A bugeye used to be solely associated with a vintage British roadster, popular with car fanatics and weekend racers alike. Nowadays, with the shifting of generations, bugeye means something wholly different, but equally revered by car enthusiasts: a turbocharged Japanese sedan that set off a renaissance of sorts for hot-rodded imports. The Subaru WRX these days is a fairly heavy car, loaded down with safety features and electronic nannies; the original WRX, such as this donated example shown here on eBay,is the version that enthusiasts still seek out to build and modify to their heart’s content.

This is a 2002 model, and its headlight design tells you everything you need to know about why it’s called a bugeye. The early WRXs were cheap and cheerful machines, combining a turbocharged flat-4 powerplant with sticky all-wheel drive, truly delivering a rally car for the masses. These engines were wildly tune-able and the suspension could be upgraded as well, helping the cheerful sedan put all that newfound power down. From weekend racers to rally-crossers to 1/4 mile addicts, the little WRX could do it all, and it was simple enough that if you broke it, most backyard mechanics could put it back together.

Still, out of the box, the WRX was already quite compelling. The 2.0-liter turbocharged, horizontally-opposed four-cylinder engine pumped out a very respectable 227 horsepower and 217 lb-ft of torque, and if you decided to only do one modification, you’d install an exhaust – and let those unequal length headers roar. The sound of an old-school Subaru with UEL headers and a free-flowing exhaust is one of my favorite car noises of all time, and I’d buy one of these just to hear it whenever I felt like it. You also got very nicely bolstered sport seats and a genuine Momo steering wheel. Seeing all these components present here tells me this WRX was likely never modified and driven largely as someone’s commuter.

The WRX is at a donation center because, like most modern drop-offs, it has issues. The seller notes the car is leaking coolant which is usually a tell-tale sign on Subarus that the headgaskets need replacing. My 2003 Legacy needed this job done twice in my years with it, which represented about 150,000 miles. Still, once you resign yourself to the fact that they all need it eventually, this is a seriously fun car with some upside potential considering how rarely a bone-stock example shows up for sale. This WRX needs some love, but it’s going cheap enough that you can justify it.