The Story
     When I bought my first RX-7, boy was I a happy customer. What a cherry! A dream come true. The previous owner took good care of it, it had low miles for its age, it was in great condition, very pleasing to the eye and it was my very first car. What more could a teenager ask for?
     I had driven my mom's 88 Tercel DX for quite some time so it was defintely a dramatic transition when I switched to the Mazda. Going from automatic to manual transmission, front-wheel to rear-wheel drive, naturally-aspirated to turbo-charged engine... the list goes on.
     I was so delighted with this vehicle that it got to my head. Not that I got conceited or anything, but very proud. Too proud. Every time I had the chance to gaze at my car, I would either say outloud or to myself, "Praise God for blessing me with such an awesome car". I loved my RX-7. Eventually, this grew to shifting the praise to the car itself. Essentially, what had happened was that I had robbed God's glory and gave it to the hunk of metal instead, to paraphrase Loren Cunningham's writing.
     Fast-forward a few months and you will find myself cruising in Upstate New York. Speaking of cruising in NY, the drive to work was a pleasure. It consisted of various windy roads and twisty corners surrounded by the beautiful scenery of lush, green trees and fresh-smelling farmland that is the country-side of New York. I love NY. I even have the shirt. Anyhoo, back to the story...

     Everyone got off work early so it wasn't too dark to go exploring in unfamiliar territory. I had heard about a mall down the highway so I decided to go for it. I get a little spirited in my driving so it wasn't a surprise when I missed the speed limit sign go from 65 to 55 and getting clocked at 80 from the highway patrol. I knew I had done wrong and easily accepted the speeding ticket with no regret.
     I would imagine anybody having just received a ticket to obey the laws posted closely for at least the next few days or hours, even minutes for that matter and so I did. This is where the story gets interesting... No more than 5 minutes later after saying farewell to the pig, I'm now cruising on lane 2 of 2 at the posted speed limit of 65 on 87 North towards the mall. A vehicle on lane 1 passes me followed by the large, commercial driver with 18 wheels who is pushing him. The commercial driver stays on my side steadily and a few seconds later, I notice something changing in the corner of my eye.
     It was the commercial driver with his turn signals flashing, merging into my lane! Did he not see me? Apparently not as his front right wheel drilled into my left door reminescent of the chariot race in Ben-Hur. This shove in "turn", "drove" my instincts to countersteer to regain control, which in another "turn" (puns intended) induced my RX-7 to miraculously perform a 360-degrees spin to the left. It was all happening so fast but as I try to recall the event, I did, in fact recover from the spin but it was too late as I hit the rail on the left which stopped all the kinetic energy, the disorientation, and the accident like the apex of a rising climax in the final scene of some action movie.
     I was shocked. Almost breathless. It was a bright and sunny day with clear, blue skies and fair winds. Excellent road conditions, mind you. I followed the speed limit and I was staying on my own lane for quite some time already. I drove flawlessly, like a perfectionist.

     When the state troopers came, you could imagine what they saw. A mature, professional, commercial driver versus a young, Asian punk with a sporty ride. Not surprisingly, they did not believe my side of the story. The guy who hit me said that he did not see me. Bull$#!t. I was there.
     But since I'm a nice guy, I'll give him that. The field of vision from his truck was on a much higher plane compared to the one I get from the low profile of my car. I admit, sometimes I can't find my car in the parking lot because it naturally sits lower than all the other cars around it, thanks to the compact design of the rotary engine which enables the manufacturer to make the car that low and oh so beautiful. Ahem.
     Luckily for me, there were other drivers on the highway and one of those New Yorkers had called the authorities with their cell phone of what had taken place. It's a cell phone world, I tell ya. It's a cell phone world.
     One thing I want to share with you readers out there is that I have not cried about this tragedy. From the moment I got hit to the time I'm typing these words, I have not shed a tear in the least. That is the power of shock. Usually, I like to avoid sobbing because I'm a man and all. However, in this case, I want to mourn for my baby. This is such a sad story, wouldn't you agree? And it had to happen to me.
     Funny how the day this happened is dated May 11, 2002. A day I like to call 5-11; "a day which will live in infamy." I believe God took away my RX-7. Only recently did I finally figure this out. I'm currently reading "Is That Really You, God?" and that is how He has spoken to me.

     Rather than give up my RX-7 love, I tried to recover it by buying another Gen2 RX-7 Turbo. What a mistake. A lemon in the purest form. The previous owner was shady, everything I asked if it had worked didn't when he said it did, too many miles, I paid more than I should have, and it was dirty! Furthermore, it has become a money pit. Oh my gosh, I want to let out so many curse words right here, right now but I won't because I want to maintain William Wang Online's reputation. Haha.
     What I should have done, was let my RX-7 dreams die so that it could have been resurrected like Lazarus maybe in the form of another car. Instead, it's like i'm trying to heal the sick with cough syrup. Presently, my RX-7 does not work at all and I'm still making payments on the loan. A low blow, I know. Morale of the story? God is one jealous dude. Fear Him, if you know what's good for you. Pretty heavy stuff, huh? No, there is nothing wrong with the Earth's gravitational pull.