Tested: 1991 Mazda Protegé LX Is a Screaming Deal

From the February 1991 issue of Car and Driver.

Mazda introduced the Protegé late in the summer of 1989, the same time the concept of “kansei engineering” and the tag line “It Just Feels Right” appeared in the company’s advertising. Rather than basking in its Miata and MPV successes, Mazda was moving and shaking, restructuring itself for more efficient decision-making. The goal was to recast its public image, from a maker of low-priced cars to a premium-quality specialty manufacturer. All of which has helped make the Protegé what it is: a slick and tidy four-door sedan that runs almost like crazy, welcomes four grown people, and looks shamelessly like a Mercedes 190. All for just a few dollars per month more than basic transportation.

We previously drove this engine-chassis combination when we tested the new Escort GT (C/D, August 1990). Ford and Mazda jointly developed the Escort/323 platform, and Mazda supplies the sixteen-valve 1.8 used in both the Escort GT and the LX version of the Protegé. We liked the Escort GT, finding it quick, lively, responsive, and modern. But we did question its styling, wondering if so thoroughly improved a car should look so much like its predecessor and whether buyers in this category still appreciate the boy-racer look of aero tack-ons.

No such misgivings apply to the Protegé. Its lines are clearly more elegant than the previous 323 sedan’s, and the finish is of a higher quality. A four-inch wheelbase extension (to 98.4) makes it markedly roomier than before and places it in the upper reaches of the class for sheer spaciousness. Obviously, Mazda is looking for an expensive-car feel to help distinguish its small sedan from the hordes of fine competitors crowding this market segment—a tactic that gives substance to Mazda’s stated intent to move its whole image a bit upmarket, thus staying in touch with the population’s baby-boom bubble as it moves into its peak-earning years. Viewed that way, the fact that the Protegé suggests a compact Mercedes (note the C-pillar area, including the back door, side glass, roofline, and fender contour) makes perfect sense. So does Mazda’s plea that the “323” designation—and its econohatch connotations—not be used in connection with the sedan.

Climb into the Protegé and the im­pression of richness persists: except for a lack of polished-wood highlights (and, once under way, the lightness of the con­trols), you could almost be sitting in some scaled-down Stuttgarter. The molded plastic is all very good molded plastic, and the instrument panel’s lines and shapes, again, recall a 190- or 300-series Mercedes, in the angular hood over round dials and the horizontal band filled with rectangular vent outlets.

Seeing the body contours from the driver’s seat also emphasizes an opportu­nity that the Ford guys apparently missed with the Escort: the Protegé’s lower cowl and beltline give it a much lighter, more contemporary feel. The Escort’s high windowsills seem unduly constrictive by comparison.

Because we’re talking about a modern Japanese car from a major manufacturer, it almost goes without saying that the controls and switches are properly placed and satisfying to operate. Mazda has also done the right thing with steer­ing-wheel spokes and control stalks, al­lowing the former to hide the latter. How many wheels have we gripped whose spokes have been hopelessly mislocated, just so we could see switches whose oper­ation we’re going to learn by feel almost immediately anyway?

We wish we could read the digital­-clock and radio-frequency readouts by feel, however, because broad daylight makes them all but invisible (the sole fail­ures of legibility in the Protegé’s other­wise excellent instrument layout). And we must also note that the seats, al­though generally well shaped and cor­rectly padded, have upper bolsters that create pressure points against some tor­sos. They are also covered with a cloth material that feels a little light-duty.

“Light-duty” is definitely not a term to describe Mazda’s zesty 125-hp twin-cam engine. Though a bit clattery on start up, the 1840-cc four pulls the Protegé into motion with smooth, seamless urge. From a standing start, the light clutch en­gages positively and the tach needle then winds right around to the big numeral “7” with no obvious peaks or valleys in the torque trace. Snap the low-effort gear lever through redline upshifts and 60 mph comes and goes in 8.8 seconds. Af­ter 16.5 seconds, the car is a quarter-mile down the road, traveling 85 mph. Even­tually, it will settle into a 120-mph top speed. Even if those numbers don’t ex­actly represent stop-press headlines, they are at least the equal of the best Civ­ic’s and clearly superior to any Corolla’s.

The engine’s flexibility stems in large part from its two-path intake tract, called “VISC,” for “Variable Inertia Charging System.” Intake air follows a long, curving route from the throttle to the valves, the length tuned for efficient cylinder fill­ing at moderate engine speeds. At 5500 rpm, a butterfly opens to produce a “shortcut” in the manifold, yielding the sort of high-volume, short-distance flow path that works effectively at higher rpm. And you are encouraged to make use of the entire operating range. The en­gine runs with that inviting, whip-me­-and-I’ll-rev-forever quality that makes engines of any power output delightful to work with. It gives out a nice, snarly ex­haust note when the revs are up and the pedal’s down, but it spins quite unobtru­sively the rest of the time.

Our sole complaint about the powertrain concerns cradle rock: soft mounting bushings may get credit for the lack of engine harshness, but they also al­low so much wrap-up that on-off throttle action in the lower gears creates annoy­ing lurching.

When it comes time to shut down the proceedings and get stopped, the Prote­gé’s brakes are up to the task. Vented discs, 10.1 inches in diameter, are fitted up front on all Protegés, and the LX (like the 4WD version) has 9.9-inch solid discs in back. (The SE uses 7.9-inch rear drums.) These brakes pull the 2550-pound car down from 70 mph in a long­ish 192 feet, but with exemplary feel and controllability. Even-shorter stopping distances may have been possible had our test car’s rear brakes not insisted on locking so readily.

Variable-assist power rack-and-pinion steering helps the Protegé feel excep­tionally light and quick on its feet. But surely the principal contributor to that sensation is the suspension. Convention­al struts manage front-wheel action, but in back is Mazda’s Twin-Trapezoidal Link design: one trailing and two lateral links control the geometry of each strut, with the help of bushings that flex in carefully planned fashion. Some of the lessons learned from the second-genera­tion RX-7 suspension, which popular­ized the term “elastokinematics,” have now been incorporated to create a small degree of passive rear-wheel steering.

Officially, the arrangement varies toe-in at the rear wheels in proportion to cor­nering loads. Near-zero toe-in at low lat­eral loadings is intended to enliven turn-­in response, and increasing toe-in as cornering force builds is supposed to aid stability by “steering” the heavily loaded outside rear wheel in the direction of the turn, keeping the car’s tail in line. Sounds sensible.

In practice, the system has a noticeable effect, but its dynamics are a good bit more subtle and complex than the theory implies. Although the Protegé under­steers safely when cornering loads build up gently, very high speeds or sudden corner entry creates a liveliness in the tail that may or may not strike you as precisely what you want. Flick the steering wheel quickly and the outside rear wheel feels like it’s toeing out, as in the countersteer phase of active four-wheel steering. The back end leans around (though without exactly breaking loose) to immediately rotate the car onto its new heading.

On playful mountain roads, we found this ersatz rear-steering quality useful. It neutralized a lot of understeer, and gave even this nose-heavy, front-drive car a surprisingly quick, lively, and neutral feel when tossed into bends with enthusiasm.

And yet several staffers had moments when the little tail-wag caught them by surprise. On long freeway ramps with expansion strips or other sudden bumps, we often felt the rear of the car feint to the outside when we weren’t expecting it. Conceivably, an emergency evasive ma­neuver could give a driver just a little more to handle than they should have to worry about at such a time.

The world today is awash in excellent little sedans, all of which offer—in vary­ing degrees and combinations—perfor­mance, quality, refinement, style, and value. But Mazda hopes buyers will think of the Protegé as an especially accommo­dating car that offers an unusually re­warding driving experience for $12,817.