the original RAV4 nowadays. Whatever they are, they're big, heavy, and absurdly fast. Two of them turn a twelve-second quarter-mile—that kind of fast. (The slowpoke of the group, the Audi SQ5, can only manage a 13.1.) The heaviest of them is 4542 pounds—about half a ton heavier than a '77 Caprice—and the lightest is 3637. All three have about as much torque and horsepower as Sonny Crockett's Testarossa and they're all four-wheel-drive to boot.

Mazda

In his article, Jason does a great job of explaining how fun these cars can be to drive, if you like that sort of thing. You know, if you really enjoy the feeling of massive power overcoming massive weight. Don't get me wrong. There's always been a certain thrill in pushing the laws of physics to the max, whether it was in the form of a Callaway Sledgehammer or the Maybach 57S. My 2014 Honda Accord Coupe makes more power than my 1995 Porsche 911 Carrera 2 and I wouldn't have it any other way. We're in the golden era of big horsepower and the massive curb weights that seem to accompany it.

It's the experience of the thing, not the numbers.

Want a family sedan with 400 horsepower? There are a half-dozen to choose from. A top-drawer luxury car with 500? It's harder to find nowadays to find one that doesn't spin the dyno to that number. Want a supercar with 600? Hope you've got all day to shop. Small-town domestic dealers offer twin-turbo pickup trucks and SUVs with all-aluminum six-liter V8s. I've set lap times in rental Toyota Camrys that would have earned me pole position in IMSA Kelly American races from the 1970s.

With most of these cars, you make speed on a back road like so: Accelerate at escape-velocity speed towards corner. Hit the monster brakes as hard as you can and let off when you think you've judged corner speed perfectly. Get through corner by relying on the massive tires and the stability control. When you see the exit, mash the gas and let the AWD/trick diff/Red-Bull-Racing-caliber traction control figure it out. Rinse and repeat until you're out of brakes, sitting in jail, or burned beyond recognition. If you're brave and skilled, you can make massive pace, but after a while it frays your nerves and drains all of the fun out of your favorite back road.

2016 Mazda Miata in action Mazda

That's not how it's done in a Miata. To begin with, you're not standing on the brakes for Every. Single. Turn. You're conserving momentum and bending in as smoothly as possible. Right away you're enjoying yourself more because you're not a minor middle-pedal mistake away from ending up on a ventilator. Instead, you're enjoying the rush of the motor towards the corner. Once you're past the braking point, you can adjust the car with the throttle and steering however you like. The lack of inertia means you can make changes quickly without worrying about looping the thing.

You're connected to the road. The steering's alive in your hands because it's not tasked with controlling the weight of two Winston Cup cars. You're close to the tarmac, not insulated by a four-inch suspension lift and six inches of Dynamat and active noise cancellation through a nineteen-speaker stereo. The absolute limits of the car are lower but you can get much closer to them. It's the difference between hearing Steely Dan on a great phonograph and listening to Rihanna being played at a distance through a thousand-watt mini-truck sound system. It's the experience of the thing, not the numbers. It's getting the most out of yourself and the automobile through finesse and skill, not beating the route into submission via twin turbochargers and 295-width tires.

Mazda

I can hear you now. "We aren't griping that the Miata doesn't have 400 horsepower, you moron; we're griping that it doesn't have 200." Well, two hundred horsepower means a few things. It means stronger running gear, five-lug wheels, a heavier differential, bigger wheel bearings. All of those things add weight, which means that you need a heavier suspension. Which means that you need a thicker body. Which means that pretty soon you've got a BMW Z4.

Which is currently for sale at your local dealer with a minimum of 240 turbocharged horsepower and a curb weight about a thousand pounds above that of the Miata. It's out there. You can buy it. Right now.

What you cannot currently buy is a trim and fit roadster that weighs just over a ton and is a true pleasure to drive even with 131 (DIN) horsepower, to say nothing of 155. You cannot currently buy a roadster of that size and weight from anyone, really, and you certainly cannot buy one that carries on a tradition of exceptionally durable and reliable vehicles like R&T's own "Million Mile Miata". Sure, it would be great if the MX-5 had more power, but adding power wouldn't be without consequences and changes and adjustments and at the end of that road you have the Mercedes-Benz SL65 AMG. Which is a brilliant and delightful vehicle but it's not the only hugely powerful and massive two-seater money can buy.

When the new MX-5 arrives, it will represent a rather daring bet on Mazda's part that there are still drivers out there who can recognize and appreciate a traditional sports car. Those drivers will recall that the MG-TC was easy prey for the Chevrolets of the era and that the "Big Healey" wasn't very big and that Dustin Hoffman drove to the church in an Alfa which probably didn't make all 109 of its rated horsepower. Those drivers will understand and respect the freedom and joy to be had in an automobile which can be driven enthusiastically without needing to plan a funeral for the tires and brake pads.

No, the 155-horsepower MX-5 won't be for everybody, but that's okay. The people who can't understand it have a hundred other options from which to choose, and the people who can understand it don't really care what anybody else thinks.

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