Back in the sixties, “sports car” meant wire wheels. Tweed caps. Driving elbow-deep into twisting country lanes. By the seventies and eighties? That label just slapped over any sedan with separate front seats. Madison Avenue hype. Pure marketing.
Then came the nineties. Engineers went wild. Global competition meant everything. Carmakers revved their R&D departments until the gears sparked. So where does that leave the actual sports car?
Mazda asked the hard question with their new RX-7. They called it a “return of the pure sports car.” Their pitch? While everyone else made cars bigger and heavier, they went smaller. Lighter. Simpler. No gimmicks.
That statement makes everyone nervous. Auto builders and fans alike. Why? Because modern family haulers are engineering marvels now. Comfort. Economy. Reliability. But sports cars? They’re supposed to be fun. Not engineered fortresses.
“Are we losing sight of what made driving fun?”
We passed the open-air curtain era. Moved to crank-up windows. Then we landed here: full power steering. Brakes. Windows. Seats. Air conditioning. The fat-cat Buick standard applied to a two-seater. Heavy. Complicated. Is it still fun? Or is it just loud?
Mazda promised a reset. Speed without the weight penalty. So we took the RX-7—priced between $30,001 and $35,013 estimated—and threw it into a mix-up with the competition. We went to the Carolina hills. Track time. Twisties. Soul searching.
Here’s how four very different machines stack up against the question: What is speed for?
The British Idiosyncrasy
Lotus Elan
4th Place
Let’s talk about the rare one first. Only 300 Elans sold in the U.S. at the time. You haven’t seen this car. Most people don’t know it exists. It drew crowds at a car wash in Asheville while the flashy new RX-7 sat unnoticed nearby.
Tiny. Narrower than the Mazda. Sixteen inches shorter. The cockpit? Wide enough for you, cramped if you’re six-foot-four. Tall drivers need more seat travel. There’s no briefcase space. Forget it.
But there is a trunk. Soft luggage fits. The top goes down. The roof stays up.
Driving it wakes old ghosts. The body shakes a bit. Open-air cars always do. Wind noise is part of the package. The shifter? Silky smooth. The engine buzzes high and frantic, reminding you constantly that this is just a four-cylinder.
Comfort was not the goal. Lumbar support exists. Side bolsters do not. You brace your butt against the door panel. Which is far away. No dead pedal either. The dash looks pretty but fights the sun glare. Red markings on black backgrounds are hard to read when the sun hits just right.
Mazda talks light weight as holy gospel. Lotus listens. This thing tips the scales at 2452 lbs. Three hundred fifty pounds less than the Mazda.
It drives surprisingly neutral on track. No front-drive numbness. But the feedback is muted. You skim the limit without knowing quite where the tires are biting. And front-drive has tricks. One tester hit a corner too hot, eased off the gas to fix it, and slid into oblivion for miles. Because letting off power unweights the front wheels in this car. Wrong move.
- Pros: Turbo styling, easy top, slick shifting.
- Cons: Noisy four-cylinder, pricey, lacking outright pace.
- Verdict: The Richard Simmons of speedsters. Thin. Active. Not quite the powerhouse he wants you to believe.
It’s idiosyncratic. More interested in style than speed.
American Brute Force
Chevrolet Corvette
3rd Place
This is the Big Iron philosophy. A five-liter V8 making 300 hp. A six-speed transmission. Massive 275-series Goodyears. And a footprint that dominates.
Getting in feels like climbing a tree. You dodge the door frame. Duck under the roof line. Twist yourself into those bucket seats. The steering is heavy. The clutch is thick. The shift stick requires actual effort. You pull back the hammer to fire this thing.
The LT1 engine is magnificent. It pulls hard all the way to 5500 RPM. The noise? Perfect. V-8 thunder. It hits 0-60 faster than anyone here. The quarter mile took 13.6 seconds. The tires grip fiercely, stopping the beast in 166 feet.
Does it handle like a go-kart? No.
Opinions split the room. Racers loved it. Street drivers complained the steering was too quick and the brakes felt mushy under light pressure. Transferring load on lift-off caused a nervous shimmy. Dial the shocks stiff. The shakiness fades.
But here is the kicker. The Corvette actually won the track test. By a tenth of a second over the Mazda. Barely statistically significant, yes. But faster. And softer on the backroad when the shocks are dialled to ‘plush.’ It even drank slightly less fuel on the highway, thanks to a tall sixth gear.
- Pros: Huge engine power, decent ride, aggressive looks.
- Cons: Hard to enter/exit, noisy drivetrain internals, bulky.
- Verdict: The most macho car here.
The voters loved and hated it. Nobody placed it higher than third. Nobody put it below. Polarizing. Just like the car itself.
The New Benchmark
Mazda RX-7
2nd Place
Wait. Second? Behind a front-drive roadster and an American tank? Two points off the winner.
Mazda tilted the board on purpose. They stripped the fat. Look at the oil dipstick handle. Tiny. Wire thin. Weight reduction isn’t just for parts lists, it’s an ideology. 2800 lbs total. That is 600 pounds lighter than the Corvette. Over 700 pounds less than a Nissan 300ZX.
But inside? Spacious. More legroom than the Lotus. More headroom. Briefcases fit. Cargo holds shoes unless you buy the Bose speaker package (which is loud but bulky).
Mazda paired light weight with twin turbo power. The primary spool fires early, killing the lag usually associated with these engines. The torque curve feels muscular. There is some jerkiness in throttle transition. You notice it.
Nothing was compromised elsewhere. Torsen limited-slip differential. Standard anti-lock brakes. Vented discs everywhere. Dual-cone synchros in the first three gears so downshifts are instant. The tachometer dominates the dash. The buttons are round and readable. The lateral seat support keeps your butt pinned when you turn the wheel.
It still has the modern amenities—A/C, power windows. It packs the luxury tech into a frame that refuses to feel heavy. The tested R1 trim has more aero drag than the base model but kills the lift.
The numbers don’t lie. Top speed 159 MPH. Cornering grip at a massive 0.97 gs on our skidpad. Controls are light. Direct.
However… the nerves are real. Low-profile tires make steering twitchy on broken roads. It reminded us of older, harsh Corvettes. Less severe. But there. And at the edge, when the turns open up at speed…
