Around 7,000 speed cameras are watching over us here in the UK. That’s approximately 900 more than the entire United States. Just let that sink in for a second - a country with a mere 262,000 miles of road has more than a country with 4,100,000.

In the coming years that number is only going to increase. Profits from tactically placed cameras are hard to ignore for cash-strapped councils and quite often, it’s irrelevant whether or not they actually reduce accidents. Speed cameras are just another tug of the ever-tightening noose around the neck of people who drive for enjoyment. We’re vilified by the health and safety conscious for speeding, public enemy number one for the environmentalists and an easy target for exploitation by governments looking for extra income.

Where does this leave the petrol head? In a world where you can buy a hot hatchback with over 400 bhp, you start to think, what’s the point? How can one still enjoy the beauty of the British countryside and a favourite back road if Big Brother is standing over you like a vulture? Should you dare depress the throttle for any longer than six seconds, you’ll have points on your licence and a fine.

The answer lies in finding a car with solid fundamentals. A car that feels alive at double-digit speeds, not triple figures. One that makes use of the elements, with tight gearing and a sweet, rev-happy naturally aspirated engine. Get the basics right and waking up early to catch the sunrise along your favourite B road doesn’t have to be a thing of the past.

It’s why we’ve come to the cat and fiddle pass in the Peak District, a once famous driving road now lined with the yellow pylons of doom, armed with an early Mazda MX-5 to challenge the naysayers proclaiming the end is nigh. We're looking to strip away the excess and lean on the fundamentals of the physical act of driving.

When I talk about fundamentals, I’ll give you this analogy. In boxing, the sweet science, you’re first taught footwork. The ability to close in on an opponent and get yourself out of trouble when needed is a skill you must master before you’ve even thrown a punch.

Only when you’ve conquered keeping your balance do you move on to throwing your first and most important punch, the jab. The jab serves as a rangefinder, a stinging snapshot or a distraction. It’s your closest weapon to the fighter standing in front of you. Without learning these basic fundamentals, your style will be flawed.

A natural ability of power, speed or reflexes can mask a lack of basic skills to a degree but you’ll be found out eventually. What use is power if you can’t land a shot? What use is speed if your opponent is timing you coming in? And what use are those reflexes if you’re off balance?

The same fundamental rules govern building a sports car. Mazda took the blueprint of the Lotus Elan and applied the Japanese philosophy of Jinba Ittai, “reflecting the feeling that the sense of oneness between a rider and his beloved horse is the ultimate bond.”

It translates to the universal sports car language of an engine at the front, driven wheels at the rear for balance, a raspy twin-cam engine for power and fully independent suspension at each corner for handling. Not only did they use the Elan recipe, but they also made it reliable.

This made the MX-5 a formidable rival for any manufacturer looking to move in and take a slice of its profits. Many came to the fight already at a disadvantage using an adapted platform from a mundane hatchback and scraps from the manufacturer's parts bin.

Today, the MX-5 is part of the motoring landscape, but wind the clock back to 1989 and the roadster market was dead on its knees. In Japan, your only option was the Alfa Romeo Series 3 Spider, carrying typical reliability shortcomings and a platform that could trace its roots back three decades, complete with a live rear axle.

It was a massacre - the Mazda breathed new life into the division and suddenly manufacturers were pulling their heads out of the sand. By 1995 challengers were lining up for their shot at the title, but all entered the ring with one hand tied behind their back. Fiat returned with the pretty Barchetta, but it was now front-wheel drive, as was the next-generation Alfa Spider. Just like that the Italians - long the custodian of the small roadster - effectively threw in the towel.