This is a 2005 Suzuka Blue Honda S2000. There are many like it, but this one is mine. That was the thought coursing through me as I drove away from the dealership the day of purchase.
3 months I spent lurking online (szki.com), learning about maintenance costs, mechanical flaws, pricing, and general owner feedback.
Every time I passed by the Honda dealership, I would look around. See which colors were on the lot. Some days it would be “Silverstone†metallic; others “Grand Prix†white, even a few “Imola†oranges. All the cars were named after racetracks. The available colors were cool, but not my thing.
One day driving by the stealership… err… I mean dealership; we noticed an unmistakable silhouette of an S2000 in the showroom. I normally stay away from the shark pit, oops, I mean showroom, but this time, encouraged by my friend (Tommy from BoyBatter), I decided to go on in. Due to the buildings tinted glass, the color would remain a mystery until I was brave enough to open the door. I gripped the door handle with a nervous, sweaty grip, swung it open, and immediately fell in love. ♥
The color you ask? “Suzuka Blue Metallicâ€, named after a track in Japan. It just happens that it’s my favorite track in the video game “Gran Turismoâ€. So it was a double bonus.
At first I was skeptical on the color. Online pictures of it did it little to no justice. But in person, Bravo! It looked so creamy, clean, and sparkly. A dealer approached with a smile and kindly removed a sign, on the hood, that read “DO NOT TOUCHâ€. Without further invitation, Tommy and I got in the car. It felt good sliding into its supple blue interior. It smelled so new a shower was needed to get the newness scent off. The interior was so inviting. Felt like a leather-lined cachet. Small and comfy. Verry purpose built.
Steering wheel felt nicely padded, seats snug, and pedals sooo closely spaced, they just begged for heel and toe action at the track.
The drive home was a thrill. Blue (nickname Tommy gave it) purred like a bad little kitten. Tommy and I did some stoplight to stop light shenanigans that had me smiling so much my cheeks hurt from it. Even the shifting was outstanding, better than the feel of a rifle bolt on a hunting rifle.
A few weeks later, friends and I caravanned up to Virginia International Raceway, a.k.a. V.I.R. We had a friend there whose company had rented out the track for the day to compare the grip of his tires versus the competition. He let us have full run of the track once the car magazines finished their own independent tests. From this day forward, Blue would slowly change.
After three laps around V.I.R., Blue let me know of his shortcomings… Power! Racing around a track occupied by Corvettes made me feel so slow.
Even though Blue clocked consistent times on the track, I wanted more go.
After some online research, I found a shop located in Northern Virginia called Inline Pro. They definitely had what I needed for more power… a turbo kit! I began reading the 16 digits of my credit card number, when the shop owner interrupts me with a warning, “The additional power will unstabilize the car, many other components would have to be upgraded as well.†Whatever, I thought (I was cocky), and continued with payment info.
7 days later, UPS leaves several large boxes at my doorstep. Amazed I was at how many pieces were part of this kit. Bewildered I became upon finding no assembly instructions. Rolling up my sleeves “no sweat†I thought and headed for battle in the garage. What I thought would be no harder than an erector set, ended up bruising my ego in 1 day.
I got nowhere and knew it quick. Tommy came by and made the suggestion of turning the surgery over to Millennium Autosports, out of Portsmouth, Virginia.
I explained to the shop owner that the internet advertising promoted the kit as a project for be-ginners. The ad said “simple installâ€, I told him. He responded with “Yeah, simple if you have done it a bunch of times, in a shop with lots of tools.†We negotiated an install price and I hesitantly handed over the keys. 420 horsepower later, I was glad I did.
Since Blue spent more time on the track than on the street, I ran the risk of having the driver air bag blow up in my face while lightly tapping a competitor’s back bumper (trading paint). Something I avoided, but still happened occasionally.
During some research, I decided on the Spoon Sports (a Japanese tuning company) steering wheel. It was light, ergonomic, and, best of all, looked cool!
I spent about 4 days locating the part. Everywhere I called, the response was the same, “sorry noâ€, “It’s a made to order part onlyâ€, and my favorite, “out-of-stockâ€. Painfully reaching the bottom of the barrel, I hit pay dirt. A company out of California advertised itself as a Spoon Sports distributor. A young woman answered the phone with a friendly “Helloâ€. At first she gave me the same disappointing news, but placed me on hold quickly before I could utter a word of disappointment. She returned to me excitedly, explaining how her father was at the Spoon factory in Japan. She told me that her father would pick one up before his return flight and bring it to the states as a carry-on. Fully excited, I provided my payment information. She also discounted the part since her father would not pay the import or shipment container fees.
A week later the part arrived to me with a note from the owner, Mr. Lin, “You should have seen the look on the customs officer’s face when I showed the wheel as my item to declare.â€
The added power of Blue bounced me around while hard cornering at the track. Even though I was properly restrained for everyday street driving, it was useless around the corners of V.I.R. While price shopping, I lucked out and found a forum member on szki.com parting out his “Show Queen†(a poser with real race parts). He had the exact seats and 5-point seat belts I was looking for. Through multiple private messages, he named a price I would not refuse, then sent his phone number to make arrangements.
As I dialed his number, I noticed that his member name was “krazy koreanâ€, he lived up to it.
Communication was tough! He huffed and puffed, mostly because we could barely understand each other. Plus he was hard of hearing (say again!)
Two weeks later the seats arrive. They looked so mint I doubted they were used (a true show queen). The seats were beautiful, finished in the same blue as the factory seats. Waaay lighter too!
The green “Tahata†harnesses were mint as well, with over 3 years left on the “FIA†tag of offi-cial race use. (FIA equipment has expiration dates.) The seats and belts were more than I needed, but all that I wanted.
Justin (from BoyBatter) was hanging out with me that day, so I quickly “volunteered†him to help me in installation.
Justin and I spent the whole day, into the night, performing the install. Removing the stockers and swapping in the new ones was harder than we thought. Justin’s little hands came in handy when tightening bolts in hard to reach places. Multiple trips to the hardware store slowed us down too. But our biggest handicap was the multiple Corona’s Justin kept smuggling into the garage. Taught us that drinking and wrenching was just as dumb as drinking and driving.
Once completed, Justin hopped in one of them and secured the belts around himself. He looked like an over-grown trailer park baby with a beer bottle instead of a binky.
Joe (Trent) walked into the garage once all the labor was done. His encouraging comment was, “Yeah, like you really need all that just to drive to Burger Kingâ€.
The additional power and the added seats encouraged me to go faster and faster at the track. 3 close calls later, I decided to add a roll bar. It was either that or “slow down†a track official said. Wanting to continue my high-speed bravado, I went with the first option. Since I was giving in to the rules of “the manâ€, I decided to do it in style and ordered a 4-point chromoly roll bar (in blue, for Blue) from a popular racing manufacturer out of Japan called “Cusco†(not Costco… LOL). After waiting an eternity for its arrival (2months), it finally arrived. The installation of my newest ego… err… safety device was a total BITCH!
I so regretted going with an option (A). Sever boys from BoyBatter were enlisted for this project (it takes a village to build a car), however only Justin and Tommy were worth a damn. Justin was the true trooper of the operation. The entire interior was removed and placed back together (including the pain in the ass seats) several times, until we got it right. The rear tires had to be removed, the fuel filler and entire trunk carpeting was also removed. Justin became a pro text messaging with one finger his “hoochy mama’s†while wrenching with his other hand. 3 weekends of bruised knuckles, cussing, and sweaty nuts later, we finally tightened the last bolt… or so we thought. Justin and I sneaked two cigars out of a secret stash (Trent) and along with some stomp hole whiskey (moonshine), quietly celebrated in the garage while picking up our tools. Justin noticed a peculiar smell coming from the real of Blue. Upon closer inspection, we quickly stomped out the cigars after we noticed that the fuel lines were loose still and the filler undone. Oops!
Knowing that the Virginia wet and chilly season had arrived, Millennium Auto gave me a call asking how I was “enjoying the carâ€.
I told them that I loved it. Also explained to them that the drive, from my home to the local bur-rito bar was exhilarating.
Then the head of the shop made a sneaky sales pitch. After massaging my ego and pumping my imagination with tales of more power, I gave in and dropped Blue off for his next round of surgeries.
A bigger turbo, a tweak here, a turn there, and a few months later (Easter ’07) and Blue was dropped off at my doorstep. The shop owner (Gary) walked around the car with me explaining all the things performed. The minute the hood was propped open I could tell that Blue was all business. The new snail (turbo) was bigger than my …
Anywho, I turned the key and immediately goose bumps decorated my arms. The car’s melodious cacophony of new mechanical sounds filled the atmosphere. Deep bass made your torso vibrate. I love the smell of race gas in the morning!
Fully entrance by Blue’s new evil ways, I placed him in 1st gear and dabbed some throttle and the most amazing thing happened… Nothing! The back stock tires spun so fast I did not move at all. The shop owner approached the driver side slowly, leaned in like a state trooper whiffing for the scent of alcohol, and said in a Southern accent “Ya gotta get wiiiderrr tires there chief.â€
I awoke May 14th to attend to some errands. I ended up just blowing off all responsibilities to cruise around. I just felt like living for the moment that day. So glad I did.
Anyway, Blue was never meant to be a comfortable, or pleasant, car… for the passenger. Blue’s sole purpose was to be an excellent drivers car. Both hands on the wheel. Gear-up. Gear-down. Double clutch, ease it out. To drive Blue was to be committed to Blue. I had suc-ceeded in building a toy car, kinda like the car simulator games at the Chucky Cheese’s ar-cade section. I loved doing that as a kid. (Still do! Shhhhh…)
I wrapped up he days drive by visiting a friend on the other side of town.
The weather was perfect. Football weather (not too hot, not too cold.) Placed the top down and felt like a king.
By this time Blue was mechanically complete. The rest of his body panels were either at home or on their way.
Pulling out of the driveway the morning of the 15th, all I could think about was yesterday’s drive and deciding how many coats of clear the body shop would apply after a fresh paint job.
The memory that most sticks out about the last drive was when I parked Blue, out on the driveway to cool down. I stood back and admired the hard work and was grateful for all the people that helped complete my project. As was customer, I tapped his rear fender that night, same as I do after every drive, and said “Good night Blue!â€
HRC2