Car of the Week Reviews—Subaru Impreza Coupe WRX Type R STi Version VI '99

Life's hard when you're a GC Impreza. After all, when asked to picture a first generation performance Impreza, every enthusiast will no doubt conjure up dreamy images of the unicorn of all Imprezas, the 22B, limited to just 400 built and sold exclusively in Japan. Really then, the only things that the... uh... let me make sure I get this exactly right here—the Impreza Coupe WRX Type R STi Version VI '99—has over the 22B is a much more complicated name, comes in colours other than blue, was sold and actually survived in export markets, and its potential to have two more doors and a lot more storage space.

Subaru Impreza RB5 WR Sport '99 by Veur (Veurrulve) livery link (GT7)

Subaru Impreza RB5 Turbo '99 by Veur (Veurrulve) livery link (GT7)

In yet another dazzling display of PDLogic™, the second GC Impreza in this game is also a coupé, slinking it further into the shadow of its 22B brother. Really, sometimes I'm made to think that, instead of listening to what the fans want, or what would make the most sense to have in a game, PD includes cars solely out of convenience. "Oh, what is this, a factory fresh, well preserved Imp VI is being offered to us by Subaru themselves? Screw the Hawkeye, GET THIS IN!!!" I mean, if you've any other theories as to why we have 2 coupé GC8s in this game, no sedans, no wagons, no base Imprezas, no base WRXes, no GDs, no GEs, or any of the very many special editions of the cars, I'd love to hear it.

So, what does this week's Car of the Week have to offer that the 22B can't? Why, even more understeer, of course!

With soggy 1.7Hz springs propped up on miserable Comfort Soft tyres by default, there is nothing at all that screams "sporty" when the Imp VI is driven hard on a racetrack; only screams of the tyres and the frustrated driver going, "TURN GODDAMNIT WHY WON'T YOU?!" The patented Symmetrical All Wheel Drive system of Subaru's may boast a low cg, but that symmetry unfortunately means that the entirety of its flat four engine is overhung outside its wheelbase, resulting in a car that is as lopsided on the scales as a RR 911, with an eye popping, brain melting 62/38 F/R weight distribution. It should come as no surprise then, that an Imp VI asks of its driver to tiptoe cautiously into a corner as much as an air–cooled 911, only instead of death by oversteer, it punishes ham–fisted maneuvers with understeer in equal measure. Trail brake into a corner, and the car will lean immensely with the tiniest of steering angles, instantly overwhelming the outside tyres into smoking and screaming away any momentum and dignity you might have attempted to bring into said corner.

The longitudinally mounted 1,994cc EJ20 Boxer may rev to the cosmos at a Rotary–shaming 8,200rpm, but unfortunately, there isn't much of a reason to bring it past 7, with peak power of exactly 276HP (205kW) happening at 6,5. As with any tiny, rev happy engine, it really doesn't have any torque with which to hold a slide despite its stiletto–thin 205mm tyres, even with the most rearward torque split the OE centre differential can manage: a rather safe still 35:65. The gear ratios are similarly unintuitive, with the first four gears so short that you can't even hit Japan's Jishu–Kisei speed limiter set at 180km/h (112mph) in fourth, requiring the moonshot overdrive 5th for that, causing the car to completely fall over itself and die past said speed.

After just two races with the Imp, I had completely given up on it and began looking for alternatives. A 1999 Evo VI of some sort would be the most obvious candidate, but that's locked behind GT7, and so the next closest thing I had in GTS was a '96 Evo IV. The Evo IV, despite being 90 kilos (198lbs) heavier and packing 3 less horses, felt so much more nimble and lairy than the Imp with its breakthrough AYC system, though I couldn't translate any of it into tangible results at Tsukuba. In my frustration, I let something slip from my lips that I probably shouldn't have on race day: "Can I just destroy you all in my RX-7?"

"Can you?", was Vic's coy answer, and so I set about crippling the output of my 2002 Spirit R down to its advertised power of 276HP while leaving everything else as–is, including its mass. As I lined up among the field of Imprezas, I have to admit I felt more than a tinge of nervousness and doubt. The "grass is always greener on the other side syndrome", if there hasn't already been a clinical term coined for it. After all, at an unbelievably scant 1,260kg (2,778lbs), not only is the four seater AWD car somehow 10kg (22lbs) lighter than my mere 2 seater RWD car, but the sedan turned coupé also has a smaller and more nimble body than my bona fide sports car!

I uh... wound up utterly destroying the Imprezas in spite of all the deficits on paper. The FD is a car that I had complained was much too soft for my liking, but even that felt like a Gr.4 racing car after having jumped from the rally bred machines. It braked better, it cornered better, and past 180km/h, it went better than the Imprezas. The only advantage the Imps might have had was on corner exits, and even then, not by much from what I can tell glancing in my mirrors. I didn't win the race because nerves got the better of me, but I think I proved my point: the Impreza simply isn't set up for track use. I was even going to bring an R34 GT-R for an All Nippon AWD shootout, but that I think would be well overkill for the poor Subaru.

SUBARU IMPREZA P1 by Psygnorishio52 livery link (GTS)

I had a really torrid time with the Impreza this week, and I would have written it off entirely had we not ran it on Bathurst, my favourite track in the world. There, the Impreza clung onto the racing lines like shrink wrap, displayed rock solid stability, and trivialised any of the many imperfections the public mountain roads presented. On a nefariously narrow and torturously twisty roads, the Impreza showed great "point and shoot" capabilities, biting into apexes with great initial turn–in before its understeer could rear its head, and its short gearing means it has torque and engine braking for any situation the varied mountain throws at it. And it's there that I really found where the Impreza felt most at home.

"Drift King" Tsuchiya Keiichi said it best in his modern impression of a GC8 Impreza: Subaru designs from the time all feel cheap, like they're made by country bumpkins. But, following that, he also comments on how it's such a nostalgic feeling for him to step into the car, and how it has a distinct "Subaru flavour" to it. That is something that I feel is not only distinctly absent in modern cars as Japanese manufacturers set their sights more and more on the global market, but also indicative of where and how an Imp VI shines: not on a wide, neatly paved track, but on a narrow, countryside road, where its unshakable AWD stability, compliant and absorbent suspension, and tiny Class 5 body is exactly what one would need to conquer country roads no matter rain, shine, snow, or anything in between. The fact that it can seat four in a body that's lighter and smaller than an FD RX-7's is something that still boggles my mind every time I see it. Even in the context of a video game, I can very clearly see why so many in real life have sworn by the Imprezas, and how it has arguably given Subaru its identity of rock solid, stable, and dependable workhorses worldwide. It somehow feels really personal simply to look at, akin to seeing pictures of a childhood friend from decades past.

To drive though? Oof, these early examples of AWD performance cars are rough! They serve as a stark reminder of a time when car manufacturers struggled to get an AWD car to simply turn like a car. Nowadays, we have AWD SUVs that can corner on par with supercars. The Imp VI then, is not only a veritable time capsule, but I think is also the closest thing we will ever get in a modern Gran Turismo game to the driving experience of an offroad SUV. It's an intriguing to experience because of that, but ooh boy is it not for me. I'd rather shorten my lifespan with a proper RWD sports car, or just buy an R34 if I have to. Hell, there's no reason at all for me to not just take a 22B over the VI.

(muffled screaming in the distance: "WHAT DO YOU MEEEEAN THE 22B COSTS 180K in GT7?!")

Car of the Week Reviews—Ford Mustang Gr.3 Road Car

BIG NA V8 up front sending power to the rear through a manual 6 speed stick shift. If you've driven your share of Pony Cars, that basic recipe might sound as mandated and given as the Second Amendment. But what if we were to take an unassuming, off the shelf 2015 Mustang GT and stretch it out to pickup truck levels of width, give it side exit exhausts strategically placed to cook your thighs on every time you attempt to cross over the puffed out skirts, and give it springs stiffer than those on a 991 GT3... RS?

With springs set to 2.8Hz front and rear, not much separates the Mustang Gr.3 Road Car from the full blown race variant it homologates if you were to drive it down a Japanese Expressway... assuming you manage to squeeze through the vicegrip that are the toll gates unscathed. The engine that has been massaged into race spec for the Gr.3 car is dumped almost as–is into a road car; the power curves between the two cars being pixel for pixel identical to each other, with the only difference being 47 less HP at 502HP (374kW) in the "road" car. That means that the power curves become as sharp as the revised bonnet on the car, with just as many gaping holes in it as well. The low end torque ideal for highway passing that I had come to associate with a good Muscle Car has been entirely forsaken to focus all the ponies up top near its redline, uncorked in race trim to cut out at 8,000rpm. It's almost like driving a 5 Litre Rotary!

All this focus on track performance then, one should jolly well hope that it's all worth it when the Mustang can finally roam free on a racetrack.

Help...

Of course it isn't. Is this the first time you've read my reviews? It's called setting up expectations specifically just so you can betray them. Like the Mustang Gr.3 Road Car.

It starts out promising enough. The car's powertrain and suspension are both dizzyingly direct, responding the instant you twitch an extremity in your limbs. The racing brakes that the car comes standard with have a ferocious bite to them, chopping the lightened car down to speed quickly in conjunction to the added drag the body brings. As a result of all this, the Mustang can often feel some 200 kilos (441 pounds) lighter than its kerb mass of 1,500kg (3,307lbs), especially if you were to upgrade from the default Sport Hard tyres the car comes default with; the stiff suspension I daresay is set up to beg for racing slicks rather than suffer through street rubber. Remember, this thing has downforce and spring stiffness that exceed those of a hardcore 911, and so might be more prudent to think of this thing more like a FR track spec Porsche than anything a Mustang can reasonably feel like.

Turn in for a corner though, and you get a nostalgic combination of over and understeer that earlier Porsches are prone to as well, but for the opposite reason—The first thing I noticed was that the car is rather front heavy under trail braking, and booting up GT7 puts a figure to my misery, at 54:46 F:R. Not that I need much numbers to tell you the car has a bit of a challenging time diving for and nailing deeper apexes, such as the last corner of DT Seaside as an example, requiring drivers to set it up early for the corner rather than adjusting and adapting on the fly. On corner exits, the what feels like an anvil laden front end is prone to understeer on power, and the rear end, oversteer.

With the springs set to be stiffer than its stiffie for crowds, the Mustang G3RC fumbles and bumbles around even the microscopic shifts in elevation on a fictional, mirror–smooth circuit mid corner, almost as though this is the only trim of the sixth generation of Mustang to still come equipped with a solid rear axle, aiming for the crowds in the grandstands more than the road you point it at. The racecar stiff springs also unfortunately mean that the G3RC is also imbued with racecar like nervousness and snappiness without racecar levels of grip, requiring very quick and numerous corrections in a desperate fishtailing display before the car will consider your proposal of straightening out once it steps out on you. Compounded with the fact that it has a spikey power curve administered through GTS' notorious non–linear throttle, and the rear end stepping out on its driver is simply an inevitability when the car is pushed for a quick lap. I have never once felt comfortable being near the car's limits during race day as a result, much less have any semblance of fun while doing it. It's a stressful chore at best.

If you for some horse manure reason feel a compulsion to race fender to fender with your friends in a Mustang G3RC in spite of its snappy handling, then perhaps do it at a wide racetrack rather than on the public roads, counter–intuitively to what its name would suggest, because on the two lane wide Toukyo Central Loop, there is simply no passing possible with these widened cars, even if you have a pronounced pace advantage to the car in front of you. Case in point, Vic closed in a SECOND per lap on me around the mock C1 loop to sniff my diffuser with two laps to go, and despite me making little to no attempt to defend or block the driver I know to be faster than me due to my own discomfort behind the wheel, he couldn't get the pass done before the chequered flag was waved.

Help...

It's rubbish for the public roads. It's rubbish for racing. It's even rubbish for time attacks; the aforementioned 991 GT3 RS is some fifteen seconds quicker around the Nordschleife than the Mustang G3RC in Alex's testing. At 300k Credits in GT7 or 5k Mileage Points in GTS, it even costs markedly more than said 911, meaning that the usual saving grace of muscle cars, the "bang for the buck" argument, doesn't even apply to the Mustang G3RC. I've racked my head all week to come up with something nice to say about the car so as not to come across as a vengeful asshole, but I genuinely can't think of anything nice to say about the car.

Help...

All this focus on track performance then, one should jolly well hope that it's all worth it when the Mustang can finally roam free on a racetrack.

Help...

Of course it isn't. Is this the first time you've read my reviews? It's called setting up expectations specifically just so you can betray them. Like the Mustang Gr.3 Road Car.

It starts out promising enough. The car's powertrain and suspension are both dizzyingly direct, responding the instant you twitch an extremity in your limbs. The racing brakes that the car comes standard with have a ferocious bite to them, chopping the lightened car down to speed quickly in conjunction to the added drag the body brings. As a result of all this, the Mustang can often feel some 200 kilos (441 pounds) lighter than its kerb mass of 1,500kg (3,307lbs), especially if you were to upgrade from the default Sport Hard tyres the car comes default with; the stiff suspension I daresay is set up to beg for racing slicks rather than suffer through street rubber. Remember, this thing has downforce and spring stiffness that exceed those of a hardcore 911, and so might be more prudent to think of this thing more like a FR track spec Porsche than anything a Mustang can reasonably feel like.

Turn in for a corner though, and you get a nostalgic combination of over and understeer that earlier Porsches are prone to as well, but for the opposite reason—The first thing I noticed was that the car is rather front heavy under trail braking, and booting up GT7 puts a figure to my misery, at 54:46 F:R. Not that I need much numbers to tell you the car has a bit of a challenging time diving for and nailing deeper apexes, such as the last corner of DT Seaside as an example, requiring drivers to set it up early for the corner rather than adjusting and adapting on the fly. On corner exits, the what feels like an anvil laden front end is prone to understeer on power, and the rear end, oversteer.

With the springs set to be stiffer than its stiffie for crowds, the Mustang G3RC fumbles and bumbles around even the microscopic shifts in elevation on a fictional, mirror–smooth circuit mid corner, almost as though this is the only trim of the sixth generation of Mustang to still come equipped with a solid rear axle, aiming for the crowds in the grandstands more than the road you point it at. The racecar stiff springs also unfortunately means that the G3RC is also imbued with racecar like nervousness and snappiness without racecar levels of grip, requiring very quick and numerous corrections in a desperate fishtailing display before the car will consider your proposal of straightening out once it steps out on you. Compounded with the fact that it has a spikey power curve administered through GTS' notorious non–linear throttle, and the rear end stepping out on its driver is simply an inevitability when the car is pushed for a quick lap. I have never once felt comfortable being near the car's limits during race day as a result, much less have any semblance of fun while doing it. It's a stressful chore at best.

If you for some horse manure reason feel a compulsion to race fender to fender with your friends in a Mustang G3RC in spite of its snappy handling, then perhaps do it at a wide racetrack rather than on the public roads, counter–intuitively to what its name would suggest, because on the two lane wide Toukyo Central Loop, there is simply no passing possible with these widened cars, even if you have a pronounced pace advantage to the car in front of you. Case in point, Vic closed in a SECOND per lap on me around the mock C1 loop to sniff my diffuser with two laps to go, and despite me making little to no attempt to defend or block the driver I know to be faster than me due to my own discomfort behind the wheel, he couldn't get the pass done before the chequered flag was waved.

Help...

It's rubbish for the public roads. It's rubbish for racing. It's even rubbish for time attacks; the aforementioned 991 GT3 RS is some fifteen seconds quicker around the Nordschleife than the Mustang G3RC in Alex's testing. At 300k Credits in GT7 or 5k Mileage Points in GTS, it even costs markedly more than said 911, meaning that the usual saving grace of muscle cars, the "bang for the buck" argument, doesn't even apply to the Mustang G3RC. I've racked my head all week to come up with something nice to say about the car so as not to come across as a vengeful asshole, but I genuinely can't think of anything nice to say about the car.

Help...

W179 Sauber Mercedes C9

Arguably the most prestigious race in all of motorsports, the 24 Hours of Le Mans tends to make—or break—manufacturers and teams alike. After Mercedes had respectfully withdrawn from all forms of motorsport following the harrowing incident in 1955's 24 Hours of Le Mans, the Mercedes partnered Sauber C9 which won the very same race in 1989 may well be the single most important modern Mercedes in the company's history, transforming Mercedes overnight from shy to showy, making sure that they can look back at their history with as much pride and happiness as sorrow.

AEG Olympia Livery by Luke_C_93 livery link (GTS)

AEG Olympia Livery by Luke (Luke_C_93) livery link (GT7)

The core market share of Mercedes might not see much of a connection between their cars and the rear mid engined C9 though. After all, most Mercedes cars on the road are plush, well built, stable cruisers which happen to be silver in colour. Contort and crawl behind the wheel of the C9 however, and you'll find that many of those adjectives apply to it as well, just without the air con and leather... and a whole lot of noise. Point is, for a Group C racing car that has an as–tested top speed of 331km/h (205mph), the C9 behaves with stability and lack of drama throughout its vehement climb to said speed, remaining easy to control through the variety of corners and surfaces that the French village roads present. Much like the mid engined supercars of today with way too much power for anyone's good, the RMR C9 is set up so that whatever the corner or situation, it'll always be the front tyres that are the limiting factor from corner entry to exit, resulting in mild, slightly annoying, but easily correctable understeer in the worst of times.

...that is, once you shift into third or above.

Let's not mince words: the C9 is still packing a whopping 927HP (691kW) in Gran Turismo Sport, way more than the 530kW that Mercedes claim on their website, fed by a turbocharger that wheezes so loudly, it's almost like a backup singer trying to upstage the main star, all of which goes through well–aged tyres unfettered by traction control. We rely on a bevy of electronic nannies smarter than us to mitigate that recipe for disaster in cars today with way more power than anyone could ever use, none of which existed 30 years ago even in a Le Mans conquering car that fully utilises its 710HP for most of the race. Stuffed with over 1.5 bar (21.7psi) of boost at its peak, the 4,973cc M119HL V8 engine certainly wakes up with a furor when it comes on song at about 6,500rpm, and the turbo whistle when that happens is way more prominent an indicator than the tachometer staring you in the face. Corner exits out of Arnage or the Mulsanne Chicanes the car never had to deal with in 1989 then, need to be taken not only with a delicate and precise right foot, but also a keen ear, lest the rear mid mounted engine finds itself in the mood to overtake the ditz of a driver sitting in front of it. In Gran Turismo Sport, the non–linear throttle and overrated power makes the precise amount of go juice to give very difficult to gauge, but it's still markedly easier than trying to tame the less powerful car in Gran Turismo 7, where rear tyres have zero lateral grip. In either game and trim, it's not a car I'm very flirtatious with the limits of, and the car just somehow feels comfortable being underdriven like that at lower speed corners where the car has too much mechanical power and no aerodynamic grip.

Aerodynamic grip? Surprisingly for a car that in real life has set a new speed record of 400km/h (248mph) at la Sarthe during qualifying, the C9 has eye–watering levels of downforce despite its simplistic appearance, as does every other Group C car lumped into Gr.1. While not very apparent at la Sarthe, the C9 can take high speed corners at a rate which will cause inexperienced reviewers and drivers with bad force feedback to question reality itself when ran elsewhere, such as the newly renovated Trail Mountain Circuit in America. In saturated conditions, daring drivers will be eyeing 250km/h (155mph) on full wet tyres before the menacing Mercedes turns itself into a murderous merry–go–round. Don't ask me how I found that out.

Is the Sauber C9 the best Group C car for the odd Gr.1 race at Le Mans No Chicane? Is it competitive? Far be it from me, someone with no idea on how to drive high downforce cars, to tell you. I do distinctly remember that one rare time when Gran Turismo Sport made an effort to distinguish Group C from LMP1 though, hosting a Daily Race combo at Fuji with only the former category, which saw almost every driver opt for the C9 as though the namesake of Group C itself, which came as quite the surprise to me given how pokey it is out of technical low speed sections that comprises the last sector of Fuji almost entirely; I had thought that a NA machine like the XJR-9 or perhaps even the 787B, significantly lighter than everything else in the category, would be better suited for that particular combo. That the C9 became the firm, competitive favourite even when all factors seem to work against it then, I think is very telling of how good and competitive it is among its Group C compatriots, and should not be taken lightly under any circumstance, despite what logic may at first tell you.

That is to say, it's a car that needs to be driven instead of read or speculated about.

Car of the Week Reviews—Nissan Skyline GT-R V • spec II Nür ;02

"Godzilla". "The forbidden fruit". "The Eastern God of War". "The best car EVARGH". The fifth generation Nissan Skyline GT-R, the R34, is not short of well–earned nicknames. It has an engine that can handle four digit horsepower figures on stock internals if the 8–year old mechanics on the internet are to be believed, and unlike the Supra, it's AWD system means it can actually put the power down. And yet somehow, that didn't stop people from drifting it. The sound of its twin turbo RB26DETT engine was the anthem of many a budding enthusiast in the 90s, shaping an entire generation of us, having starred in games and films such as Gran Turismo and Fast and Furious. It really does beg the question, doesn't it? "It's the R34 GT-R. What more needs to be said about it?"

Ahh, but you see, the GT-R has earned all those credentials when heavily modified, and in a feeble attempt to actually sound my age, "we don't do that here" in Car of the Week. With the endless tuning potential of the R34, and the resultant rarity of bone stock examples, one might think that there's as much point in reviewing a bone stock R34 as there is reviewing the earphones that came with your phone, simply because they're just a formality that don't hold a candle to what's available for a reasonable price outside. The wheels, tyres, exhaust, chip, and oil filter are all stuff on a normal GT-R that gets thrown out in the same arm swing as the plastic seat covers upon the purchase. That means that this unassuming box of a sedan turned into a coupé comes kneecapped from the factory with just 276HP to haul around all of its 1,560kg (3,439lbs), and it's going up against other 276HP sports cars that are lighter and more focused, such as the NA2 NSX-R and FD RX-7. So how's an honest, hard working Godzilla supposed to compete in this climate?

Why, by lying and cheating, of course. As measured by the game, the R34 in its final iteration, the V • spec II Nür, makes a stonking 336HP (250kW) as it sits in factory fresh guise, which is heads and shoulders above the similarly lying and cheating RX-7 and NSX, neither of which even cracks 300HP. How Nissan could legally get away with printing 280PS on the car's brochures when the car is making well over 20% more power, I will never know. Sure, the R34's power–to–mass ratio might still be sagging behind its fellow 2002 compatriots, but its AWD ensures that it will at least out launch them, and still still out–accelerate the poor 5–speed FD even after that. While I've complained that the R32's drivetrain feels like it was set up from the factory to have twice its power, what with its nonexistent high rev range performance and needlessly long gearing, I have no such complaints whatsoever in the 6 speed R34. Yes, it still requires short shifting at about 500rpm below its redline, but that still means that you're shifting the car at a VTEC and Rotary rivaling 8,000rpm!

At this point, it would be a fair assumption to make that the R34 keeps up with its domestic competition via sheer power alone, but it'd also be a wrong one to make. Take the R34 around nefariously twisty mountain roads, and it will quickly make you exhibit speed that you never thought you had the balls for. While RWD sports cars of the era are tail happy, moody, no holds barred bar fights when confronted with bumps, patches of low traction, or adverse camber, the R34 simply wafts past these inconveniences as though a hovercraft. Where RWD cars are asking you to be careful, cognizant, and be ready to lift and correct in case you roll over a dry leaf on the track, the R34 is instead asking of you to relax and trust that everything's going to be okay. My favourite test track, Bathurst, feels like an entirely different stretch of asphalt in the R34 than it does a pure, raw, barbaric RWD sports car. What this translates to is that the R34 has much more adaptability and "real world" speed, even in the context of a video game, as I can set much more consistent lap times in an R34 than most other cars, and I'm including my all–time favourite FD RX-7 with a combined 20,000 track kilometres in that statement.

But, surely a soft suspension setup on a car with a lopsided 57/43 F/R weight distribution would mean that the R34 would become easily unhinged, especially under hard braking afforded by its factory Brembo brakes and 245 section Sport Hard tyres? Well, the disproportionate weight balance of the front heavy car means that the front tyres of the car always feels more capable and does more work despite being of the same size as those of the rear, which can sometimes make the car feel and drive as though an FF, wherein the front wheels dictate everything and the rears simply follow along with no opinion nor objection. Under hard braking and steering however, it's very possible—easy, even—to get the unladen rear end of the car to swing out.

And that's when you unveil the true cornering prowess of the Skyline GT-R.

Here's the thing: the game and the car's brochure may both state that the R34 is an AWD car, and that's because they have to, as it's technically correct. However, to get the most out of an R34, you must drive it as though a front heavy FR car that it is most of the time, sliding it slightly into corners to help rotate it to meet an apex to allow for the most liberal of power administration out of the corner. With that slip angle and all of the road's width, just floor the throttle pedal, and revel in amazement as the car's part–time AWD system hooks up the front tyres, giving the car the traction to full throttle out of most corners while magically ballet dancing on the tightrope that divides grip and slip. What the AWD system does is that it blends the surefootedness of an AWD and the easiness to correct of an FF to help drivers achieve the fastest RWD cornering techniques easily and consistently for as long as the poor front tyres will last, and it still amazes me how the ATTESA-ETS seems to know EXACTLY how much torque to give to the front wheels to balance the understeer up front with the oversteer in the rear! I usually detest these electronic gimmicks in cars because I either don't understand how they work, or they hinder more than help. Nissan engineers on the other hand, have somehow made a system that is easily understood and intuitive to exploit, and it's a system that debuted in 1989!

One might think that modifying a Skyline GT-R is as customary and necessary as removing the plastic covering of the seats of a new car. After all, with it being hobbled just so scrutineers could feasibly turn the other cheek when Nissan lied about having only 276HP due to a Gentlemen's Agreement between Japanese car manufacturers at the time, one might argue that putting a boost controller and a freer flowing exhaust on it is simply putting the finishing touches on the car, or even correcting it, and there are several shops in Japan or overseas that will help you do that and more. But, I think its reputation for being a tuner darling packed with potential waiting to be realised has completely clouded what an amazingly cohesive and entertaining drive it can provide straight from Nissan's Tochigi Plant. As the last and ultimate Skyline GT-R produced near the end of the infamous "276HP era" of Japanese cars, the 2002 Skyline GT-R V • spec II Nür is one of the brightest shining examples of what JDM cars of that era are all about: absent the power to use as a crush against the opposition, everything else has to be refined to a meticulous degree to edge out rivals with the same power restrictions, and perhaps there's no better example of this than the GT-R, heavily handicapped relative to its domestic rivals with how heavy it is. Every component of the car, every factor of the driving experience, has been balanced with respect to each other so finely that it almost feels a shame to tune it. Add more power to it, and inevitably you will hit a point where you'll need gripper tyres, stiffer suspension, and thus slowly that meticulously balanced cohesiveness unravels, and oftentimes you'll find that, despite the car going faster, it becomes a worse whole that isn't as enjoyable to drive.

Jimmy Broadbent's R32 GT-R by XSquareStickIt livery link (GT7)

NISMO R33GT-R 400R by mshow1215 livery link (GTS)

Skyline GT-R NISMO 400R '97 by mshow1215 livery link (GT7)

What is a stock Skyline GT-R good for then, if it doesn't spit flames and put down four digit power figures on the dyno like it does in the video games and movies? Why, I'd argue it's good for everything: drag, drift, time attacks, or even grocery runs. It's everything anyone can possibly want in a sports car, even—or especially—in stock guise. One might even argue that, absent a strict definition of what a "perfect" car should be, have, and do, the R34 is quite a strong contender for the title of perfection. If there's anything left to be said about the R34, it's that it's the Rule 34 of cars—it's borderline pornographic with how good it is.