Small Car, Big Utility
Wellington does not forgive a timid car. The streets in Khandallah climb at angles that feel like a question, and the Mira answered it every morning without ever seeming to try.
The Mira is the sort of car Japan perfected in the 1990s: tiny, light, and engineered to do far more than its size suggests it should. Nothing about it was fast. It simply weighed so little that the hills stopped mattering, and it turned into corners with a keenness that made a trip to the shops feel like a decision rather than a chore.
It also worked for a living. Fold the rear seats down and it swallowed the whole pressure washing kit: the machine, the hoses, the bucket, the coiled extension lead. My landlady introduced me to neighbours who wanted driveways and patios cleaned, and the Mira became part of that routine, carrying the gear up those same hills and paying for itself in pocket money at a time when every bit counted.
It asked for almost nothing back. Fuel lasted an improbably long time. Maintenance was mostly a matter of remembering it existed.
There is a particular kind of engineering that gets its value from restraint rather than excess, and the Mira was full of it. Some cars you drive. The Mira you just pointed uphill and held on.
