Living a childhood dream in the land of the rising sun. Kampai!
I’m a child of the 90s. The very start of the 90’s actually. When I was a hopeless young 4-year-old, my dad returned from a business trip with a copy of the then-new racing game, ‘Road & Track Presents: The Need for Speed.’ It was the very first NFS game in a series that (unfortunately to some) still endures today – minus the Road & Track affiliation. But it was also probably the start of my lust for vehicles I’ll never be able to afford.
Back then my favourite car was the Viper. But my dad loved the NSX. I never understood why at the time. Viper was a much cooler sounding name than NSX. I didn’t know what a mid-engine setup was. I just liked the one that sounded like a snake. But as my slow maturity kicked in, so too did the understanding of why the NSX was so friggin cool. I knew I’d never own one. But I was determined to at least drive it one day. And admittedly, part of me wanted to make him a little proud and a little jealous.
Cat-spotting in Hiroshima
Fast forward two decades and change, and my chance presented itself. I found myself in Japan with three sets of keys before me. One, for the NSX. The other two – for another Japanese icon lovingly known as Godzilla; the Skyline GT-R. I opted for two flavours – the classic ‘Hakosuka’ style Skyline of the 1970s and the now-legendary R34 GT-R. Let’s start old school.
1971 Nissan Skyline ‘Hakosuka’ GT-R (Replica)
This thing just looks so cool. Boxy, muscular and curvy in all the right places. This example is (admittedly) a replica based on a non-GT-R model. That’s because a real Hako GT-R is a five figure car these days. But some modern touches, like uprated brakes, wider wheels, modern suspension, etc. have given this standard Skyline a punch of GT-R flavour.
There’s no beating around the bushings – this is an old car. It looks old. It feels old. It even smells old. Fender mounted mirrors look slick, but are far less convenient than those bolted to the door. But could you imagine this car without them? Nah. I wouldn’t want to. The interior, chock full of analog toggle switches and gauges, features riveted vinyl seats, a wood paneled centre console and a lovely thin-rimmed steering wheel.
Mashing the gas pedal yields a throaty, raspy inline-6 gargle and a slight gasoline smell. Gotta love carburetors. There’s a slight dragging sound with its first lurch forward. Like an old machine shaking off some rust as it pulls ahead. Probably just a slightly sticking handbrake. The steering is heavy and the brakes are barely responsive – and that’s okay. You can’t expect this to feel like a modern car, nor should it. You don’t have to floor it to properly enjoy this car. It’s all about the experience – and what better place to be transported back to an era I had no part of than the narrow, twisting mountain roads of Japan’s Hakone region. The car is nearly half a century old by this point. But in my mind, it’ll be timelessly cool.
1991 Honda NSX NA1
I’m not a tall person. But it staggered me to see how compact the original NSX is. I thought it looked great in photos. It’s even better in real life. I’m not sure a bad angle of this car exists. I won’t try to say it still looks modern. But it has certainly aged well compared to some other 90’s supercars. Plus, it’s got popup headlights. I love that in virtually every application it’s ever been used in. Especially my old BMW 8-series. But I digress.
Inside, the NSX seems pretty typical of a 90’s supercar. That is to say, a blend of metal, plastic and leather. It’s not exactly Bentley level but on the NSX, it works. Besides, the less there is, the lighter the car, meaning the faster it’ll be. With a turn of the key, the mid-engined V6 churns to life.
The car is small, but it’s also wider than expected. Then again, what supercar isn’t? Despite being nearly three decades old, Honda’s engineering still feels incredibly tight. I’ve driven modern cars that didn’t feel as refined as this still does. And god knows what kind of abuses this NSX has been through at the hands of ignorant tourists like me. It wasn’t the most powerful supercar back in its day but it was probably the most livable. It was reliable, fairly fuel efficient and smartly designed. It’s not surprising to find second hand NSX’s with a lot of kilometres on the clock. They can handle it. And probably so much more. I fell in love with the NSX. It was everything my dad believed it to be and I only wish I fell in love with it sooner.
2000 Nissan Skyline GT-R R34
Name a more iconic Japanese performance car. Okay, there’s the Supra, NSX, RX-7, Lexus LFA, Toyota 2000-GT, Nissan Silvia, Mitsubishi Lancer Evo, Subaru WRX STI…Okay, bad point. But you can’t deny how prolific this car is in North America, largely thanks to media like the Fast and Furious franchise and Gran Turismo. I personally never thought the R34 was a particularly attractive car. The 4-door variant looks like a pretty typical boxy family sedan. But the engineering behind it was and still is a marvel. Tuners have pushed its RB engine to its factory limits, and then even further with some aftermarket help. This example was completely stock. And I’m very okay with that. I've never been one for fart cans.
With heavily bolstered seats, a contoured shift knob and a centre console information screen that measured figures like corner G’s, the GT-R is a serious performance car. The inside was pretty Spartan – as to be expected.
Courtesy: Nissan (I was too caught up in the moment to take an interior shot)
There’s really nothing bad to say about the way the GT-R drives. This thing is right at home on the road or the track. The handling is sublime and the whine and chatter of the turbo and wastegate is pretty great to hear. But (this will not apply to most drivers) because I had just come back from driving the NSX, I was still feeling the dopamine high of my dream, which softened the experience of being in the GT-R. This is not a knock against the R34. Rather, it’s a testament to just how good the NSX was and still is.
Despite the numerous accounts of being let down by dream cars like the Lamborghini Countach, I would encourage you to find and drive your dream cars. Temper your expectations and try to go back to that mental state you were in when you decided that whatever car you fantasized about was your dream. Sit in it, touch it, smell it, drive it and most of all – enjoy it. Dreams don’t always come true. Don’t let a cliché stop you from achieving one of yours.
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