GT7 W119: Nissan GT-R LM Nismo '15

I've long held the opinion that, to evaluate a soulless tool purpose–built to do one job and one job only, a racecar's worth can be very simply and quickly summarised by where it ended up on the finishing order. By that metric, the Nissan GT-R LM Nismo is perhaps one of the worst racecars in modern history, being an LMP1 riddled with countless technical issues that made it qualify slower than some LMP2s, and of the three cars entered into the 2015 24h of Le Mans, only one survived to see the chequered flag, but was so far behind the leaders that it didn't qualify as a finish.

However, at the risk of sounding like an utter hypocrite, I've always had a soft spot for the "LongBoi", and I hardly think I'm alone in that sentiment. While history books may remember the LM Nismo as a failure, I've always held it in high regard not only for Nissan daring to be different and putting money and effort where their mouths were, but also for allowing such a seeming blight on their storied history be immortalised and preserved in Gran Turismo, and I think they can and should be proud of daring to be different. Blessed with a functional hybrid system in the games, the LongBoi sent ALL of its ungodzilly power to its poor front wheels via a 5–speed gearbox, and to say that it's the proverbial one–legged man in an ass kicking contest would be an understatement; it's more a one–legged T–Rex in an ass kicking contest trying to channel a nuclear–powered dropkick through a makeshift shoe out of a well–used echidna condom. Mechanical faults may not be simulated in Gran Turismo, but the digital LM Nismo was nonetheless quite true–to–life in how uncompetitive it was in the games, and it's a fact that has had a radioactive light shone on it when the LongBoi was carried over into Gran Turismo Sport, a game laser–focused on e–sports and categorised racing.

But it's precisely because the LM Nismo is so very ostensibly an underdog that makes anyone who rocks up to a Gr.1 grid in it an instant rock star, guaranteed to catch the attention of everyone else in the same way that an AE86 would command attention lined up beside an FD3S on a mountain pass, or someone pulling out a Pachirisu in the finals of a Pokémon Tournament. A unit so evidently underpowered and goofy looking rubbing shoulders with the established big guns in any competitive environment just promises a dazzling display of confidence, skill, and chicanery from its wielder. In the same way that overlooked and off–meta choices exist in other games, I opine that the FF LM Nismo more than deserves to be in Gran Turismo, not in spite of its flaws, but because of.

Nissan GT-R LM Nismo Test Car by Spicy_Nikorasu
#nissan #nismo #gtr

But the cars' lack of competitiveness on either side of the digital divide is not at all to say that the concept of a front–engined LMP that maximises its aerodynamics within the LMP1 rulebook is a flawed one; it only proves that an LMP that routes all its power to the front wheels is a bad idea. Ten years after the LM Nismo's abysmal real–life outing at Le Mans, its digital counterpart would get one hell of a glow–up; Update 1.60 of GT7, released in late June of 2025, reworked the LM Nismo such that its electric motors now drove the rear wheels instead of the fronts. One might question the realism and legitimacy of the LM Nismo sending its electric drive to its rear wheels, as Nissan themselves quote the LongBoi to be FF in what little remains of their official press releases. However, according to the chief engineer of the project in an episode of Jay Leno's Garage, Zack Eakin reveals that the hybrid system was to be capable of driving the rear wheels, and that they were debating at the time whether or not the extra drive lines, effects on mass distribution, and other complications were worth the benefits. Of course, history will now tell us that the hybrid system wound up driving none of the wheels, and so I think the depiction of the LongBoi with AWD is just as fair as an FF LM Nismo. One thing is for certain though: Godzilla is a hell of a lot more competitive in GT7 now that its thousand–plus HP is split between all four wheels instead of just two.

Of course, even when making better use of its rear wheels, the LongBoi still understeers on corner exits; it's still a front–heavy car trying to put over 600HP through the front wheels. It's just that now, we also have to deal with the oversteer in the rear as the front end understeers. The LM Nismo has staggered tyres, but not in the way that one might perhaps expect: the front tyres are 14" wide, and only 9" wide at the rear. In sensible speak, that's 355mm front and 230mm rear, and for some context, the rear tyres are barely wider than those on a production R32 GT-R, which is hardly a stable car with 307HP. That's just an insanely tiny contact patch to be attempting to put down yet another 600+HP with, racing slicks or not. With a 65:35 mass distribution, the front tyres will still wear at a much faster rate than the rears, even with a fully rearward Brake Bias of +5. As a result of all that, the LM Nismo will still severely lag behind the more conventional LMP1s of Toyota and Porsche going into and coming out of corners, having to instead rely on its slightly higher top speed to reel back in its contemporary peers.

However, the thing that drivers of the LM Nismo need watch out the most for isn't understeer nor oversteer. It's... well, I don't know, actually. The LM Nismo has a nasty, NASTY tendency to suddenly lose its rear end over certain corners on certain tracks for reasons nigh inexplicable both on acceleration and deceleration, and this is a common experience had by other COTW participants both on controller and wheel, from the imperfect public roads of Le Mans to the smooth paved tarmac of Spa. I don't know what, if anything else, was changed on the LM Nismo when it went from FF to AWD, but referencing my old GT Sport screenshots, the current LM Nismo has had its spring rates increased by a whole Hertz to 5Hz on both ends, and its alignment figures now look downright unintuitive with 0.45 Toe–Out front and a ridiculous 0.90 Toe–In rear. For some context, both the 919 and TS050's default spring rates are at 4Hz front and rear. This absurd stiffness in the springs results in a Godzilla that assaults its driver relentlessly through just force feedback on a wheel, so much so that the public roads of la Sarthe feel as unruly a gravel track, with the car fighting its driver to be let off the leash that is the steering wheel even on the straights, and that is even with the FFB on my T300RS turned all the way down to the minimum. This incredibly stiff suspension setup, coupled with the front biased downforce and narrow rear tyres I suspect is what makes the LM Nismo's rear end so violently allergic to microscopic bumps and elevation changes at high speed. In other words, the rear end of the LM Nismo simply doesn't have enough grip to cash the cheques the front writes, and for as god–awful as the FF LM Nismo was, I don't ever recall it being this dangerous and unpredictable to drive in either GT Sport or GT7. The right kink before Indianapolis and the uphill section of Eau Rouge are just two examples of where the LongBoi consistently spins out. Because the LongBoi is so inherently unstable at the rear, it's also exceptionally prone to being pit maneuvered if the drivers behind (pretend to) make a mistake.

That all being written, the AWD LongBoi is still a massive improvement over the FF car we had, and the gap in performance is now small enough that BoP can easily close the distance should the powers that be deem it fit to decree so. The de–facto meta cars of Gr.1, the Porsche 919 and Toyota TS050, both share a common weakness in having low top speeds, since their hybrid systems are programmed in stone in these games to recharge the battery using the ICE past a certain speed, giving them super sharp acceleration in low to mid speeds, and then suddenly becoming utterly flaccid past 240km/h (149mph) or when they run out of charge. This makes them incredibly quick and fuel efficient at most tracks in the game where there are corners that necessitate braking for every once in a while, but ironically some of the worst choices to bring to a high–speed track like la Sarthe. The LM Nismo's hybrid system, unlike the battery systems in those cars, is a flywheel system that I don't even want to pretend I know the basics of, but in practice, it charges and discharges much quicker than the Lithium–Ion batteries of the 919 and TS050, and most importantly, doesn't sap engine power at all. This gives the LM Nismo an incredible advantage on long straights, 5–speed gearbox be damned, capable of speeds in excess of 320km/h (193mph) in clean air before having to brake for the Mulsanne chicanes, whereas the 919 and TS050 struggle to crack 310km/h (174mph). To really seal the deal, the LM Nismo I've noticed drinks ever so slightly less fuel than said contemporaries, meaning that it's a high–speed monster with the immediate handling and fuel efficiency of a modern LMP1 to back it up, making it a compelling package in high–speed tracks, especially when high fuel use multipliers are in play. It... will just take a bit of trial and error to know which corners will unsettle its rear end, and then actively drive around that weakness by going extra slowly.

With the LM Nismo now being AWD, it really has become the best of both worlds. It's still the underdog we all loved to root for, and yet at the same time, it's competitive enough now that it just might prove competitive once in a blue moon should the track and BoP favour it. More than that however, the LongBoi is an endlessly fascinating piece of motorsport history and an engineering showpiece even ten years after its outing at Le Mans, and to have it scrubbed off history books and forgotten is just such a crying shame. In lieu of direct recognition from Nissan, Gran Turismo has become a foster museum for the unloved child, and the LM Nismo's story might just continue under PD's care. The GT games have always taken failed racecars and given them a whole new purpose and audience, in so doing giving them a second chance at life, such as Jaguar XJ13, Chaparral 2J, and Toyota TS020. Will the LM Nismo be next in line in becoming a Gran Turismo legend? Time will tell, but I sure as hell hope that it will be the next fondly–remembered failed racecar; with Nissan seemingly hell–bent on scraping it off their history books, we GT players might be on a strict timer to enjoy the LongBoi before another generational leap in consoles and graphics fidelity leaves the car behind for good.

Bonus Ramble:

Yes, I actually re–installed GT Sport just for that second photo in this post. It took 6 hours of installation, not counting the shenanigans of my PS5 somehow refusing to download the last 4 items of the update in Sleep Mode, so it actually took half a damn day in real time. Just a cautionary tale here for anyone who still hasn't uninstalled GTS from their console.

I'm actually pretty surprised that the "Season's Greetings" curation of Scapes didn't make the transition from GTS to GT7. I thought I must've been tripping some exotic balls when I remember we had that exact location on a body of water with artificial lights strewn in with a mountain looming in the background. These Season's Greeting Scapes even have fully animated elements in them, like flowing water and a CUTE CAT!

Also, the Photo Mode menu in GTS seem a bit more responsive than GT7's. What the heck is with all that, Kaz?! Are you really happy with being the god of a world so flawed? Can you really look your parents in their eyes and say they can be proud of you? HUH?!

GT7 W109: Chevrolet Corvette Z06 (C5) '01 & Dodge Viper GTS '02

Growing up with the PS1 era of Gran Turismo games, my childhood heroes have always been the FD RX-7 and the SR II Vipers, both having sleek, curvaceous bodies that somehow spoke not just fluently, but also bewitchingly, in a wordless language to the kid who knew nothing about cars. The Viper in particular was offered with body stripes, making it stand out all the more in a sea of monotonous cars in an era before visual customisation featured in racing games. In comparison, the boxy, somewhat derpy looking C4 Corvettes just never registered in my head, not to mention the C4s were just plasticky food for the Vipers on the track, stock for stock.

Of course, when Chevrolet unleashed the C5 Corvette onto the world in 1997, the playing field looked much more even. After the sacrilege of having a Lotus–built V8 carry the Corvette's legacy in the flagship C4 ZR-1, the C5 Corvettes would all proudly bear an engine that would soon become an instant classic synonymous with General Motors: the LS engine. Wrapping around the compact (by American standards...) 5.7L LS6 NA V8 engine of the Z06 was a sleek and curvaceous body that bore less resemblence to the C4 it succeeded and more with the FD RX-7, and dare I say it, the American car with the hulking V8 engine also drove quite like my corner–craving childhood hero as well.

Fine I'll do it myself by XSquareStickIt
#barbie #toystory3 #movie
Since SPD can't read the damn room by Spicy_Nikorasu
#lemans #c5r #commemorative

All that is to say, with GT7 Update 1.59 adding in the long–awaited and sorely missed C5 Z06, the SR II Viper gets a new playmate, and I get to be a kid again.

Of the two, the Viper is more of a known quantity; we've had SR II Vipers since Gran Turismo 1, and this particular 2002 GTS model has been with the series almost like a mascot since Gran Turismo 5. I've always liked Vipers because they've always just seemed like someone materialised a cartoon character in real life, which is perhaps why it's so effortlessly charismatic to the 8–year old kid inside every man. It's powerful, brash, dangerous, unwieldy, demands respect, and takes no BS from anyone—especially its own driver, and as is the case with all good character design, one could glean its characteristics just from laying eyes on it. Stability control? TCS? HA!, try begging for ABS for a start. Yet, it also seems to have a nonchalance about it that is either confidence in its own abilities, self–awareness that conveys it shouldn't be taken seriously, or a paradoxical mix of both. It's heavy, soft, and numb in the corners. It understeers on corner entry and exit, and it slithers and writhes about mid–corner as though trying to bite an omnipresent itch somewhere along its body. And for a car this softly–sprung, it really doesn't like kerbs, liable to leap into the air and pounce onto an unsuspecting trackside barrier if it doesn't find the kerbs to its taste. Getting a Viper round a track quickly is less about surgically making use of every millimetre of the track as it is simply keeping the snake straight and on the paved surface, where it is most happy and its driver is the most safe. Even then, the Viper is not an easy pet to satiate, as its 8.0L V10 prefers to be short shifted, even with its low 6,500rpm rev limit. Of course, with an engine so low–revving and comically abysmal specific output figures, the real magic of the Viper's engine is in the sheer torque it has throughout the rev range; by the time I realise I'm in the wrong gear coming out of a corner, it has already become the correct gear. In all, the Viper is a massively quick car by early 2000s standards, but it just never makes me feel like I want—or even should—push it hard. It's one of those cars where you'll automatically be doing well simply by not getting into an accident.

The bowtie wearing C5 on the other hand, is much more business minded. Strait–laced, focused, pinned down, and scarily efficient with its movements, the Z06 exudes such a no–nonsense feel when behind the wheel, almost as if it were fighting to change the perception of American sports cars, or perhaps fighting to be the image of America's sports cars for the first time in Corvette history, being the first generation of Corvettes penned in a toxic world where Vipers roam free on American streets. With a wide, low stance and a lightweight body that looks crafted to rend air with surgical precision and an unhealthy vendetta, the C5's sleek silhouette is a statement of ill intent to dispose of corners with as little fuss and as quickly as possible. Getting out of the Viper and straight into the C5, the Z06 just feels so effortless and razor sharp on turn–in that it's just downright uncanny for an American car of its time, not to mention it has impressive stopping power as well. One doesn't get much in the... minimalistic interior of the C5, but they do have a tachometer that reads up to 7,000rpm, and the Naturally–Aspirated 5.7L LS6 engine very much enforces the mindset of, "I paid for the whole tachometer; Imma use the whole tachometer". Quite like a certain childhood hero of mine, actually!

But of course, the C5 is still a Corvette at the end of the day, meaning it will violently bite off heads if proper respect and care is not exercised when driving it, even if it is a corner craving machine not just in the context of this comparison, but as a whole. Being a 2001 model, we GT7 players just miss out on the 2002 update to the Z06 that bumped its power from 384HP to 405HP (287kW to 302kW), but even then, I've found our slightly less powerful Z06 to be a bit snappy on corner exits on power. Good thing the C5 'Vettes all come standard with Traction Control, then! The thing that irritated me the most when driving the C5 however, is that it seems to have gear ratios from three completely different cars mashed into one gearbox: the first three gears look to have come straight from a top fuel dragster, 4th and 5th being on an island by themselves, and then 6th is so tall and disconnected from everything else that it might as well be its own planet. The car launches strongly with short and close 1st to 3rd gear shifts, but shifting to fourth drops the revs so much that it just drains all life from the car and my soul from my body each time I have to make that shift. At the risk of sounding corny, it really disrupts any flow state I may have on a drive. It'd sure be a shame if 3rd and 4th were the most commonly used gears around most tracks, huh? That big dropoff in revs on upshifts also means that the driver has to wait longer before downshifting from 4th to 3rd under braking, and I'm ashamed to say that I'd probably have blown up a few LS6 engines on downshifts had engine damage been simulated in GT7. I suspect the reason why there's such a big gap from 3rd to 4th is to allow the driver to launch the car in 1st and then skip–shift to 4th during daily driving, but it's such a shame that the performance–oriented Z06 has to be saddled with this BS as well.

For how drastically differently these two proud American beasts go about their business, a stopwatch actually has an incredibly difficult time telling the two apart; the cars were within 2 tenths of a second from each other around Road Atlanta in my clumsy hands, and with all their specs crunched, the 2001 Z06 measures in at 562.97PP as of v1.61, which is within hair–splitting range from the 2002 Viper GTS that comes up at 561.26PP. In a racing scenario however, it's always easier to overtake on a straight than in the corners, and with GT7's track list consisting mostly of wide open racetracks with sizable straights, the Viper is just the faster car for the pragmatic in most scenarios when stock, though I think the C5 would make for a better tuning base with its lower, wider body.

But to be pragmatic about toys I think is completely missing the point. I love and enjoy both, and to ask me to choose between Corvette and Viper is akin to asking me if I'm a bra or panties guy; they're both sexy as hell, and to miss out on one with the other is to miss out on life. A limp dick conclusion from me for sure, but I'm too busy having fun with them both to care. I'm simply glad that they both exist and that we have them in Gran Turismo 7.

GT7 W120: Chevrolet Corvette ZR1 (C7) '19

The seventh–generation Corvette, the C7, famously heralded the end of a formula that had proved for over six decades to be almost as sacred to Americans as the second amendment. In 2018, the last of the front–engined Corvettes rolled off dealership floors, and among them were a select few that promised perhaps to represent the absolute ceiling of performance that modern engineering can squeeze into an FR road car. The C7 ZR1 then, seems almost as if GM's way of pre–emptively saying to critics of the RMR C8 Corvette, "Tell us you can comfortably handle the C7 ZR1, then we'll listen to your whining and bitching about the layout switch". In other words, the C7 ZR1—at least to me—appears to be almost insane by design.

While it's true that the C7 ZR1's ludicrously widened body sprouts cartoonish aero and houses a 754HP powerplant, it's not any of those—nor the carbon ceramic brakes or super sticky Sports Medium tyres—that first raised alarms in my head when I looked at the spec sheets. Rather, it's the unexpectedly high ride height of the aero–wearing modern performance car that shocked me: 127mm (5in) front and 132mm (5.2in) rear. Out on the track, my worries were well–founded; the C7 ZR1 was extremely lairy in the corners, with a lot more body movement than I had been intially expected and prefer. So much so in fact, that I had strongly suspected the C7 ZR1 to be represented in–game in a drive mode less than its most aggressive akin to the 2017 Ford GT. But from what I can tell, only the most aggressive Track Mode gives us the linear tachometer we see in the game. In other words, the C7 ZR1 is behaving exactly as intended, which is to say, "batshit insane".

What that all translates to is, perhaps fittingly, a driving experience that feels properly old school in spite of its bevy of clever electronic wizardry working under the hood to keep the bowtie adorned missile out of the walls. The car has gobs of grip, both mechanical and aerodynamic, but the driver has to work the car to experience any of it, almost as if the driver has to prove themselves to their steed. One has to know which corner of the car is laden and which isn't, manage the weight transfer of a 1,615kg (3,560lbs) body at speed when muddled with downforce, trail brake with finesse, and be extremely aware of the fact that off–neutral braking will severely elongate stopping distances, to say nothing of the dexterity required of one's toes to massage the landmine of a right pedal without setting it off, even with TCS active. In a sense, it feels very "alive", and it forges a relationship of give and take with its driver as opposed to the more modern and isolating supercars that see it fit to deny its driver of any fun and involvement in the name of keeping them safe (see: C8 Corvette Stingray). If the C7 ZR1's contemporary peers were to be likened to an LMP1 hybrid racer, then the C7 feels like it's a Group C monster in comparison: fast and scary as all hell, but just undeniably and nigh inexplicably badass all the same, with an air of purity and simplicity around it that is just so damn alluring to weird folk like me. In short, it is exactly everything I want from the sendoff model of the ultimate "traditional" Corvette.

But is the C7 ZR1 truly the limit of what an FR platform can handle? Judging by my (lack of) chemistry with the car, I was initially tempted to say so. The C6 ZR1 is much more my speed, literally and stylistically, being so much easier to drive, so that's always my bowtie of choice. However, the AMG GT Black is just so much easier to drive than the C7 ZR1 while offering comparable performance, so maybe the Corvette could've stayed FR if GM had figured out the black magic employed by Mercedes. To me, the Corvette's switch from FR to MR always seemed aimed more at sanctioned motorsports than production cars. Maybe if more people could sample the C8.R, even if only in a video game, then the C8 might be more well–liked.

Still, for the C7 ZR1 to even be in the same conversation as much more expensive exotics like the AMG Black and Ford GT while itself only costing 134k Credits is a feat of its own, and damned if it isn't going to sound great and be a lot of fun, win, lose, or draw.

GT7 W116: BMW Z4 3.0i '03

I've said a few times by now that my favourite sports cars are those that have around 200–250HP and weigh about 1,100–1,300kg. In plain English, I like sports cars in which their power doesn't completely dominate the experience, and are light enough to really chuck around and be a hooligan with. And by virtue of its specs alone, the BMW Z4 3.0i '03, with its 227HP and 1,290kg (2,844lbs), is already a good sports car in my book.

Whatsapp Car by Malel2104
#meme #whatsapp #drip

Indeed, the Beamer's has a very keen front end on turn–in, and its brakes are nothing short of phenomenal. It even has a 50:50 weight distribution! However, that's sadly where the good news end, as the rest of the car simply isn't as focused on sportiness as comparable rivals, and in the context of a sandbox video game, that makes the Z4 extremely hard to justify over its stiff and well–established competition.

The gearing is the most immediate thing that jumps out; despite only having to spread its modest 170kW across an ample six gears, the gear ratios are all so incredibly wide apart for some unfathomable reason. In our weekly races, there have been times my Z4 lined up alongside another car on corner exit, keeping more or less level with them until I make an upshift in the Z4, causing it to tumble away like sawn logs. These wide ratios also make many corner exits awkward, as it often feels like there's just no correct gear to be in; 2nd gear just causes wheelspin, and third is just gutless at low speeds. Despite having six forward gears, the only time I've ever grabbed fifth in the Z4 was down Bathurst's Conrod Straight, and it just feels like such a waste of a six speed box.

The suspension is also very soft for a sports car, and a great deal of care has to be taken to get it to bite into corners and to keep the rear end from fishtailing out of turns. And when the car does let go, it does so very suddenly, almost as if it were hitting the ends of its suspension travel even with just Comfort Soft tyres. Without the right pedal, it's also always the front tyres that let go first, instead of a more balanced approach to its limits. It's paradoxically not as lively nor easy to control as the much more focused sports cars that I much prefer over the Z4.

On its own, the Z4 is a pretty good sports car. It's just that, when it's competing against a field of my personal favourite cars like the 901 Carrera RS 2.7, Clio V6, S15 Silvia, and GR86, I hold it to much higher standards than most other reviews, and therefore being "pretty good" just isn't nearly good enough to sway me. The AP1 S2000 deserves special mention here as the most apples to apples comparison, being a late 90s/early 2000s open top FR sports car on Comfort Soft tyres by default. The S2K, despite being the wildest handling 1999 model, was just so much easier to control and play around with in the corners, and because of its close ratios, it devours the Z4 on the straights too. The kicker is that the S2K actually undercuts the Z4's PP rating by a microscopic amount stock for stock. In a racing game where everyday comfort and the refinement of a premium brand is completely lost and doesn't matter, there's simply no reason whatsoever to pick the Z4 unless one is already partial to it prior.

I suppose the argument can be made that, of the open–top cars in this performance range readily available in Brand Central, the Z4 is a unique proposition. Sampling the Z4 3.0i as–is just makes me wish we got the Z4M instead; I recall really liking that car in GT6. The base Z4 as we get it isn't as much BMW bringing a knife to a gunfight, but it is a bit like bringing a pistol to a machine gun massacre.

I call this livery, "The Duality of (the) Man (Called SPD):

GT7 Wcatch up: Gallardo, EF Civic, KS13

Time for some (relatively) quick catch up reviews!

Lamborghini Gallardo LP 560-4 '08

It's not just Jay that has fond memories of the Lamborghini Gallardo; I do too. In the GT6 days some ten years ago, I had taken a fancy to the Gallardo for its ideal rear midship AWD layout, and its understated styling relative to its bigger brother, the Murciélago, appealed to me more. When bathed in the FD RX-7's dark and mystifying Montego Blue Mica paint, it really did seem the perfect modern supercar for me. I even tuned one and raced it at the Nordschleife against a friend's 458, which went... well.

Unfortunately, those good memories only served as whiplash when I sampled the same car again in Gran Turismo 7, this time completely stock, which meant taking by its horns all of its 1,410kg (3,108lbs) and 552HP (412kW) with only Sports Hard gloves. To say that all Lamborghinis in the game with a model year after the 1980 understeer like crazy is like saying Enzo Ferrari was a bit of a dick, and the Gallardo continues that now decades–old tradition by driving as though every track marshal on the outside of each turn on the track is waving a red flag at it. One would hope that having such a debilitating amount of understeer baked into the car would at the very least mean that the car is idiot proof, but the Gallardo would sooner grow horns out its anus than to actually do as its driver wishes; stab at either pedal too hard when the Gallardo is too off neutral, and the raging bull stops using its head and instead rams into innocents fatass–first. And yet, despite my disastrous experience trying to drive it that way, that seems to be precisely how the Gallardo wants to be treated, judging from what I observe in replays from my peers with better chemistry with the Gallardo than I; it demands to be yanked hard into a corner with sudden wheel and pedal inputs rather than gently caressed with trail braking, and I just can't bring myself to do that to a car. Try to trail brake it, and the steering wheel just goes numb while the tyres screech away fruitlessly, almost as if the raging bull aquaplaned on its own piss on an otherwise dry road. It genuinely feels to me as though whoever was in charge of setting up the suspension on the Gallardo took a look at the RM–AWD layout and thought, "eh whatever, the car will sort itself out", and simply didn't bother. There are simply no words that come to mind to describe the Gallardo other than clumsy... and fast.

Begrudgingly, I will have to concede the fact that, even with its BS handling, there is simply no room at all to debate just how bloody quick the Gallardo is in relation to its peers. It proved untouchable in the Single–Player Challenge of the week, which was a time trial around Sardegna B pitting stock Gallardos against similarly stock 458s and MP4s. Of the four participants, every single one of them set their fastest laps in the Gallardo, and in the lobby races with a PP cap set to 10PP higher over the stock Gallardo's, the only car that could show up the Gallardo was... the Murciélago. Assuming neither Lambo got into too big of a crash, that is.

Not that I'm going to try it myself, but according to experienced tuner and YouTuber Fossil Fueled, the Gallardo retains much of its same murderous tendency and blistering speed when maxed out with tuning parts. To borrow a few pertinent quotes from his video, "(The Gallardo) doesn't need an engine swap to be a hateful swine", and "it's still a very tricky car to get right, and it's still very capable of murdering you". Despite this, his Gallardo sits a lofty third in his "Taming A Monster" series leaderboard at the time of writing, behind only the utterly sinful Cayman GT4 swap and a freaking GT-R LM Nismo LMP1 prototype racecar. There's just no denying that the Gallardo is fast, stock or tuned, and the only thing that might be quicker than it is how quickly I came to hate it. It boggles my mind that something this clumsy and moody can be this stupidly fast.

Honda Civic Si Extra (EF) '87

I wrote in my Peugeot 205 GTI review that I value lightness and simplicity in a sports car, especially so when said sports car is Front–Wheel–Drive. The 1987 Honda Civic Si Extra (EF) then, despite saying "yes" to extras in its name, looks to one–up the utterly brilliant 205 in the simplicity department by having absolutely zero sporting intentions whatsoever, serving as extremely rare context in this game for family cars in the 80s so that we may better appreciate the special, sporty cars. This EF Civic isn't a hotted up GTI with VTEC or anything. It's just... a cheap city appliance with looks so flat and boxy that it sometimes looks as though an AI upscaled PS2 model ported over to GT7.

1988 JTC N.16 by Tenki-33
#jtc #motul #mugen

And yet, so many an aspirational racer has driven the EF Civic in anger, punks and professionals alike. Is that to say then, that the EF Civic has the makings of a potent pocket rocket slumbering somewhere within that unassuming silhouette? Despite not ostensibly trying to appeal to hot blooded racers, the EF Civic's compact body and lightness are by themselves what make the EF such a potent package, giving it such a direct, straightforward drive that simply goes where the driver points it with ample communication despite its light steering feel, all while offering minimal drama or protest. The 1.6L NA engine of course, just begs to be revved out, and even back in the eighties, the D series engine has already been singing its now–classic hit tunes. It's just the sort of car that makes someone who loves the act of driving smile just from taking one corner... as long as they aren't in too much of a hurry, that is.

As a family car first, the EF's suspension is a fair bit cushier than that of the sporty 205's we sampled not too long ago. While understandable for an old, cheap city car, that softness in the suspension does unfortunately highlight the EF's lack of a limited slip differential more when driven hard out of a turn. That makes the tight turns of smaller, shorter circuits that in theory ought to be a better fit for these low powered city cars a bit of a chore, as 2nd gear will bounce off the limiter incessantly with the inside wheel spinning uselessly, but shifting up to 3rd gear will bog the NA engine that much prefers being kept near its 7,500rpm limit. This issue is only compounded all the more in low grip scenarios, such as in the wet or on loose surfaces, with cars near its PP range pulling away from it out of corners without remorse. Unfortunately, I think we're beginning to see a trend in COTW where FF cars with open diffs get rated unfairly highly by the PP system, often resulting in these open diff FF cars getting matched up against faster machinery that they realistically have no chance of keeping up with, with the rear drive AE86 twins being prime examples.

That all being written, in a one–make race scenario or even solo driving, I still enjoyed the EF Civic thoroughly. I might even have been smitten by the car if not for the unfortunate fact that we've sampled the 205 GTI not too long ago, and as is probably evident by now, I just can't get the GTI out of my head all week, with the Peugeot becoming a benchmark of sorts for 80s hatchbacks. The lighter, tighter GTI just drives that much better in stock form in a racing game. The fact that this unassuming city appliance is even in the same conversation as the hotted up 205 GTI is an amazing feat in itself, and unlike the 205, the EF has an option for an engine swap, giving tuners a reason to choose the Kanjo Cruiser over the Plucky Pug. To me personally, I think both cars are already brilliant as they are, and don't want to mess with them. They're both Sleepers.

Gosh, why do I have this awful tendency to rip on cars that are deeply loved by the regulars who nominated them? Time to combo break that!

Nissan Silvia K's Dia Selection (S13) '90

The Nissan Silvia S13 may have a bit of a reputation for being a "date car"; something that's almost all show and very little go. However, with the addition of a turbo on the top of the line K's grade, the 1990 Nissan Silvia K's Dia Selection (S13) goes from gutless to grandiose, poser to performer. So much so in fact, I'm absolutely smitten silly by it!

ToLOVEru darkness S13 SILVIA 闇 by FY_ShiiNa_417
#anime #jdm #drift
Varietta by Autavia
#blue #autech #convertible

I was tempted to say that the S13 K's drives like a Miata that has the extremely well–balanced torque curve of the twin–turbo RX-7, along with some of the latter's oomph. However, that'd be a bit disingenuous, because the K's behaves incredibly docile even when pushed hard in a racing scenario despite packing more power than the NA Miata—174PS (128kW) @ 6,500rpm and 225.5N·m (166.3lbf · ft) from a mere 4,000rpm. While the NA Miata trips over its own shadow and dies when pushed hard in this game, the KS13 remains calm, composed, communicative, and extremely neutral when pushed. That is to say, in a racing game experienced through the poor man's pancake mode without the wind in my hair, the KS13 is just a strictly better Miata, and I'm writing this as a Mazda fanboy.

If having an extremely well–rounded torque curve and an actually functional suspension setup weren't enough to sell you on the car, the K's also has extremely short and close gearing. It's surprising—and refreshing—to drive a car that makes full use of its gears on the track, with fifth gear topping out at around 225km/h (140mph), which the driver will see often near the end of some of the longer straights in the game. Its peers on the other hand, twindle about in tall overdrive gears putting on a show of trying to force their way through the air with their boxy, bulky commuter car bodies common in this PP range. But of course, the more practical advantage to having low and close gear ratios is the ability to bust out a slide and hold it, which the K's is more than capable of despite its docile demeanour when driven smoothly. That is to say, the driver simply has to be rough with their inputs to the car to get it sideways, and the K's will happily oblige both on corner entries and exits. It is just the PERFECT car to introduce a new driver to both the strengths and weaknesses of an FR platform, and I would love to see more games lean in on that with their career progression!

The only nitpick I have with the K's is that its stock 195/60R15 tyres have a bit too much flex in them, with the car becoming a bit vague when I leaned really hard on it in corners. That said, it's just a nitpick, and I was already in love with the car despite that small flaw. But of course, said small nitpick also has a very simple fix—one that persists through BoP—upsizing the wheel diameter. When I upsized from the stock 15–inch rollers to 16–inch wheels, it was like finding out King Charming had the exact same kinks and fetishes I have, and at that precise moment, I knew I wanted it and needed it in my life for the rest of my life!

Girl on RX8's anime car: Dare, ano bakayarou?

The S13 may appear to be a date car to many, but for me, I can't wait to talk about marriage with it.

Greening Auto Company Maverick

Obe–Wan's review of the GAC Maverick:

My review of the GAC Maverick:

Image Source: Instagram (Bad language warning)

GT7 W108: Suzuki Cappuccino (EA11R) '91

Automaker Suzuki might not look like it has much of a presence in racing games, often being represented by cheap, cheerful, but ultimately unassuming Kei cars like the Alto and Carry. However, the Shizuoka–based brand has had quite the notorious reputation specifically in the Gran Turismo series since its debut in the second game, thanks to the presence of "auto win" cars like the Escudo and GSX-R/4 dominating the single–player campaign and online lobbies respectively. With the Escudo being a nigh–useless joke in GT7 and the GSX-R/4 nowhere to be seen, the 1991 EA11R Cappuccino has assumed and compressed both their roles in a Kei–sized package, essentially embodying everything Suzuki in Gran Turismo 7.

Cappuccino '91 by kerokero2417
(no tags)
Mini Viper by nao-2884050
(no tags)

The first things that meets the eye of course, are the unassuming parts of the seemingly whimsical FR convertible: it's tiny Kei car specs. At 63PS (46kW), it's just shy of the self–imposed limit on Kei car max output, and while its 700kg (1,543lbs) kerb mass is incredibly light, we expect that of Kei cars. At 304.76PP stock (v1.59), it's also rated very similarly to its Kei peers like the Honda Beat and even the 6–speed midship S660. So far, so very ho–hum. But should you dare overlook the Cappuccino just because of what its numbers suggest, you might be in for a very rude awakening when it comes time to wake up and smell the coffee.

You see, the monsterous part about the Cappuccino is in how it completely belies and undercuts its own specs and rating numbers to bring absurd performance into classes where it absolutely has no business belonging in. The turbocharged 3–Cylinder of the Cappuccino is set up to give the most buzz in the mid–range, with peak torque of 85.2N·m (62.8lbf · ft) served from as early as 4,000rpm, with peak power following soon after at 6,5. Those might seem reasonable peaks for a normal engine, but the F6A engine in the pre–facelift Capp has its rev limit firmly in sport bike range of 9k! I suspect the reason why Suzuki chose to brew the Cappuccino this way is to give it the most performance possible while remaining under the 64PS limit for Kei cars, giving it unhealthy levels of boost in the low and mid range before sharply toning down the shots when the revs start to factor more into the power equation, resulting in an almost comical level of caffeine crash past 7k. The end result is that the Cappuccino's 63PS feels almost like that of an EV's, with its strong, sustained torque pulling much harder than the 64PS of its naturally aspirated peers that have to rev higher to find their fleeting power. On corner exits at mid revs, the turbo FR would dump even the RMR Beat, and on high–speed tracks, the low drag of the Kei car would even let it humiliate full–sized cars with full–sized power, such as the Demio and Jimny Sierra. The Cappuccino was so busted in fact, that we've had to raise the PP cap of our weekly lobbies from +10PP over the featured car to +40PP, just to find close competition for the Capp!

チキンラーメン　chicken ramen by bunkashiyouze
#japan #suzuki #anime

One might not presume a 63PS FR Kei car to be much trouble to drive even when hustled, but the Capp does demand of its driver to be awake and not take it for granted. Man, if only there was some readily available drink that can help with that, huh? The reason for the slight trickiness of hustling the Cappuccino is that its suspension setup is really rather soft, and worryingly, they seem to have very little travel for said softness, meaning that the car seems to reach the ends of its suspension travel quickly when the driver leans on it in the corners, resulting in a very sudden and unexpected loss of grip when the tyres should be gripping the most in theory. Because of the short spring travel, hitting kerbs when the car is too off–neutral can spill hot coffee all over the track as well. It's in dire need of much firmer dampers than it comes with stock, and luckily, we can easily fix that in GT7.

I'm sure it doesn't fall onto me to break this news to anyone, but the Cappuccino becomes even more of a giant slaying monster when upgraded. Because of the esoteric kinks of GT7's PP system, many of the most important upgrades for a tuner car—such as the custom gearboxes, body rigidity increase, and even Mass Reduction Stage 2 for some reason—actually drops its PP rating of the Cappuccino instead of raising it. Throw the entire parts catalogue of Understeer, GT Auto, and the Zandatsu–ed heart of an FD RX-7 at it, and you end up with a car that would genuinely struggle to break 600PP, yet has lower mass and higher top speed than even an LMP1. For some context as to the kinds of speed one should normally expect of 600PP as of v1.59, the Jaguar XJ220 is rated at 599.59PP completely stock. The Cappuccino, weighing half that and packing even more power on aftermarket suspension, diff, gearbox, and RACING SOFT tyres, undercuts that!

Of course, with its short wheelbase, extremely limited aero and tyres way too narrow, a maxed out Cappuccino is a bloody nightmare to drive. The speeds it can achieve completely overwhelm the tiny tyres, modest aero, and the best brakes that would fit under the 13–inch wheels its owner can downsize to. It completely warped my sense of speed and distance when I drove it. But just like the Escudo of GT2, it's so bloody overpowered that one can drive like dog diarrhea and still reasonably expect to win by quite some margin. At the infamous Tokyo credit grind race, I spun out lap 1 and still lapped the entire field sans Miyazono's Amemiya FD with a one–stop run, hitting 370km/h (230mph) on the home straight. As such, you can also reasonably expect lobby hosts to kick you should you rock up to a PP lobby in a Brappuccino. The EA11R then, is truly the heir to Suzuki and carries on its tradition of terrorising and breaking the game wide apart. It might well be the most traditional part of Gran Turismo 7 bar none.

Racer and I crossed the line on Tuesday's lobby at the exact same time down to the thousandth of a second! Too bad we were fighting for second last instead of the win!

GT7 W107: Ferrari 308 GTB '75

It's no secret that I am really not a fan of Ferrari, as for over the last five years of me writing for Car of the Week, I haven't sampled a single car from the marque—road or race—that I've found to be even remotely tolerable to drive. The Ferrari 308 GTB '75 however, is perhaps the Ferrari with the best chance of winning me over, simply because it exists within a narrow performance bracket that I enjoy the most: lightweight sports cars that are fast enough to get into trouble, yet aren't so powerful that they dominate the experience and dull the handling. Cars around this performance level sit at around 475–500PP, populated by all–time greats like the 901 Carrera 2.7, E30 M3 SE, S2000, and GR86. A tiny RMR sports car with a songstress of a NA V8 engine, four wheel disc brakes, and a 5–speed stick shift in this category? Sounds absolutely salivating a prospect to me, even if it bears the usual stench of manure that comes with the prancing horse logo.

Magnum P.I by Beellzabozo
#magnum #308gts #magnumpi

Of course, being one of the oldest cars in the short list of examples I just gave, the 308 GTB on its bias ply Comfort Medium tyres is by far the most difficult car to drive among that esteemed company, especially when one takes into consideration that, unlike the vast majority of RMR cars, the GTB has a square tyre setup: identically sized 205/70VR14 rubber serve as horseshoes at all four corners. The suspension is much too soft for hard driving, and its brakes do feel a bit wanting even at this modest performance level. To justify its factory–fresh 474.85PP (v1.58) that lets it dance with the aforementioned cars then, the GTB has utterly bonkers straight line acceleration that would let it keep pace with much younger sports cars like the 993 RS CS and E46 M3 as long as the roads don't twist or meander. So far, so expected then: here's a Ferrari that quotes its completely useless dry mass stat and has way too much power for its suspension, brakes, and tyres to handle.

And yet, I'd be lying if I said I didn't have fun racing against my peers on Saturday, even if they for the most part nope–d out of the GTB and into easier and faster machinery. The 308 may be an extremely demanding car to drive, but that's not at all to say that it's unreasonable or unfair. Give it what it asks for—the driver's deepest respect and their undivided attention—and it richly rewards in a deeply engaging, playful drive, one so engrossing that, when I really got into the groove of it during free practice, I had completely forgotten that I had needed to start the race as the lobby host! As barbaric as it is to say, there's a deeply satisfying joy when an extremely difficult car finally clicks in my head, and I sail past my peers fumbling their cars facing the wrong direction on the track. It makes me feel like a kid who has figured out the trick to a puzzle before anybody else, and the cruel inner kid in me will always get smug about that.

Said trick to the puzzle is Countersteering Assist, which I've set to Strong for every tarmac race on Saturday. CSA does dull the initial turn–in of the car quite severely, but the benefit of CSA is that it allows the 308 GTB to drive as I had described in the previous paragraph: like a moody, vindictive, demanding, and sometimes rewarding old Italian classic car that we petrolheads as a whole are so weirdly tolerant of and smitten by. Without CSA, the 308 GTB is COMPLETELY UNDRIVABLE. On corner exits, it behaves as if its dry–sump V8 spits burning oil onto its toilet roll rear tyres the moment there's any lateral g on power; it just snaps instantly without warning or recourse, with roll and yaw movements so severe that the car is simply beyond saving most of the time. The ironic thing about the GTB is that, as noted by Jay, it actually drives really pleasantly on dirt, so much so that I find it perfectly happy on loose surfaces without CSA.

I want to preface what I'm about to write by making clear that this is pure speculation on my part, but this disparity in road and dirt driving brings to my mind a phenomenom brought up by Steve Marvin when he was being interviewed by evo about the Phase 1 Clio V6: lateral force–induced toe out. Upon loading up the rear tyres, the force of the outer rear wheel would bend the suspension and throw off the wheel alignment, resulting in catastrophic instability. Maybe the reason why the GTB was so nice on dirt was because the tyres weren't gripping the road hard enough to really bend the suspension that much. Unfortunately, that snappy oversteer on power seems hard–baked into the car in GT7; I've tried rudimentary fixes such as tinkering with aftermarket suspensions, differentials, and stickier tyres, all to no avail. It NEEDS CSA to simply be a tricky car to drive. Without it, the 308 is just Going To sBinalla, and as such, is a Guaranteed Total Beater, and even someone who detests the brand as much as me finds that just a bit of a pity.

UPDATE 1.59: The latest update seems to have calmed down the 308 quite a fair bit, to the point where CSA is just purely a bane. It still exhibits that weird sudden snapping on power, but it seems to happen much later and somewhat slower now, translating to a half–second faster lap time around Laguna Seca. As it stands in v1.59, the 308 GTB is the first Ferrari I find tolerable... barely.