GT7 W44: Suzuki Jimny XC '18

The fourth–generation Suzuki Jimny: cheap, honest, capable, rugged, cute, and seemingly everyone wants one. That makes me feel stupid, because I don't understand its charm—at all. All off–roaders look the same to me, and trying to sell the Jimny's rugged capabilities to someone in a concrete jungle like me is not just barking up the wrong tree; they'd be in the wrong forest entirely. I can appreciate a cheap, simple, yet capable tool for a job, sure, but I can't help but to feel a tad sad that those basic qualities are rare enough nowadays to become selling points in this industry.

Style by Haro_GT: Monster SPORT TOUGH STYLE Jimny

#monstersport #tough #replica

Style by tsubo_ms-14s: KZFxC YH Moty’s Jimny 2023

#kzf #rarry

And if I don't even understand its appeal in the real world where the Jimny does its best work, imagine the mental Jimnastics I'd have to go through to like it in a game that mostly features smooth, wide racetracks with long straights to facilitate racing GT3 and LMP1 cars. It sounds about as miserable as my bad pun, doesn't it?

Because of its extremely short and close 1st and 2nd gears primarily used for climbing steep inclines and digging itself out of mud, the Jimny has a shockingly explosive launch off the line in tandem with its 4WD system; we're talking 0–60 times of a very respectable 5.6 seconds... if measured in km/h. Past 52km/h, 3rd gear has to get involved, and that's when the pain and agony really sets in, as it'd take roughly another 10 whole seconds before the Jimny gasps and wheezes its way to triple digit speeds. I very strongly recommend readying up a Spotify playlist, or just creating your own music playlist on a USB drive and hooking it up to your PlayStation before hopping into a Jimny, strictly as aid to stay awake, because the turbocharged 3 cylinder Kei engine isn't particularly charismatic or informative in the grunts and groans it drones out in the lethargic crawl to the next corner, hyperventilating as it approaches its 7,200rpm rev limit. It thus appreciates some short shifting, but 3rd, 4th, and 5th are all so far apart from each other that there is merit in holding onto a lower gear for awhile even after the engine starts to noticeably teeter off a cliff at 6,7. Because of its oddly spaced gears, I can't really pinpoint any particular shift point for the Jimny; it all depends on the corner and which gear the car's in. Generally speaking, I shift the car earlier the higher the gears go. Of particular note is that ultra annoying big gap between 4th and 3rd, which will require 4th gear to dip to around 4,5—well below where the engine makes usable power and notable noise—before the car can shift down into 3rd. This counterintuitive gap means that I'd probably have blown up many a R06A engine on downshifts if engine damage was simulated in GT7, and it's gut wrenching to accidentally do every time, even if engine abuse sadly seems to be the way to get the shortest braking distances in this game.

Once, or IF the Jimny actually gets to a corner, that's when things somehow get worse. Unlike the vast majority of rally cars in GT7 that come with a more flexible AWD system for a curving road, the Jimny instead has a part–time 4WD system with a transfer case to traverse terrain and obstacles that would make the aforementioned cars leak their oil pans. Unfortunately, said 4WD system is forced on at all times in this game, which just results in comical understeer on a paved racetrack. In fact, the only other car I can compare the Jimny to in terms of driving feel is the 1945 Jeep Willys MB, in that both these cars are inherently understeery thanks to their 4WD systems, making them prone to feeling like being railroaded on a paved racetrack. With live axles also come extremely limited camber angle on the wheels to help dig grip out of tarmac, and as a result, these cars stop much better than they turn, and will require drivers to have mostly eased off the middle pedal before they're willing to hunt an apex. Because of this relatively low lateral load for their grip level, the cars don't roll that much when turned, which can give off a sense of tautness belying their soft springs when the tyres have grip, but suddenly become utterly helpless when said grip is lost. Hustling a Jimny around a racetrack then, involves protecting the heavily laden front tyres as though a critically endangered species of wildlife, making sure never to overwhelm them, lest the entire car seize up via the 4WD transfer case acting as a locked differential, costing the driver enough momentum to move mountains. Easier said than done with only 175mm tyres all four corners, Comfort Medium compound by default. In the wet, this transforms the steering wheel into some sort of an alien rotary massage device, as it will judder and clatter non stop with every minute request to redirect the car, making it an utterly miserable chore to wade through a wet track in spite the advantage on paper AWD confers the Jimny.

It may sound horrible to drive thus far, but the Jimny does have some traits of a fun little sports car, shocking as it is for me to write this. While the front tyres overwhelm easily, deliberately timing brake pedal abuse while the front tyres are turned and hooked up can very quickly send the short wheelbase Jimny into a slide from the sudden weight shift of its 1,030kg (2,271lbs) body stilted up 205mm (8.07in) above the ground, short–lived said slide may be from the lack of power to hold it. This makes the Jimny stupidly fun to chuck into tight corners that involve just a short, sharp dab of the brakes, such as The Chicane of Goodwood, and because that's the quickest way to actually get through those sections, it really challenges the driver to be an efficient hooligan!

Of course, power is at a premium as well, and like a good sports car, the Jimny heavily emphasises momentum driving. I had initially thought that a 63HP (47kW) car that struggles to get past 120km/h (75mph) would be too slow to race, but because the Jimny gets devoured alive by atmospheric air, it punches out a veritable black hole in its wake even at the meek speeds it does, which very noticeably sucks in trailing cars, be they similarly bone stock Jimnys, and it has just enough power and gears to take advantage of this to make one–make racing viable, unlike the Jeep and Himedic. Couple this with its somewhat idiosyncratic needs, along with heavy emphasis on momentum, and the end result is a car that lends itself to pretty ridiculous racing, keeping the pack close together while simultaneously putting a magnifying glass over the drivers' skill and adaptability. Equip the startlingly grippy dirt or snow tyres on this car, and it suddenly becomes a gargantuan test in keeping the steering wheel smooth, because all that grip means that simply turning the wheel too quickly can bust out the rear end of the car, costing crucial momentum, a stark contrast to how it handles on paved surfaces with its default Comfort Medium tyres.

I haven't understood the Jimny in real life where it does its best work, and I hadn't expected to like it in Gran Turismo 7, but the Jimny very pleasantly surprised this city boy in the virtual world, and while I still feel like I'm completely misunderstanding its intent in the real world by misusing it in a racing video game, I've still somehow come to like and respect it a fair bit all the same. Heck, most of the things I wish were better in my time with the Jimny weren't even the Jimny's fault; they were the fault of the game—I wish dirt tyres weren't so ridiculously grippy in this game, because they feel like racing items. I wish they came in different grades and hardness levels just like road tyres, allowing the Jimny to actually hold a slide under its own power on a loose surface. I also wish there were more tiny tracks like Horse Thief Mile in the game to really let cars of the Jimny's power level really shine and come alive on. It's a sleeper to me as it is now, but I have a very strong feeling that it's going to get a spicy engine swap in the near future to make it a truly compelling bargain buy. In the meantime, though, that itch can only be somewhat satiated by taking a listen to a Jimny on an aftermarket exhaust make bloody Countach noises.

GT7 W43: Ferrari F8 Tributo '19

GTPlanet's Acceptable Use Policy states that I can't link to content with profanity in them without sufficient warning, so here's your (hopefully) sufficient warning to not click on any of the hyperlinks in the text if you're not okay with profanity.

Why do I start this review with that dubious warning? Well, that's because it's a Ferrari.

The company has a nasty habit of massively underreporting their cars' mass figures. I don't trust their power figures, either. They try to control the media. Choose who gets to "buy" their cars, and then threatens them should they do car owner things, like lend them out for reviews or put wraps on their cars. They even went as far as to C&D someone for replacing the prancing horse badge with one of a cat. It seems to me as if they understand and view the world through the competitive mindset of F1: everything beneficial is to be controlled and micromanaged, and anything detrimental is to be swiftly and surely crushed. Either that, or there just simply isn't a very direct translation to Italian for the words, "fairness" and "ownership". I'm surprised that they don't try to sue other car companies for daring to require oxygen to run just like a Ferrari™, or charge a royalty fee for every utterance or worded instance of its name.

Call me stupid if you want, but I literally cannot understand how someone can be a fan of a company that does all that.

But so what. Ferrari are free to conduct themselves and their business however they please as long as they don't violate any applicable laws. Supercars are toys for the rich, and only a microscopic subset of which have the skills and context to really exploit and judge the cars. A little exaggeration and showmanship never hurt anybody. No one watches porn or wrestling demanding that the actors love or hate each other for real. The problem is that, in spite of all this hype and "help", I've just never liked a single Ferrari I've ever driven in the GT series of video games. The vast majority of them drove horribly, even with unrealistically low mass figures, and those that weren't outright disgusting to drive were just "okay" to me at best. Their highly optimistic stats in the game mean that fair comparisons with cars made by other more sensible and ethical car makers are impossible. I have tried, for years, to understand what drives the Tifosi crazy, to understand the appeal, to breathe in the mystique, but every time I try, I just end up caked in horse manure, often missing a few million credits I'd very, very much love to have back. It's almost as if I was inadvertently left out of some mass brainwashing exercise, and it's like the Ferrari I see and the Ferrari others see are completely different things.

So yeah, the 2019 Ferrari F8 Tributo, and my very unhelpful writeup of my time with it.

C&D Incoming in 10... 9... 8...

On paper, this thing is a bloody menace. 710HP (529kW) and 1,330kg (2,932lbs) are just frankly irresponsible numbers, even in the hands of a pretend racing car driver with 1337 skillz. And as if that weren't enough, the gear ratios of this thing feel ripped straight from a car with a quarter of its power: 2nd gear is just good enough for 110km/h (68mph), and the brutal acceleration of the car means that 4th will be required even before reaching the end of the rumble strips out of Turn 11 at Suzuka... which is a hairpin.

So yeah, it's fast. But it wouldn't be a supercar if it wasn't.

gee wouldn't it be funny if this style were deleted at Ferrari's request by the time you click this link

#itasha #anime #ferrari

The big story behind those fast numbers of course, is in its engine: a 3.9L V8 slung amidships with twin snails huffing into it, capable of revving up to a stratospheric 8,500rpm. Despite the F8 Tributo supposedly being a celebratory sendoff for the midship Ferrari V8, I don't feel any sort of magic or mystique from its centrepiece engine. It sounds undeniably muted from the fantastic shriek of the 458, and its turbos mean that this car gives its best acceleration when egregiously short shifted, which is to say that this engine doesn't even want to sing. Its dual clutch gearbox works quickly and nigh seamlessly, so there isn't even much of an excuse to rev this thing out to save two shifts when approaching a braking zone. As vague as it sounds, it just doesn't seem to have much of a personality or soul to it. Rather than a mechanical concert, it feels like an appliance; like a 710HP, 7,500rpm washing machine. Even someone as ignorant about the brand as me can tell that that's not very Ferrari–ish.

Style by Fast-Killer-1996: AMG GT Black Series Gercollector

#amg #blackseries #gercollector

Thankfully, the F8's handling has been much improved over the last few Ferraris I drove: the 458, LaFerrari, and the heinous F12 of the Master Licence test. The F8 lacks that horrible understeer on power reminiscent of an FF hot hatch that the 458 and LaFerrari had, and as a result, it can actually put down its savage power out of a turn without getting into a legal dispute with Armco. The front end I find is a little vague and slow to respond when the steering wheel is initially pulled off centre, but set it up early and right, and the car absolutely will bite into an apex no problem, no doubt helped greatly by coming default with ample Sports Medium tyres, which need no fancy introduction or elaboration beyond, "they work". Same with the brakes.

I'll admit: I don't tend to like road cars at this performance level. The combination of road car tyres and aero with speeds exceeding that of GT3 racecars just results in a counterintuitive chore at best and a threat at worst, and to protect their clientele, cars at this level tend to have a lot of understeer baked into them. They're not at all allowed to have any flaws, or even any sort of a playful personality of their own. When I drive these cars, I'm just clinically watching the speedo figuring out when to shift, and memorising braking points in order to not die, instead of passively reacting to the track and car. Driving a car this fast feels like a one–way communication, like I can't ever let the car "talk" to me, because I always have to be on top of it. I don't fancy fooling around or experimenting with a car this obscenely powerful. Of course, none of that is Ferrari's fault: it's just where the industry and genre of car is at, and my weird personal preferences. But because I can't find any personality in the F8, it, to me, is an "okay" car at best, and I'm sure that's really unfair to the car.

The only time it made me feel anything was when I watched Vic chain stupidly ludicrous drifts together. That made me crack a smile.

GT7 W42: Mercedes-AMG GT S '15

Honestly now: take a look at the achingly beautiful AMG GT, and tell me you need a wordy, nerdy review to convince you whether or not you want one.

I don't know why, but Mercedes cars have always given me the impression that they're classy, comfy, and capable things. Despite all their success in motorsports, boy racer things like stripes and wings just never seemed to suit their cars. And it's for this reason that I much, much prefer the older, classier AMG GT S to the overbearing GT R and Black Series. Tasteless bits like gouged out bonnets, IKEA aero, and a boy racer paint job just ruin this shape, and decals feel like straight up vandalism in my eyes. I even showed up to this week's meet without a livery—It's that good.

Yes, it's got a downsized engine. Yes, it's got twin turbos. Yes, it produces less power, and around most tracks, it's slower than the SLS AMG it succeeds. Yes, it needs a hint of a short shift to accelerate its best. But take this thing to redline gear after gear, and tell me that you care about a few hundredths on a stopwatch. Wrangle this surprisingly balanced feeling 1,570kg (3,461lbs) package into the apex of a corner, and tell me you'd rather be in an SLS. Park it, and tell me you can walk away without taking at least a look back thinking, "daaaaaamn!"

The AMG GT S might not be lightweight sports car agile, and it's certainly not the kind of car that tries to hide its heft—this is a big, heavy car that feels big and heavy all the time. But, I think it almost uses its heft and luxobarge status to demand a certain level of respect and reverence from its driver, solely as leverage to surprise them with athleticism when push comes to shove. Look, I'm not the best driver out there. Sometimes I carry too much speed into a corner, and miss an apex. Doesn't help that Nismo inadvertently set boost and slipstream to "Strong" in his GTS lobby with the alien McEwen among the grid. In those dire situations, the AMG GT puts on a fierce face of a pissed off mob boss, but then takes care of me like I'm its own flesh and blood, bending physics with pure muscle and unseen influence alike to make sure no harm comes my way. It has an uncanny ability to rotate itself almost like a swivel chair deep into a corner, where most cars would have evaporated all their front rubber, and then offer a frantic powerslide to its driver to exit the turn. It's plenty capable, with almost an idiot proof quality to it, but you know what? It never feels like a punching bag that can be taken for granted. It commands respect both from its driver and those around it. It's safe, endless theatre, almost like a roller coaster ride.

Outside of those "AMG help!" moments? The car behaves incredibly neutral. The 4.0L V8 may now be twin turbocharged, but I would've never guessed it without the game's boost gauge: the powerband just feels solid in the low and mid range, progressive throughout its rev band, satisfying to rev out, and barks out a tidal wave of sound that would make grown men weak in their knees. Weight distribution is slightly rear biased at 47:53 thanks to the cab back design of the car and its transaxle layout, but despite the front being the lighter end, it's the thinner, 265mm front tyres that will give up first as a hard stop before the 295mm rear tyres get into any real danger... unless of course, the driver buries their right foot in a low gear without TCS. No amount of engineering sorcery will save an idiot from that. On a "clean", "scientific" racetrack such as Suzuka, I get this very distinct feeling of utter chaos happening underneath the car, with the electronic dampers and rear steer systems scrambling to salvage or conjure up grip from out of thin air to shut the complaining tyres up, while the car almost seems to lay a thick carpet over it all to assure me that everything is fine. This isn't a sports car I want to push to find the bleeding edge of and romanticise about "being as one at the limits" with, so that's mostly fine as long as the car behaves, which it very much does. On a road less pretty like Bathurst and the Nordschleife, though? All of that just melts away, and the car would almost blend into the background of a mental zen if not for the respect that 502HP and 1,570kg passively demands. It just feels incredibly natural and neutral, in spite of its battleship mass and firepower, which in itself is a feat of engineering; after all, sometimes the best sign that you've done an impeccable job is if your customer doesn't notice a thing.

The Safety Car version of the GT S is a bit of a peculiar one. I've previously said that the Safety Car and Base Car perform identical to one another, but upon spending more time with the cars, I've come to see that that isn't the case. The SC has Type A front, side, rear, and wing options of the BC applied by default, and only the wing can be removed. As a result, the SC has just a hint more downforce than the BC, up from 40/60 to 60/60 F/R, neither adjustable by default. While the BC sports very fitting Titanium twin 5–spoke wheels, the SC instead has black forged cross–spoke wheels, and to my knowledge, this is the only instance of an option wheel being fitted on a variation of a car, and it's so, so cool to see. I just wish there was an option to swap wheels between both cars if they've gone through all that effort to scan the wheels!

Despite sporting no discernible difference on the settings sheets aside from the slightly different downforce, the BC and SC drive notably different on a track; the SC is just a tad bit more eager to bite in to hunt an apex, but at the cost of being the same bit more tail happy on corner exit. It might be easy to point to the increased front downforce for this difference in behaviour, but said difference becomes apparent at speeds as middling as 120km/h (75mph). I've even tried matching downforce numbers on both cars via aftermarket parts, but I still couldn't get their PP values to align. It seems like there are more changes beyond visible numbers made to the two cars, but for what reason? I couldn't tell you.

Whichever AMG GT you go for, though, it's exactly what it says on the tin: an excruciatingly beautiful GT car with on–track capabilities belying its unshakable demeanour, spec sheet, and category. In short, it's a "Sleeper and a Keeper", to borrow Baron's catchphrase. But, beyond its tangible hardware, the AMG GT S scores straight tens in the emotional checklist as well—It makes its driver feel all the right, magical things a car lover looks for in a car, and while that's something that's impossible to put into words, it's very much a sure sign that the folks at Mercedes not only know what they're doing, but they're car lovers as well. To me, the AMG GT S is a masterpiece as it is, and it doesn't need more of anything.