Erik Eckel

There are a few compelling algorithm-fueled memes appearing frequently within my social media streams. This is but one of the reasons I suspect scrolling social media often makes us uncomfortable; the algorithms that are tracking us, and watching everything we do and where we go, can be uncannily accurate with the suggested content they surface.

If you know me, you know I’ve long enjoyed driving spirited automobiles. I’ve had the pleasure of piloting a mid-‘80s Honda CRX as well as a sixth-generation Porsche 911 Carrera and seventh-generation Porsche 911 in GT3 trim. I’ve also owned a spirited Honda Prelude Si, a five-liter, four-speed Ford Mustang and a Chevrolet Getrag-licensed five-speed, 3.1-liter Beretta GT. They were all enjoyable and boasted unique characteristics, each possessing its own personality.

But then, of course, you have kids. You begin taking long trips to the beach. There’s a natural tendency to gravitate toward minivans and SUVs that’s difficult to resist. Sometimes you simply lose connection to car culture.

Occasionally, though, you rediscover that passion. That was my experience this past spring. Thanks in part to guidance from my son, I began learning about Toyota’s iconic AE86 coupe. The model helped drive the JDM—Japanese Domestic Market—car craze and culture that the Initial D manga series boosted to now-legendary heights.

Toyota’s 2026 GR86 sports car—named in honor of that original rear-wheel drive, manual-equipped, 1.6-liter, twin-cam sports coupe weighing only 2,000 pounds—possesses its own mystique. Sporting a potent 2.4-liter motor, the newer model is a blast to drive whether taking to the track or picking up groceries.

Don’t take my word for it. Do your own research, but may I suggest starting by reading reviews or asking anyone who’s driven one.

Certainly, I can attest.

The GR86, while not the quickest car—four-cylinder factory models are not available with turbos or superchargers—is lightweight, responsive and nimble. Driving the machine is bliss, sublime, even. It’s the kind of experience one must enjoy firsthand to appreciate, but there’s no mistaking it: this car has a soul.

So it should come as no surprise that two of the algorithm-fed posts I’m increasingly receiving reinforce this emotion. They confirm the sense this car is special.

The first meme begins as a friendly reminder. A man’s voiceover says as much. He’s even breathless, as if he’s running, when he intones “It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone else. If it makes you happy, that’s all that matters. None of us our getting out of here alive, so you might as well do what you want. Have a good day.”

Not a difficult message, nor is it a deep message. The meme is a simple statement that encourages consumers to continue buying. It’s easy to understand how this message propagates. We all want stuff. Budgeting is no fun. Just buy the car!, other posts recommend.

I get it. Fear of missing out (FOMO). You only live once (YOLO). It’s all good.

Buy the car, they say.

Because, as the second social media message I keep seeing in my feeds states “And then one day a car comes into your life, a random car that becomes a part of you, and while you’ve known it for such a short time, it feels like you’ve loved it for a lifetime. And it will get it right where everyone else got it wrong. You won’t be the only one giving your all. Every drive will remind you why you picked it. You’ll have your best friend and favorite escape all wrapped into one car.”

That’s nearly true. It’s not really my best friend. That title is reserved for the woman who’s put up with me, my shenanigans and my most-assuredly annoying quirks for almost forty years.

But, it’s close.

So, buy the car, I say.