My father loved cars. He named our dog for a Porsche racing director. I started going along to kick tires as a six-year-old girl. Turns out, car addiction is contagious. Fast forward to Now.
Many reviewers depict the Mirage as a high-decibel wanderer that shudders at stop signs and has zero get-up-and-go. "An act of desperation" Consumer Reports calls it. Yet Mitsubishi had sold 500,000 before the Mirage came to the States. Strange that half a million owners could be so terribly, terribly wrong. Not to mention the cheerful accounts of owners in the United States. How could they too be so gullible?
I called the nearest (distant) Mitsubishi dealer, took a test drive, pondered. Cost, size, miles per gallon, and design persuaded me. En route home, the Mirage got 51 m.p.g. It's fine on the freeway. It's fine in town. What about that dreadful noise, shakiness, and erratic steering? Where are they? What about its "cheap" interior? I'm accustomed to kids and dogs: plastic is fine, thank you. Yes, you have to pay attention while driving. Don't you always have to pay attention while driving?
The Mirage does much more than usual for much less than usual. (I imagine the early Mini and VW bug were similarly basic and ingenious.) It's backed by a strong warranty. It's fun to drive. It's new, and I don't know how it will hold up. It gives every sign of being good, unpretentious, and maybe even classic.