Long term ownership of a 2014 Scion FR-S

Long-Term Ownership: The 2014 Scion FR-S

An introduction to my automotive journey.

This is my first foray into automotive journalism, and I can't think of a better place to start than with the one car I'll never sell. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

I remember the day—August 22, 2014. I was handed the keys to my first brand-new car: a 2014 Scion FR-S in Asphalt Grey. Manual, of course. I had owned plenty of used cars before, but this was different. This was mine from mile zero. For a lifelong car kid—someone potty-trained with Hot Wheels—this was a personal milestone. I’d been telling my coworkers I was going to buy one since the day the concept was unveiled. I kept my word. As of writing this, I’ve owned it for just over 11 years.

It’s been... a journey.

The Spark

I can trace the obsession back to high school. I was a co-op student at an auto body shop, and for a school event, I had to bring a mentor from the trade. The guy who showed up brought a first-generation Mazda RX-7 with a Coyote V8 swap and chameleon paint. Just looking at it, I can still hear the Scorpions playing Rock You Like a Hurricane in the background.

He took me out for a drive.

It was reckless. Loud. Violent in the best way possible. When he floored it, the thrust in my chest felt like being tackled by a sofa. That feeling—that surge—is something I’ve chased ever since. Maybe I’m just a bit of a sadist.

The Reality Check

In comparison, if we’re talking about that "thrust in the chest" feeling... the FR-S has none of it. I have hammered the gas on many occasions only to be passed by a minivan packed with eighteen kids and a week's worth of groceries. The FR-S is no torque monster, and the FA20 engine has the long-term reliability of airport Wi-Fi.

My troubles started early. First, a crunchy fourth gear led to a dealership-replaced transmission under warranty. Then, the engine block developed an oil leak. Again, repaired under warranty. For a while, everything settled. The car felt sorted.

Until it didn’t.

The engine finally gave up in the most convenient way possible. It died on a hill just down the road from my house, allowing me to coast gracefully into my driveway and roll right into my parking spot. I tried starting it one last time—hoping the Big Guy upstairs was just pulling a prank—and it eventually turned over. It introduced me to a new sound: rod knock, harmonizing beautifully with the signature Subaru boxer rumble.

The Rebuild

If you're going to rebuild, you might as well do it properly. I went all in: forged rods, forged pistons, ARP head studs, stronger crank bearings, a baffled oil pan, and an upgraded pickup. I paired the fresh heart with 17x9 Enkei RPF1s wrapped in Hankook RS4s—one of the best dual-purpose tires I’ve ever run—plus coilovers and a few cosmetic touches.

The new engine leaked oil almost as aggressively as my bank account leaked money during the build process. I don't blame Subaru or Toyota for that; that was simply the cost of chasing something more than factory reliability.

The "Why"

Do I have regrets? Not once. This car comes alive on a twisty country road. It’s what I call a “feeler” car. You don’t just drive it; you interact with it. The steering talks. The chassis communicates. You feel involved.

When the 86/BRZ/FR-S community was booming, this car connected me with my closest friends. Late-night drives, parking lot meets, early morning canyon runs—the memories matter as much as the machine.

Right now, it sits in my garage waiting for me to drop the oil pan and diagnose a fresh oil pressure issue. My suspicion? A little too much RTV silicone from my last "sealing attempt" likely made its way where it shouldn't have.

The Future

For years, I dreamed of a V8 swap. Not a "Coyote RX-7" chaos build, but something balanced. I used to idolize the LS3 route, but as I get older, I’m leaning toward the 3UZ-FE. It’s only about 60 pounds heavier than the stock four-cylinder, but with usable power and reliable torque. The goal isn’t to overpower the car; it’s to enhance it without killing the personality that makes this chassis special.

Some cars are investments (rarely). Some are stepping stones. My 2014 Scion FR-S? This one is a lifer. It represents who I was at 27. It represents growth, mistakes, and the late nights spent tinkering with friends.

It is far from the fastest car I’ve driven. It certainly hasn’t been the most reliable. And considering the receipts, it hasn’t been the cheapest. But it’s mine. And that’s enough.