On a cold Wednesday night, less than 12 hours after that back-and-forth, Mr. Wong, insulated by two layers of Scion clothing under his jacket, was joined by five friends — fellow Scion owners — at a supersized bowling alley in suburban New Jersey. They drank soda from big foam cups and bowled four games in rapid succession — league-style, Mr. Wong explained, which means they alternated between two lanes for a single game.  “We bowl fast,” he said as a matter of warning.  Also at the meeting — representing nearly all of the Scion brand’s quirkily named models — were Lou Ianni and Bill Yuen, both owners of Scion tC coupes; Mike Stauffer, who owns one of the cubelike xBs; and Mr. Stauffer’s fiancée, Kristine Frosten, who owns a tC and an xD hatchback. Mr. Stauffer and Ms. Frosten, who sat side by side most of the night under the bright glow of fluorescent lights, said they met three years ago at a Scion meet in Pennsylvania.  “There are a lot of Scion couples,” Ms. Frosten said.  Turnout was light at the lanes that evening. “Sometimes there are more people, but it’s a Wednesday night,” said Mr. Wong, whose journey to Scion diehard status was both sudden and rapid, and, one might suspect, not unique.  He bought his Scion three years ago to fill the need for a reliable work vehicle; his job requires driving to various corporate offices. He had never modified a car before, but he picked up a few of Scion’s factory accessories to personalize his tC.  A year and a half later, Mr. Wong had a turbocharger installed on the car’s 2.4-liter 4-cylinder engine. The engine now makes a bit more than 250 horsepower, Mr. Wong estimates, and rumbles like a muscle car.  “I got bit by the bug, I guess,” he said.  During a short drive around New Brunswick earlier that night, the car’s deep exhaust growl was punctuated by an occasional sharp wail. Each time Mr. Wong let off the gas, the engine sounded as if it were trying to sneeze through a straw.  “That’s the blow-off valve letting off the excess boost pressure,” he said, explaining the function of a vital part in the turbocharger system. “You don’t want to let it into the engine — otherwise it will blow up.”  He kept his eyes fixed on the road as he spoke, as if speaking to someone on the other side of the windshield. The glow from three small gauges stacked on the windshield pillar illuminated his face. The instruments were also add-ons, Mr. Wong said, helping him keep track of the turbocharger boost, engine oil temperature and the air-fuel mixture.  “You want to run rich,” Mr. Wong said, meaning a higher than normal ratio of gasoline to air. “If the air-fuel mixture is lean, you might blow up the engine.” Blowing up weighs on Mr. Wong’s mind, perhaps because he already wasted a transmission — a $2,600 setback, he said.  A new turbo would cost more; he paid around $6,000 for the turbo kit, he said, including accessories, installation and the labor of tuning the engine for peak performance on a dynamometer.  Money is an object, Mr. Wong explained, though that has not kept him from upgrading the suspension, brakes and wheels. He has also replaced the original stereo with a fancy audiovisual system that includes LCD displays in both sunvisors.  He had his dashboard rewired to change the gauge lighting from amber to red, white and blue. He modified the headlamps, the taillights and the center brake light, and installed an aftermarket shift knob and pedals. Very little has been left untouched, and yet his wish list is long.  He wants a hood made of ultralight carbon fiber with a vent to release heat, and a methanol injection system that will let him run more turbo boost and make more power. “I want to refine the car,” he said. “Make it faster.”
From its inception in 2003, Scion, a division of Toyota, has made rampant use of grassroots marketing to recruit enthusiastic owners.