GT7 W38: De Tomaso Mangusta '69

As can probably be surmised from my livery of the Mangusta, I too, didn't have a good first impression of the car. I had even wanted to have my special challenge entry to just be the review of the car, but seeing everyone dog pile on the Mangusta made me want to play devil's advocate a little.

Taken on its own, the Mangusta is a torrid drive. It's a pricey LCD exclusive, flops about like JTG selling The Cobra, and takes longer than a bobble head accessory to stop, making it extremely difficult to coax any consistency out of, if not an outright hazard to drive. The steering wheel feels less connected to the front wheels and more to a binary light switch; past a certain steering angle, the rear end just lights up and gives out, and once this car starts sliding, good luck getting it back with its 32:68 weight distribution propped up on the expired pasta they call "springs". But this is precisely why I always like to bring comparison cars to pit against the Car of the Week: context.

The Shelby G.T. 350 is a stripped out homologation model, and it still weighs more than the Mangusta. It takes a similar age to stop, flops about as well, and it will shred its inside rear tyre out of a turn just to keep reminding its driver of its wide open diff. The Mangusta in comparison, has a monstrous launch thanks to its extremely rear biased weight distribution, and keeps pulling at speed with its extremely close and short 4th and 5th gears, the latter of which an obscure rarity among its contemporary peers. While the suspension setup is soft enough to make the Mangusta stargaze on power, what that also means is that the Mangusta puts down its power really well if treated gently and set up for corner exits properly, its explosive power, rear mass bias, and a locking rear diff always inviting the driver out for just a bit of fun.

At roughly 333k, the base Mangusta is by no means cheap, especially if one fancies the tan interior of the Dior version that costs a whopping half a million. But, among the cars I've shortlisted to be interesting comparisons, the base Mangusta was the cheapest by quite a margin!

De Tomaso Mangusta — 333k

Dior Mangusta — 500k

Shelby G.T. 350 — 500k

Mazda RX500 — 600k

Porsche 901 Carrera RS — 745k

*Prices are as of time of writing when the car last appeared in the LCD. Like, duh.

And here's what a quick, impromptu time attack around Laguna Seca yielded for me:

Porsche 901 Carrera RS — 1:43.0

De Tomaso Mangusta — 1:44.0

Mazda RX500 — 1:45.3

Shelby G.T. 350 — 1.47.4

So, first cheapest, second fastest. Not bad at all, I don't think!

But why did I shortlist these few cars in particular to pit against the Mangusta? Well, the G.T. 350 is simply the Shelby that's closest in performance to the Mangusta, and seeing that the Mangusta was implied to be named as such after Carrol Shelby pulled out of a collaborative effort with De Tomaso, it just seemed like a must. The RX500 is similarly a RMR LCD exclusive from the same time period, even having gullwing doors for its engine compartment like the Mangusta. The 901 is... well, most probably the single best sports car in the game, and I really needed to find something that can beat the Mangusta. It took a car costing well over double the Mangusta to beat the Mangusta and gripper CS tyres by default to do it!

The Mangusta may be wont to go the full 180 on me during those comparison tests, and yet somehow, my opinion on the Mangusta similarly 180–ed after these comparison tests gave me some context of the performance of its contemporary peers. See what a little context can do? I know you haven't clicked on that link earlier showing JTG selling the Cobra. Here it is again. Watch it now. I'm watching you. From behind. Always.

I think most people expect, prepare for, and more readily forgive classic muscle cars for their very upfront flaws. The De Tomaso Mangusta, wearing a relatively unknown Italian badge and slinging its NA V8 aft the cockpit, doesn't beget the same understanding and preparedness from its driver. Treat it as though a rear mid–engined muscle car with Italian styling, though, and I think the Mangusta will really start to shine, especially if treated with the same fear and respect that comes with classic pony and muscle cars. And hey, it will keep pulling beyond the quarter mile, and comes with a locking diff as standard! Granted, it's not a car that I will wake up one day yearning to drive, but at the same time, I'm willing to drive it for more than one race, which is more than what I had been willing to do for the Chaparral 2J and Dodge Demon.

GT7 W36: Dodge Viper GTS '13

Vipers have always been nostalgia capsules on wheels, and the last of its kind, debuting in 2013, is no different. Except, instead of unwieldy death traps of the 60s, the 5th generation, "VX" Viper reminds me of some of my favourite sports cars of the fabled 90s era, like the RX-7 and S2000.

Quite an unexpected comparison I'm making here, isn't it? After all, Vipers, regardless of generation or trim, have always been characterised by being utterly horrifying to drive at the limit, and in spite of the begrudging inclusion of basic electronic nannies like ABS, TCS, and ASC, the 5th and final Viper will still require a set of carbon fibre balls the size of its enormous clamshell bonnet to properly tango with, owing to it being the lightest and most powerful base Viper yet: a bowtie ripping 640HP shoving around a mere 3,430lbs of venom (477kW, 1,553kg) in GTS trim without the SRT Track Pack, easily making it the quickest base Viper, which means the driver has to be even quicker to dodge any potential bite backs the car might fancy.

Of course, by 2013, technology has enabled the power wars of automakers to go well beyond the comprehension of mere mortals, and even the improved numbers of the VX Viper aren't especially outstanding in an era of 638HP Corvettes and 900HP hybrid hypercars. Instead, the Viper preserves its terrifying tendencies by being entirely traditional and mechanical in its suspension setup: the VX Viper doesn't have racecar–stiff springs nor the downforce to crush it into powder, instead letting the car lean in naturally on its gargantuan 295–355 tyres to get grip. The problem with this traditional approach, of course, is that it puts the idiotic, fleshy bit somewhere aft the middle of the car in control, and if mistreated, the Viper isn't shy about snap oversteering completely and going after its own tail like a nostalgic game of Snake. This is especially problematic because there's something about the Viper's Pirelli P Zero Sport Hard tyres that make the rear end let go rather arbitrarily with little warning on power, leading to a near–unrecoverable fishtailing session thanks to the soft suspension. The brakes are insultingly and dangerously weak for a car of its power and mass, too, taking a good 30 to 50% longer to stop than would be intuitive, while barely activating ABS in the process. A freaking 2 tonne Challenger Demon would comfortably out–brake this Viper into a corner! Despite the spec sheet claiming that the VX Viper has a perfect 50:50 weight distribution, the Viper feels laboriously front heavy when trail braking into corners, requiring braking and turning to be almost entirely separate affairs. All told, there's probably a very good reason why other cars with the Viper's power aren't set up like the Viper, and it's only things with half to a third of the Viper's power and mass that let the driver have full control over the car.

And so, at this point, you might be thinking as you read this, "so, Viper terrible car, then? Why do you compare it to some of the best handling cars in this industry?" Yes, the Viper GTS is a terrible car for outright pace, but what it offers in exchange is a blast from the past in the form of an extremely raw, mechanical, involving, and engaging drive. There is almost no such thing as a casual drive in a Viper; the driver has to be awake, cognisant, and deliberate in everything that they ask of a Viper GTS, and can't rely on computer wizardry or crippling understeer to bail them out of trouble. I never get the impression driving a Viper that its makers were setting up the car to protect themselves against lawsuits from inexperienced punks. Its makers know that the Viper is a car whose reputation precedes it, and no one would go into it not knowing what to expect, and they made us a car that LETS responsible adults be kids again, and that I think is an ailing niche in a vilified industry. The reason why I say that the VX Viper reminds me of some of the best handling sports cars in history like the RX-7 and S2000 is precisely because those revered handling benchmarks were never easy to drive, either; they all had minimal electronic aids, lacked any downforce, emphasised cognisant and skilful weight shifting with soft suspension setups, demanded the driver to intuit mechanical feedback to be driven to their full potential, and made sure to have their drivers' full attention, unhesitating to snap off on inexperienced drivers. All that results in an intensely intimate and raw driving experience, just like the Viper. And for as much as the soft springs of the Viper let it move around that much more under cornering loads, they still somehow feel proportionate to the car's power and mass. Sudden tail happiness on power aside, it never once felt unfair or unpredictable, and the naturally aspirated 8.4L V10 finally feels like a proper sports car engine, wanting to be revved high in spite of its abundant mid range torque, shedding that lazy feeling that had defined Viper V10s up to this point. And it only comes with a 6–speed manual gearbox! Aren't those descriptions apt for some of the best drivers' cars out there? Why shouldn't the Viper be considered a great drivers' car, if it fits all those descriptions?

The VX Viper GTS then, feels almost like a comical exaggeration, the logical evolution, the next step, or the "hard mode" of raw, pure drivers' cars of the 90s, and at the 640HP range, I daresay it is entirely unique in being able to offer that combination of power and raw handling that comprise said "hard mode". Almost like a ridiculously difficult exam, you don't go into a VX Viper expecting to learn from the experience; you go into it putting yourself to the test to see if you have learned from past experiences, and any gratification that can be gained from doing well in it is entirely personal; no one but you is going to know what a big deal it is.

As such, even someone who loves Vipers as fervently as I do finds it extremely difficult to recommend it to others, even in a virtual setting. Just as I'm sure nobody flaunts their exam grades at a bar to pick up a partner, it's extremely difficult to say, "it's a good exam car" to recommend picking it over the swathes of other faster and easier cars to drive at this performance level, some of which include the R35 GT-R, a 458 Italia, and even the sonorous LFA. And while SPD may cite a Top Gear saying as the thing that stuck out to him the most about the VX Viper, what stuck with me the most was a different automotive media outlet with a much more sour opinion of the Viper's venom...

https://youtu.be/S3KTN6Eua_A?si=9oh-mQPEBIaV44YD

...and that would be Motor Trend's Head 2 Head Episode 24, pitting the (then) new VX Viper GTS against an outgoing C6 generation Corvette ZR1. In spite of both cars sharing very similar specs on paper, racing driver Randy Pobst not only set the faster time in the older Corvette, but he also said it was the better handling car. Quite a way to introduce the world to a brand new car, isn't it? Granted, it was a test that pit a "base" Viper GTS against the top–of–the–line ZR1 Corvette, but still.

In the game, this difference in performance is duly represented; the C6 ZR1 is some 10PP above the Viper's performance rating, and even Vic on a Hail Mary run struggled to close the gap to my Blue Devil around Suzuka. The ZR1 felt a lot more balanced, slightly more nimble, and didn't waddle around in the twisty bits as the Viper. As for whether the C6 ZR1 is more fun than the Viper to drive, though? That's... up for debate :)

I recognise that there isn't a lot going for the Viper in this game, but as a Viper fanboy, I still had a lot of fun with it, even with the limited seat time I've had with the car, and I really enjoyed the challenge it brought to the table of taming it, rarely ever feeling uncooperative or unfair. I think it's exceedingly rare nowadays for a car to be so self–assured in its identity, and it comes off as refreshingly honest to me. But its playful nature and the resultant loss in pace just highlights the sore omission of an ACR trim Viper in this game. I would've loved to see what Dodge did to fully extract the potential from this capable base of a car, and what it can stand up to in a much more focused trim. But for now, the VX Viper is, sadly, a beater.

But it is a beater I very badly need in my life.

ACS060123: VDD-005: Misfit

As I'm sure my close friends and family can attest to, I get very angry when I drive. I'll be very vocal with my critiques of other drivers in the presence of close friends and family, sometimes to the point of pissing off those trusted people in my car. It's not even opinion; it's objective facts—I'll whine about cyclists not keeping to the side of the lane, motorcyclists straddling lanes, assholes not signalling, pedestrians blatantly crossing where and when they shouldn't, etc.. It's so bad that I can start mouthing off within minutes of leaving the carpark, because Singaporeans are all that bird brained. And that's almost "play anger", where I mask my anger with satire. I haven't even gotten to the downright dangerous bits where I scream and shout and want to drag their families to the stake and beat them for the amusement of a watching gallery.

Aside from █, I'm actually a stickler for road rules. I can be █, but I'll still signal and check my blind spots when changing lanes, and I will never tailgate anyone. When other people don't reciprocate, I get very angry, because to me it feels completely disrespectful to me, akin to a slap across the face. Yes, maybe that makes me a hypocrite, flaunting rules while chastising others for breaking them, but this is my personal writing and you can sod off if you don't want to indulge my self serving fantasy for a bit.

To me, it's like someone taking your office stationery without permission, someone openly picking their nose in your presence, or someone taking your pen without your permission to pick their nose with it while staring you in the face. On their own these little things may not mean much, even if they're blatantly disrespectful. And as such maybe it makes sense to some to not get angry at these little incidents. But what does it say about the place you inhabit if the vast majority of people think it's okay to do such things? Doesn't that make you angry at the world, or at least, sad at your own situation for being stuck in such a place? People almost change when they drive, granted some slight anonymity and absent immediate, direct verbal confrontation from others, and just like the internet, some people's assholic side comes out on full display the moment they have that veil to hide behind. My endless anger every day when I drive tells me that Singaporeans are rude, callous, uncultured, stressed, angry, clueless fuckwits by and large, and yes, I inferred all that from a collection of asswipes not signalling to turn in a lane that allows turning and going straight. I inferred that from having multiple cyclists think they have the right of way at a junction, cussing me out loudly enough for me to hear in my insulated car. I inferred that from PMD riders just zooming across zebra crossings without even giving me a glance, or a chance for me to see them and slow down. I inferred that from the 3 or 4 accident sites I see on a daily basis on the job. It gets to me because I know that any of them could have easily been me, no matter how careful or responsible I think I'm being. I inferred that from that time I was stopped at a junction and got rear ended at speed that sent my two passengers to the hospital.

I'm struggling with depression and genuinely wish I could be dead, and even I am more picky about how I want to die and who I want to bring with me. I genuinely cannot fathom the mindset of the general road user here in Singapore and what drives them to be more suicidal than me.

All that anger and dissatisfaction almost comes full circle back to me, because I'm only one person and I can't change the world. Hell, changing myself is difficult enough. Case in point: I wish I could let it go. I wish I could just go with the flow. I wish these small, everyday irritancies don't grate on me as much as they do. I wish I don't feel so angry every day so it stops draining me so much so quickly. I wish I could stop expecting basic fucking courtesy from people, and just accept that I'm poor, have to work to earn a living, and as such I have to swim in the same shit infested sewers with these clown fishes. I get it: every job, no matter how isolated and secluded, has moments like these aplenty. The whole point of a job is that you be of value to others, and to be of value to others, you have to interact with them. Even in a wordless scenario like on the public roads, I get "spoken to" enough to get massively angry. It's not a job thing. It's not a country thing. It's a me thing.

Sometimes I think I'm born in the wrong place, the wrong time, on a wrong planet, or maybe to the wrong species. Sometimes I think I'll never fit in or understand people, and other times I think I truly could be somebody special had I been born into the right circumstances and given some opportunities that played to my strengths. What I'll never know is how people can be okay with other people. I'm sure it's not a me thing. I'm sure it's not a problem exclusive to this job. I'm sure most people working your typical 9–5 hate it and most of their colleagues.

GT7 W30: RE Amemiya μ Boost Up 7

The RE雨宮μ過給圧上昇7, read as the "RE Amemiya myu ka kyū-atsu jōshō SEBUN", and roughly translated as the "RE Amemiya μ Boost Pressure Up 7", is a very special car to me, and I've a lot to say about it. It might get a bit personal too. Strap in, grab some popcorn, or not. Your choice.

Fully built tuner cars are a bit of a rarity here in Gran Turismo 7, given that we can now somewhat replicate the look and feel of tuner models with custom decals, the tuning shop, and even replicas of aero parts offered by real life tuning companies. That said, however, the RE Amemiya μ Boost Up 7 has simply inimitable looks and performance, and I'm very, very glad that it exists in Gran Turismo 7—I genuinely think it's THE best looking 3rd–generation RX-7 to exist, even if the on–track LOD looks like a straight PS3 rip, especially now that I can finally paint mine in Innocent Blue Mica. It is undoubtedly my favourite FD not just for its looks, but also for its unbeatable performance in Gunsai in Hot Version's 2006 Strongest Legends of the Mountain Pass tournament, being crowned as the "Demon Lord of the Mountain Passes" alongside the Amuse S2300 GT-1. And, hey, it's the car that pulled me into this whole Car of the Week shebang :) It means a lot to me.

Unfortunately, when I say that the performance of the μ Boost Up 7 is "inimitable", what I really meant to say was, "it drives so horribly in GT7 that you would have to actively TRY to make a normal FD drive this heinously". With 3.20 and 3.00Hz spring rates front and rear, the suspension setup of the μ Boost Up 7 is just as stiff, if not stiffer than those found propping up Gr.4 racecars, and yet, it comes only with Sports Hard tyres by default, exactly the same compound as is delivered with a bone stock Spirit R RX-7. The resulting driving experience of the μ Boost Up 7 in GT7 then, is as panic inducing, cold sweat purging, and pit in your stomach simulating experience as tangoing on on a minefield laden tightrope whilst dancing around thrown tomatoes. Weight transfer is simply not a thing in the μ Boost Up 7; the tyres can't even pull enough gs to even start tilting the car in any direction, which means the body of the car doesn't lean in on said tyres to make the most of the already inadequate compound, nor can the car make any sense of its GT3–esque 3.0 and 3.4 degree camber angles, resulting in a car that is simply incapable of doing many of the things that might be typically associated with an automobile, such as stopping, turning, and going in a straight line. It's not just the suspension, either; the differential is also set up extremely tight, resulting in chronic understeer or snapping oversteer in corner entries, if not chronic understeer suddenly snapping into oversteer. Because of these issues, the μ Boost Up 7 is cripplingly reliant on engine braking as a crutch to get stopped in time and rotated for a corner, and it's a good thing that the turbocharged 13B-REW 2 Rotor Wankel Engine in the Demon Lord has had its rev limit increased by 500rpm over stock to reach 8,500rpm, seemingly just to be used for engine braking!

The μ Boost Up 7 has been set up to specifically tackle narrow, winding mountain passes such as Gunsai, and despite the Rotary Engine's reputation for being useless and damn near feeling broken when the tach needle is not in range of sniffing the rev limiter, the Demon Lord of Mountain Passes' mountaineering intentions show in the engine's power curves of all places, rather than the tyres or suspension. As its name might have already given away, the μ Boost Up 7 primarily gains power over the stock FD via increasing boost pressure—from a peak of 0.8 Bar to about 1.1 (11.6 to 15.9psi)—but the real story here is just how much of a jolt said boost defibrillates into the low to mid range of the traditionally gutless engine. For some context, 3rd gear will pull from anywhere as low as sub 4k rpm; around 50km/h (32mph), and will continue to pull a little past where it hits peak power at 6,900rpm, at about 150km/h (93mph). Unfortunately, said boost does deflate in a very anti–climatic fashion even before peak power at 6,900rpm, and I personally upshift most gears at 7,000rpm—or "just as soon as you see red in the rev bar" in HUD speak—and even that might be considered a bit late. The exception to that, of course, is when upshifting to the moonshot overdrive 5th gear, for which I'd like to hang onto 4th up to about 7,300rpm—about 40% of the rev bar.

The idea behind this obscene mid range torque I assume is to allow the car to be lugged out of extremely tight corners in low range 3rd gear, and with such ample headroom in the rev range, shifting can be minimised by holding onto a lower gear when fast approaching yet another corner in an incessantly twisting ribbon of road, such as mountain passes. It's not only conceivable to do some narrow tracks like Horse Thief Mile entirely in 3rd gear without shifting, it genuinely feels like the quickest way to do it! On most "normal" tracks however, this means that the car has to be driven in a somewhat counterintuitive way: downshift immediately on braking to get the most of the much needed engine braking on corner entries to get the car stopped and rotated, only to upshift before hitting the apex to settle the car and make use of its low end grunt to power out of the turn. It'd be really something to watch the footwork of someone driving this car quickly! Once upshifted before the apex, there won't even be much engine noise, only the turbos as they audibly take another hard hit at the good stuff to see them through yet another unreasonable ask of breathing life into a slow spinning Rotary Engine. Step on it, and it will be there, the only noise besides the turbos gasping for more air is the rear tyres crying out in agony if the driver is too used to equating engine noise to power in a Wankel Rotary, and too used to an FD3S RX-7 handling well. But when the driver gets it right, there is a silent, eerie efficiency in how the car rockets itself out of a tight spot, and no matter how many kilometres I put into my μ Boost Up 7, that's something I can never get used to. It always feels uncanny, almost magical, especially to those who have spent a lot of time driving Rotary Engines.

Being a car categorised by its rare "#Professionally Tuned" tag, the μ Boost Up 7 appears anything but—In my clumsy hands, my fastest lap with the μ Boost Up 7's original settings at 566.37PP around Streets of Willow is a low 1:20, cherry picked from a long list of messy laps. An Amuse NISMO 380RS Super Leggera (567.05PP) and a Porsche Cayman GT4 981 (570.20PP) both fresh from the factory with the same Sports Hard compounds produced mid to low 1:19 laps in the same clumsy hands... after just two laps each, and they were both a lot more consistent than the Demon Lord, not being nervous wrecks to drive! Trust me when I say that a 4PP difference shouldn't amount to a whole second in an 80–second lap. During our weekly lobbies dedicated to the Amemiya FD, no one aside from me wanted to drive the Amemiya FD, and I got walked by everyone in bone stock cars with comparable PP ratings, completely unable to do anything. Contrary to what the "#Professionally Tuned" tag would have people believe, then, the μ Boost Up 7 very badly needs fixing just to perform at a level that its Brand Central fresh 566.37PP would suggest, and even an amateurish hand applying basic fixes, like softening the springs raising the ride height a bit, and taking away some camber angle would go a long, long way.

Coming bundled with mid to high tier aftermarket parts for a fraction of the Spirit R RX-7's asking price might seem like a huge bargain at first, but this I find works to the detriment of the Amemiya, because it severely limits the μ Boost Up 7's headroom for growth. For reference, here's all the parts that can be bought for the Amemiya to boost up its performance further:

• All road tyres (no offroad tyres)
• Racing Computer
• Turbo Kits (High, Ultra High)
• Anti Lag System
• Racing Air Filter
• Racing Intercooler
• Racing Silencer/Muffler
• Fully Customisable Gearboxes (5–Speed)
• Racing Brake Pads
• Racing Brake Kits
• Brake Balance Controller
• Hydraulic Handbrake and Steering Angle Adapter
• Power Restrictor and Ballast
• Increase Body Rigidity
• Custom Rear Wing

Crucially, the Amemiya FD doesn't get any mass reduction at all. It completely lacks a wide body option, and the only aerodynamic parts that can be bought for it is a custom rear wing, or the removal of it entirely, which means that it can't just minimise front downforce to game the PP system, having to rely solely on increasing rear downforce to shrink its PP under event requirements. Decreasing the engine's power via the Power Limiter also shifts its already low torque range even lower. Oh, and that Racing Silencer/Muffler? Yeah, that sounds like it came straight from the Public Registry of Ear Offenders that is GT5 and GT6. DON'T.

While not an issue specific to the μ Boost Up 7, I find it extremely disappointing that the Turbo Kits in this game don't shift the engine's peak output points by any meaningful amount, only decaying the curves by varying amounts in the leadup to said peaks. Peak power and peak torque for the Amemiya is at 6,9 and 5,0 respectively, and even with a racing chip and "ultra high" rpm turbo, those figures end up at 7,2 and 5,1 at most. This is an especially stinging loss for the Amemiya, as I had always wanted to make use of its increased rev limit to feed more boost into the engine for more power, just to see what it'd be like. Unfortunately, there is nothing that can be done to change its power curves or the way it needs to be driven in any meaningful way; it's just stuck as a short shift car ill–suited for high speed tracks, especially because PD is hell bent on not giving 5–speed cars the option for a sixth forward cog.

Style by XSquareStickIt: 787B-Styled FD3S RX-7

#787b #lemans

Compare all that to a bone stock Mazda RX-7 Spirit R then, which not only has much better balanced power curves, but also has access to a wide body, all of the aforementioned bolt ons for the Amemiya, all four Turbo Kits, carbon prop shaft, 5 stages of mass reduction, a rear diffuser, and is even able to fit both offroad tyres if for whatever reason the fancy strikes. With both FDs retaining their 2–Rotor 13B engines on Sport Hard tyres, the Spirit R maxes out at a whopping 680PP, whereas the Boost Up 7 tops out at a mere 620PP. All this is even before we even take into account the fact that the Spirit R gets an ungodly cheat engine as an engine swap option, the Naturally Aspirated 4 Rotor R26B straight out of the 787B racecar, complete with racecar power, fuel efficiency, and an immaculate power curves! The Amemiya on the other hand, doesn't even get an (ethical) engine swap!

And so, what we have with the Amemiya μ Boost Up 7 is an unbelievably cool looking FD3S RX-7 for a mere 2/5th the asking price of the now horribly inflated Spirit R RX-7's price, albeit one that drives horrendously fresh from the dealership, and has an inexplicably lower performance ceiling than the bone stock car. For the exact same 100,000 Credit asking price, one could buy the Amuse NISMO 380RS Super Leggera, which offers similar performance to the μ Boost Up 7 on the latter's best runs, while being MUCH nicer to drive than the Demon Lord. If money is no object, just get a Cayman GT4 for 130,000 Credits. It's NA, it's rear mid engined, it's got a 6–speed stick, and it's virtually indistinguishable from a bona–fide racecar from the outside.

I'm not proud to admit this, but seeing almost everyone but me still representing the Amemiya FD in our weekly lobbies dedicated to the Amemiya FD, and getting walked by every single one of them whilst I was completely unable to do anything was genuinely upsetting, to the point where I almost teared up. I'm usually not this invested in a car when testing; the whole point of a test and a review is to ascertain how good a car is, and if a car is bad, it's bad, and I'll just write that it's bad and move on. But the FD3S RX-7 is a car that really speaks to the 10–year–old kid in me, and I was thinking very much like a 10–year–old kid during race day: "It was completely unbeatable in Gunsai! It's supposed to be good at handling! Other people said so in videos!!! This is my HANDLING GOD!!!" I was genuinely upset and mad at Polyphony Digital for doing my childhood hero dirty like that, to the point where I was almost tearing up during race day. (Don't worry, I'm not blaming anyone here in COTW, this is just me having a moment with a very special car. Probably never going to happen again.)

And so hopefully you'll forgive me if I drag out this review by trying a simple fix in attempt to salvage my childhood hero: putting on Sports Soft tyres.

You see, back in the car's first appearances in the Gran Turismo series with GT5 and GT6, the Amemiya μ Boost Up 7 originally came default with Sports Soft tyres, which I believe the car was set up for. In GT Sport, the car came with Sports Hard tyres like almost every road legal car in the game, and, unsurprisingly, many of us in GTS COTW found it to be a twitchy, nervous, grip deprived mess of a car, myself included. But GT Sport, being an e–sports focused title, always did a disservice to road cars with its mindless default tyre allocations, and was always thought of as an exception to the series. Now that everything in GT7 comes with tyres that they ought to—Comfort Hard tyres for an S800 and Sports Medium for a ZL1 Camaro—the fact that the Amemiya μ Boost Up 7 still doesn't come with appropriate tyres feels very much like a developer oversight to me.

And so, with a vengeance, I paid Rupert 4,500 Credits to fix my car.

Aaaaaaaaaand the car is still difficult to drive.

But WHAT a car it became! The wealth of grip offered by the Sports Soft tyres allows the car to bring mind–bending, almost racecar speeds into corners, the likes of which unthinkable for a road legal car. To give some context on just how much speed an SS–shod Demon Lord can bring into a corner, picture this: The Aston Martin Valkyrie—a modern day, carbon clad, track focused, rear mid–engined hypercar with gobs of downforce, heavy F1 influence, and the same Sports Soft compound—dipped to a minimum speed of 104km/h (65mph) on T1 of Red Bull Ring in my hands. The μ Boost Up 7 matched that exactly. It has so much grip that I could overtake the brain dead AI of the Tokyo grind race round the outside, dry line be damned! Slap Racing Hard tyres on the Demon Lord, and it will even match some of the slower Gr.4 machines before BoP blow for blow, 5–speed stick shift and all!

The advantages and full potential of the wide, low, and light body of the FD3S is fully highlighted here with these springs and tyres, as is the front–midship placement of the 2–Rotor 13B Wankel engine; this car combines the best of both an FR and RMR car, in that it has such an eager front end that slices into corners with precise purpose, yet always has some weight over them that helps with grip when on power or driving in the wet. The tight suspension setup keeps the car dead level and utterly devoid of any unnecessary and wasteful motions, just like that of a racecar, allowing all four of the 255/40R17 Yokohama Advan A048 tyres to work their magic at all times without tasking the driver to choose which tyre is to get grip, and which isn't. With adequate rubber to finally be fully utilised, the Stoptech brakes with Project μ pads bring the Demon Lord down to speed so quickly that my T300RS completely gives up on downshifting Your Majesty quickly enough to engine brake the car properly, making me wish I had a H pattern just so I could skip shift the car... on braking zones. For some context, I enter The Chute of Watkins Glen in 4th gear, often wanting to grab 2nd just for the engine braking, only to want 4th back soon just to power out of it. Despite having a rather high 8,500rpm rev range, this car I daresay has use for well over half of it on the track!

With the car requiring its own very specific logistical flowchart to be driven optimally, and with very quiet tyres and engine, the μ Boost Up 7 is a car that demands of its driver to be hyper vigilant of the car's quirks and tendencies, and pay full attention to everything that's going on with the car to get the most of its bountiful potential. The car is still twitchy, and it won't hesitate to snap off violently if the driver's concentration or skill lapses for just a split second. Sometimes the springs still feel a bit too stiff, and the diff a bit too clingy. Even seemingly innocuous rumble strips, like the inside of Suzuka's Degner 1, can send the winged beast flying. But that is not to say that it's uncooperative or unwieldy; it does give due tactile and progressive feedback and warning, however quickly those flash by. It just demands an equally fast driver to process all that information and stimuli thrown at them, and make the most of it in several split second decisions squeezed into a single moment. Being an old chassis that is almost entirely reliant on mechanical engineering for its speed, this is a car that has to be driven with the old school adage of "steering with the throttle" in mind. Because of the stiff setup in the μ Boost Up 7, the throttle pedal is indeed very much required to get the car rotated out of most apexes, but there is so much torque and so little engine noise as feedback to work with that it genuinely feels like trying to walk a tightrope with just my right foot with a blindfold on; I'm just forced to know the tyres' breaking point instinctively via repetition, just so I can somewhat consistently keep it right smack in the middle of slip and grip to get the car rotated just so out of corners. Of course, that's much easier written than done; the steering wheel doesn't lighten up much even when the rear tyres let go, and the Demon Lord's appetite for Sports Soft tyres could cleanse the underworld of the compound—4 laps of Watkins Glen at 1x wear is enough to make the HUD show red. This is a car that never feels the same two laps in a row, demanding a driver's full attention, dedication, and a finely calibrated sixth or seventh sense if they have it, just to hold it on that fine line between magic and mayhem.

Needless to say, trying to extract the most from the μ Boost Up 7 is a fervently intense experience, even—or especially—when The Demon Wears Yokohama. My palms always hurt from all the abrasion against my T300RS wheel after driving it, and I'm always caked in sweat as though I just had a mild workout just sitting on my ass the whole time. It gets my heart and mind racing so fast that I have trouble falling asleep if I drive it too close to bedtime! But while it's a very precarious car to try to get right, it's also one of THE most rewarding cars when the stars and slip angles align, and when I get lucky and have those moments when the car barely lets me get away with what I ask of it, god damn. GOD DAMN. No other car in GT7 has made me smile and laugh like a little kid like that! It may do almost Gr.4 levels of speed on Sports Soft tyres, but it certainly won't baby the driver like those entry–level racecars would. It feels just out of reach for someone of my calibre, and because of that, it always feels fair, challenging, and rewarding to me. And that, I think, is something that is so, so rare in the automotive world today: the μ Boost Up 7 a bloody fast car with personality. The relationship with the car isn't a one–way street, wherein the car just does everything I tell it to without protest or complaint; I talk to it and it talks back to me and we try to find something that works for us both or end up dying. I just can't believe something this bloody raw, brutal, and quick can be allowed on public roads! I almost find it insulting that the newly added Extra Menu Book, "Road–Going Racers", doesn't feature the μ Boost Up 7. In fact, here's what my three Road–Going Racers would look like:

While slower than the Amuse 380RS and Cayman GT4 on Sports Hard tyres, the script flips when all 3 cars fit the Amemiya's preferred Sports Soft rubber. The μ Boost Up 7 out brakes and out corners the rear–midship Cayman GT4, with the svelte Stuttgart seductress being able to reel back in the chiseled champion from Chiba in the longer straights of Watkins Glen, where the more powerful Cayman with one more forward gear takes full advantage of the Amemiya's limp overdrive 5th gear past 205km/h (127mph). At the end of their roughly 117–second excursions, though, the Amemiya was convincingly ahead of the Porsche by 7 tenths of a second. And while much easier to drive than the Amemiya and Porsche, the Amuse 380RS honestly doesn't even belong in the same conversation in terms of sheer pace, being a whopping 1.5 seconds slower than even the Cayman!

And, yes, you're seeing that right: the Amemiya was actually the car with the lowest PP rating among the three, meaning it needs just a tick more downforce to its adjustable wing to slip under 600PP on Sports Soft tyres, making it the perfect fit for the Clubman Cup+ event held there! Keep in mind that the Amemiya's 600.05PP already includes a fully customisable suspension and diff, unlike the other two whose PP would raise further with those fully customisable parts! In other words, there is even more free speed to be had from the Demon Lord if you want to make it suit your driving style, and customising it further won't even increase its PP value any!

Perhaps the game calculates the Amemiya's PP with automatic shifting ill–suited for the μ Boost Up 7, giving it a PP value lower than what would be representative of its capabilities. I think a lot of the Demon Lord's otherworldy speed was in just how blatantly the it could defy common sense and stereotypes by brazenly lugging itself out of The Glen's many tight corners in high gears, shaving off upshifts. In other words, it's bloody quick for a 600PP car on Soft tyres. Also, because of the egregious short shifting the car asks of its driver, the μ Boost Up 7 is shockingly fuel efficient, too; my detuned C6 Corvette does around 2:09 laps in the Tokyo grind race, and has enough fuel for 9 laps flat out. The Amemiya has enough for 11.5 laps... while being only a second off the 'Vette. Not bad for a car that struggles to hit 280km/h (174mph) in clean air, huh?

If you've understandably written off the car when we raced it in our weekly lobbies, I highly recommend, urge, implore, beg you to give this car a second chance on the Sports Soft tyres it arguably should've come with. If you have a love for tuner culture, Japanese cars, pure sports cars, have a fetish for performance, or just love driving in general, I think you owe it to yourself to give this car a drive on SS tyres—I seriously think it's THAT good. It makes me dearly miss the earlier GT games, where many more such fully built tuner cars were included in the car roster. Tuner culture felt a lot more represented and celebrated back then. The Amemiya μ Boost Up 7 is an all too rare testament in Gran Turismo 7 to how far tuners in real life can take a fairly basic car to with good ol' mechanical engineering, how a Swiss Army Knife of a capable sports car can be adopted to suit various different purposes, and it is a delight to every sense that can be blessed through the digital divide. Maybe there are faster cars at 600PP. Maybe the Spirit R RX-7 can do this and more if I really invested the time into it. But at this point, I just don't care about that crap anymore. This car is a statement, an example, and an experience—one I wouldn't trade for anything else in the world. I had such an exhilarating experience with the car. It was like opening a time capsule from more than a decade ago, and all the emotions and memories of that starry–eyed, innocent, ambitious, and honestly kinda stupid 17–year old kid bared on the track with modern day GT7 physics. It felt like two worlds colliding and meshing together. And in that moment, I nearly teared up again, this time, from overflowing joy.

And that is all the redemption I needed, and can close this "review" with a smile on my face :)

GT7 W32

I don't get American cars, at all.

I've no idea why they have pickup trucks bigger than minibuses when light lorries and vans can carry the same loads, if not more. I don't get why they use piss for fuel. Their turn signals are dumb, sometimes they come with front license plates, sometimes they don't. Cars released in 2023 are marked as 2024 model years. Their gallon is different from the gallon of the rest of the world, but their mile is still the same as everyone else's. Go figure.

But the one that baffles me the most is the muscle car. Pony cars, too. Apparently, there's a distinction between those two terms, which is only a very recent realisation for me. Either way, I genuinely can't tell the difference between a Mustang, Camaro, and Challenger when they're all FR 2 door bricks packing F–off NA V8 engines with gearing aimed at the quarter mile. What's this weird obsession, almost unwritten rule that it must be FR and NA V8? If you wanted the best quarter mile times, why wouldn't you make the car rear–midship with AWD?

And why would they put a Corvette engine into a Camaro and give it the Corvette's Magneride when, they, you know... have a Corvette? A Corvette is was a 2 door FR sports car with better aerodynamics. Why not just drag race the Corvette at the quarter mile instead of the Camaro? What purpose do the pony and muscle cars serve that the sports car doesn't already do better?

And so you can imagine my confusion when the 2018 Dodge Challenger SRT Demon was added to Gran Turismo 7 in the most recent 1.40 update, a car whose explicit goal is to run quarter miles in the 9 seconds range. My brothers in Buddha, you had a Viper. You could've dropped the Hellcat or Demon engine into that. You could've put all that time, money, and engineering into your flagship pride and joy Viper instead of an almost literal brick. Why didn't you?

As some of us have already reported, there is actually no way in hell a Demon can do the zero–yon in 9 seconds in the game. In fact, when I raced my peers' Demons in my Camaro ZL1 and Viper GTS, they all comfortably out launched the supposed dragster. Not only that, the Demon barely pulled away from my ZL1 on gimped Sports Hard tyres on Conrod Straight, and a 6–speed stick shift Viper pretty much hung with the Demon... around Daytona. What is the point of putting 840HP into something with the aerodynamic profile of a brick wrapped in sandpaper? What is the point of having 840HP if the vast majority of it is buried up top near redline, and can put none of it down out of a corner? What is the point of having 840HP if cars with 640HP can keep up with it? Plus, you know, neither the ZL1 nor the GTS required me to use TCS to keep them on the paved stuff. The Demon is liable to kill its driver even with TCS enabled. That's how awful it drives.

Maybe pony cars and muscle cars are supposed to be cheaper than their flagship sports cars and appeal to the everyman. But then again, the Demon costs a whopping 200,000 Credits in the game, which is almost 1.5x the price of a goddamn Viper, and well over twice that of the ZL1. And then you consider the fact that both those comparison cars hover around 600PP on Sports Hard tyres while the Demon sits at 620PP, yet still can't convincingly outperform either, and it's just... haaaaargh I don't get it.

And how the HELL does one manage to make a 2 door coupé nearly 2 tonnes in mass?! It's not even a luxurious GT car!

The part that baffles me the most is that, in 2018, people are still making petrol powered dragsters. If you're making a one–trick–pony, at least make sure that it, you know, is the best at the one trick it does. Not only does the Demon not do its one trick best, it can't do any trick semi–decently. If the whole defining trait of Dodge performance cars is that they have comical power and go fast in a straight line, they're going to have a serious identity crisis in the age of the EV takeover.

What a dumb fuck car this is. Complete waste of my fucking time and money.

GT7 W29: Mazda Roadster NR-A (ND) '22

Miata may always be the answer in the not very curious world of the automotive enthusiast, but hopefully nobody tells you that you can just roll up into the pits of your local race track during race day in a stock MX-5 and expect to be allowed to compete—you'll need a Roadster for that, and only if its name ends in the three letters, "NR-A".

Limited to only its home market of Japan, the NR-A grade of the enduring Mazda Roadster, which debuted in its 2nd "NB" generation model, is essentially a road legal, built to spec racecar offered directly by Mazda for entry into the JAF–sanctioned Roadster Party Races held across Japan. Using the most basic, stripped out "S" model as a base, standard issue parts for track use on the NR-A include adjustable Bilstein dampers, a reinforced driveshaft, front suspension tower bars, enlarged brake rotors and radiators, and even the differential from the 2 litre Roadster models normally meant only for the RF and export models, paired to the JDM exclusive 1.5 Litre Inline 4. And of course, as one would expect from a modern racecar, tow hooks, a roll cage, 6 point harnesses, bucket seats with throwback Mazdaspeed branding all prominently feature on the NR-A... as options. All these heavy duty track items add around 20 kilos (44lbs) to the base, barebones S trim already represented in the game, bringing the NR-A to what Mazda quotes to be 1,010kg (2,227lbs), putting its mass on par with the S Special Package trim. Overall, these items don't radically transform the NR-A into a fire breathing track monster, but I think that minimalistic list of changes is indicative of just how race ready, dead reliable, and built with a laser focus the base car already is, and I think that's really, really cool.

Unfortunately, there are more than a few inaccuracies with the NR-A model in Gran Turismo 7, and they irk me to no end: The fire extinguisher in the passenger footwell is completely missing, for starters. The blacked out middle brake light cover on the boot lid of the car, an NR-A exclusive detail and thus a surefire way to tell one apart from its kin, is not present. The digital NR-A also sits 20mm lower than its real life model due to the ride height drop from the Sports Suspension equipped by default, measuring in at 120mm (4.72in) when the real car sits at 140mm (1.57in), same as any other Roadster grade. Also, because the roll cage is fitted to the car by default, it cannot be coloured at all by any means, unlike the aftermarket item of the S that is accepting of any hue and finish in the livery editor. The default licence plate reads "ROADSTER" in the now phased out Mazda Font, when 2022 models should've long since adopted the newer Mazda Type font. And, this may be a minor thing not specific to the NR-A, but I find that it sticks out much more in a car specifically made to go racing: the GT Auto tow hooks are stuck onto the tow hook anchor point covers instead of removing the cover and screwing in the tow hooks, and that just looks INCREDIBLY stupid to me, almost like glued on ricer items rather than functional racing equipment. While tow hooks may be an option on the NR-A grade and only fitted for track use, they're still a requirement for participation in the Roadster Party Race, and thus I argue is a standout feature of the trim, and it's such a shame they look so goofy on the NR-A in GT7. It genuinely appears to me that Polyphony Digital took the existing 2015 S model, replaced the seats, added a roll cage, and installed a Sports Suspension as standard, and called it the 2022 NR-A instead of actually scanning a real NR-A for the game.

GT Auto tow hooks on the NR-A

NR-A option tow hooks on the car

Photo: Mazda

To cap it all off, the S and NR-A share mostly identical wide bodies and aero parts in GT Auto, with the NR-A adding to or replacing the S' options. It really feels to me like Polyphony Digital really couldn't be bothered with the flagship sports car of its official partner, and it just reeks. And that's even before we consider the fact that the 2022 NR-A was one of the very few cars added to this anorexic game post–launch, when we're still missing any representation for the NB and NC generations of the Roadster. They could've at least given us a visually striking RF model with the mechanically distinct 2L engine, or even a Fiat 124 Turbo, but noooooope, here's a largely similar car to what you already have, made on the cheap. Deal with it.

Look, I love Mazdas. I want the NR-A, both in the game and IRL, but even I can't deny what a slap across the face the NR-A feels like in the context of GT7.

The 2022 NR-A we got in the game may look largely identical to the base model S, but does it drive similar?

I'm sure anyone who's managed to squeeze into the claustrophobic ND Roadster will report that two of its most glaring shortcomings are its low power figure and floppy springs, and I'm very happy to report that the track focused NR-A has addressed that latter issue, exhibiting no–nonsense tautness and immediacy approaching bona fide racecar territory. Just this one change alone completely transforms the personality of the car, from a casual, goofy, fun loving, but sometimes too unserious and borderline dangerous car into something that is easy and immediate to place, feeling like a proper weapon to wield. Despite the NR-A weighing 20 kilos more and packing negligibly more power, just the suspension changes alone made the NR-A around 4 tenths quicker around Tsukuba than the S in my hands. Of course, the 195/50R16 Comfort Soft tyres are exactly the same that is found on the base S model, and so grip in the NR-A is still extremely limited, especially now that the car isn't massively leaning on them with its tightened setup. I personally would soften the damping on both ends a bit, as I find it can be hard to put weight over the tyres without big, heavy pedal inputs, making the car hard to minutely adjust mid corner. Understeer also tends to be a bit of a problem in high speed sweepers that don't let drivers stomp on the middle pedal to shift weight up front for beforehand. That is to say, the car is very reliant on the brakes to get turned, which can work against the car even at notoriously tight tracks like Tsukuba and Streets of Willow.

Thankfully, none of that is to say at all that the track focused NR-A has traded in its playful and feisty nature to become a soulless track weapon; in fact, I'd argue that the NR-A only truly comes alive when it loses its grip on the pavement. The base Roadster is already one of the best cars to learn fast driving in because of how slowly it lets go, and with how much warning and communication it gives drivers throughout. In the NR-A, this trait only gets highlighted more, as the car loses most of its snappy tendencies to its taut suspension setup, leaving only safe, gradual slides that only helps rotate the car into the apex of turns. Couple this with the slight bias towards understeer, and this is a car that will very quickly make clear to its driver that it wants a hint of yaw angle into a corner for the highest minimum speed and earliest throttle application out of the corner, and it just begs for a confident driver to flick its steering wheel hard into a corner on the brakes with full commitment and smoothness to get the most of it. And with its low grip tyres, the car gives its driver so much surreal, tactile buildup into a slide, it feels like I enter bullet time when the tyres start to screech, and everything comes into hyper focus: the steering wheel becomes a novel written in braille. The throttle and brake pedals are every bit as involved in the rotation of the car as the steering wheel. All four tyres would almost be a relaxing ASMR experience if not for the tiny NA engine begging to be kept screaming to hold that slide. In that moment, every bit of the car just fits and clicks together immaculately with such ridiculously satisfying fashion, it's almost like watching a master craftsman assemble a watch. Except, I'm no master craftsman or driver; the car just makes me feel like one. Mazda may like to throw the term, "Jinba–Ittai" around as a marketing slogan. I just think it's driving euphoria that no other car, no other Roadster in any other trim, can give. If you ever find yourself in a position to playtest gaming wheels before purchase, there is no car I'd recommend more than the NR-A for that pleasure.

Having experienced that cohesion that created something that is, in my mind, worth well more than the sum of its parts, I'm so genuinely smitten by the car that there isn't much of anything I want to change at all on the car. I don't want more grip. I don't even want more power. The car is made to make perfect sense with what it is. Everything meshes together and balances with each other so perfectly in the NR-A that changing one thing feels like pulling one string and unfurling an intricate, beautiful knot. The stiffness in the suspension gives me reason and ability to slide it. The moderate power and immediacy of a small NA engine gives me perfect control to hold and adjust slides for the grip level it has. And while undeniably low powered, the Roadster never feels disengaging to drive even in the lull between the twisty bits of the track; said 1.5L NA Inline 4 P5-VP engine in the NR-A very oddly requires just a slight hint of a short shift before its 7,500rpm redline for optimal acceleration, always giving drivers something to do and think about even as they wait for the next corner. And unlike some of the other cars we've tested here in COTW, the Roadster doesn't hit terminal velocity and stop accelerating well past the 200km/h mark (124mph), which will see the NR-A pull even to the end of some of the longest straights in the game, such as Conrod Straight of Bathurst. The fact that it keeps pulling for so long ensures that every bit of corner exit momentum and slipstream its driver can eke out meaningful throughout the whole straight, and to me, that's enough power to race.

The one thing that's still somewhat niggling at me is that I'd prefer 2nd and 3rd gears to be a bit closer together, as the dropoff when upshifting to 3rd drops the engine to the very bottom edge of its healthy power zone, making the gear ratios rather inflexible to work with. The low speed corners that this car craves often has me choosing between making a short lived downshift into 2nd sniffing the limiter, or lugging the lifeless car out in 3rd, and sometimes it can feel like there isn't a correct choice between the two. I do sometimes wish the front end was softer to reduce that horrid understeer when off the brakes, and the resulting reliance on the brakes to turn, and I imagine the car must be horrid with worn tyres. On cold rubber at race start, the rear end is almost heinously loose under hard braking, but at this point, I'm so smitten by the car that I'm just going to say that adds some old school supercar charm to the car: it's a racecar that I can drive to the shops and back, it'd be my honour to treat it with some caution and respect!

I started the week posing the question to everyone: Why would I want the NR-A over the S (in the context of this game)? Unsurprisingly, a Mazda Roadster only makes sense after being driven and experienced rather than weighed on numbers alone. Yes, for the 6,050 Credits the NR-A costs over the S, you could just slap a racing chip or better tyres on, and have a faster car than the NR-A. You could even buy the 3,100 Credit Sports Suspension upgrade and put a 1,000 Credit paintable roll cage in to match the NR-A and get a similarly performing car with change leftover. But trust me when I say that no crummy aftermarket part will get you this level of precision, playfulness, linearity, and tactility, unless you're willing to shell out nearly half the price of another Roadster S for a full custom suspension and spend hours tinkering with it. The NR-A may cost a bit more than the S, but if you intend to tune a ND Roadster for whatever reason, be it to organise a spec racing event or simply adding more power to it, the NR-A will save you a lot of time, certainly more than 6,050 Credits worth of time.

In essence, the NR-A is exactly what it says on the tin: it's a spec racing car that buys you a budget ticket into an exciting world of grassroots racing, removing entirely the long and arduous process of finding a setup that works for racing, being ready right off the assembly line. Despite its low price tag relative to bona–fide Grouped racecars, I genuinely think the NR-A is right up there among the best one–make racecars in the game. It just proves that racing has almost nothing to do with outright speed, is best without downforce, ground effects, and the resultant stiff suspension, low, scraping ride heights, and dirty air. Maybe it won't look as exciting to the audience from the outside, but to actually drive and have a race in? I'd genuinely rather the NR-A than any GT500, LMP, or Super Formula.

I love Mazdas. I think most sim racers do, because they make the best drivers' cars out there. We at Car of the Week are featuring our 3rd Mazda in a row. But even someone like me hadn't expected to fall so deeply in love with a Roadster with a cage and stiffened suspension. Even someone who expects to like every Mazda he drives is pleasantly surprised by the NR-A, which should hopefully tell you just how darn good the NR-A in GT7 is, flaws and all.