
I’ve noticed over the past several months a certain shift in my attitudes toward driving. It’s a disconnect. I simply can’t find that groove these days. If you’re any kind of enthusiast (and you must be if you put up with our nonsense) then you know what I’m getting at. Every auto writer has waxed philosophical at one time or another about the connection between man and machine and how, from time to time, the elements come together to form a rare moment of perfect automotive bliss. Sometimes it’s triggered by the perfect road; sometimes it comes from having the perfect car. Hell, sometimes it happens when you’re stuck in traffic on a beautiful evening with the breeze coming through the windows of your ‘94 Caravan while one of your favorite songs crackles from the half-shot factory speakers. It’s in that confluence of events that we remember why we love what we do and why we’re willing to make sacrifices for it.
But those moments are few and far between for me these days and more and more I’ve come to realize it’s a product of my living situation. I have a super convenient apartment and a catered commute. I don’t need to drive at all during the week. Hell, I don’t want to either, because you can’t go more than ten miles in any direction before sunset without hitting traffic. Weekday or weekend, driving anywhere around here is a chore. When you’re at least 40 minutes from the closest two-lane that isn’t littered with cops or traffic signals (or both), just getting to the open roads sucks most of the joy out of driving them.
And any icebreaker conversation inevitably leads to the same question: “Wait a second, you live in an apartment in Alexandria and you own four cars?”
Yep. Four cars. And last week, when we hosted Mazda’s latest 3, it was five.
Continue reading Lord Byron — Driven: A Speed:Sport:Life Road Test of the 2010 Mazda3








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