Hi, I’m Steve DaSilva. You might remember me from such blogs as or . Today, on this most memorial of days, I come to you with my TRD snapback in my hand and a single humble request: Please, talk me out of buying .

With any luck, . It needs a new owner, one who can truly use it for its trackday purpose, and who is ideally 5'10" or shorter. But that leaves me with another problem: I need a new track car.

I’ve been searching for Integra GSRs and RSX Type Ses (Types S?), but they seem impossible to find — let alone in good condition. Civic Sis are easier to find, but usually have mileage in the seven-to-eight digit range. Rather than refreshing the same five Honda listings, over and over, I could just buy this: A nearly 30-year-old imported kei car that was never sold in the United States. I see no problems here.

Sure, parts are probably impossible to come by. And, yes, it makes half the horsepower of my already-not-fast Miata. No, it doesn’t have a track-prepped interior or any kind of racing seat. Have I ever driven RHD? Not once. Can I insure it? Almost certainly not. But, all those minor quibbles pale in comparison to one major boon: He’s just a little guy.

Look at this car. Look at its face. It’s a friend, a trustworthy fellow, a guy who’s loyal to the end of his days. Yet, below those bright eyes and that two-tone paint job, it has a turbocharged three-cylinder engine hauling its mere 1,400-pound curb weight around.

I know it’s a bad idea. You know it’s a bad idea. My friend who sent me the listing knows it’s a bad idea. And yet I can’t close the tab. I can’t say no to the idea of making this beautiful little kei car my son. Maybe you can convince me.