My neck hurts, so I’ll also be sending Nissan a bill to ensure that I am treated by expert masseurs in ensuring my spine has not encountered alignment issues from the brutal centrifugal forces at work at every roundabout, shifting the very fabric of my tissue, muscle and sinew to such an extent, I feel like a Hellraiser demon with all exposed internals etc.

Furthermore, it was a gross inappropriate expectation to have me spending more time looking at my rear view mirror than out of my windscreen in anticipation of the impending arrest and subsequent media circus frenzy that would no doubt have escalated from having turned myself into the first road user to ever discover time travel from a chance encounter during some unholy speed and g-force combination to provide some until now undiscovered mathematical equation. This irregular impact of stress upon myself should not go unnoticed.

I have spent the past three, glorious days in a 2011 Nissan GTR. Most of you know the drill by now. What’s different? More power, up to 523BHP, bigger brakes, better aero (less drag better MPG) and new wheels. See here for a complete list of changes. 2011 GT-R – THE BEST GETS BETTER – GT-R Register – Official Nissan Skyline and GTR Owners Club forum

Quite simply put, this is an astonishingly fast and competent car. I can end the review right now by saying, if what you want is the quickest point to point car in the universe, then look no further. To compound matters by pricing it under £70k does nothing other than send super car owners into fits of apoplexy.

What makes it so devastatingly quick is beyond my comprehension. My Lamborghini LP560, with 550 BHP and less weight, is not this quick. Nor is it so damn well equipped, with every luxury conceivable thrown into the mix. Sat nav, dual zone climate control, cruise, bluetooth, iphone integration, heated leather seats – and four seats with a boot.

It makes a compelling argument against the supercar establishment. Certainly, in pure performance figures, if you remove the Nissan name, you have a car that can destroy all but the most functional track devices on road and off. So why do we still aspire to the illogical, impracticalities of super car ownership when the GTR gives us more than we’ll ever need? We’ll come back to this later. It’s a conundrum, make no mistake.

Let’s talk about the performance of this car.

Every time I left the traffic lights, I became more and more paranoid that I’d just inadvertently launched before the lights had turned green again as I’d look in my mirror and see that I was over 100m down the road and the other motorists were still static at the lights.

Forget first gear. Just….forget it. It doesn’t ever hang around long enough for you to notice it actually exists. But the speed and efficiency with which it engages second and continues a relentless, tireless, committed and stubborn urge, sucking up small children and causing tornados in its wake is utterly frightening. One cannot sympathise with the constant Baby Veyron comparisons, it really is a monster.

I have never driven a car so utterly effortless in its devastating capacity to lunch every other car on the road. It is a force of benign nature that offers relentless levels of competence and aptitude to such extents that one cannot help but feel a little complacent about its performance. It’s so easy to do.

I still begrudge Nissan for not making the car sound a little more menacing. Aurally, it’s up there with Dyson. But then that’s the car summed up. It’s the most functionally competent car I’ve ever driven. Its goal was to smash the ‘Ring title and make a car that strikes fear into the hearts of the establishment. And it has done this, repeatedly. It has literally done everything it set out to do.

And that ferocious urge doesn’t get tired, ever. Any gear, any revs, punch it. Motorway slip roads become moments of pure, red tinged frenzy with slight banks to roads causing periods of light speed comedy. But as your confidence develops, so do the accumulating speeds. It is an exercise in restraint, as any nonchalance surely will lead to some dramatic finale.

Ride around town and things are a little different. The damping, though not perfect, does a better job of absorbing the harshness of city commutes. It’s got good ground clearance too, avoiding any damage from speed bumps throughout London. This compounds a scary conclusion in that the faster you go, the better the car becomes, but the threshold of this car is so high, your buffer for mistakes equally become thinner.

Rear seats are token, too. Strangely enough, you can fit two small adults in there but not any children. The short base of the seats mean their feet don’t quite drop into the gap, but instead end up pushing up against the front seats.

I still am quite confused with the interior of the GTR. At first impression, it appears that it has been designed by at least half a dozen people, each person given a responsibility for each section. It doesn’t seem to work in any form of unity, lacking the cohesion necessary to make an occasion for the driver. But spend a few hours here and all of a sudden it makes sense. Bar the electric windows, everything is within the reach of the driver. It’s quite a usable cockpit. And the sat nav is amongst the best I’ve ever used.

A combination of dozens of different screens, the unit shifts intelligently from one display to another, switching clever instructions as it sees fit. Combined with the 3D landmarks, it’s a fast, effective system which was a joy to use. iPhone integration was amazing also. With my unit plugged in, I had my phone paired through bluetooth and my playlists up on the touchscreen unit within seconds. A classy well done to Nissan for that, thoroughly good job.

Sunday morning, 7am and I’m driving up to meet friends in supercars. I’m in a great environment, the R35, and strictly speaking I don’t know if I’d rather be in anything else right now. It’s comfortable, surreally quick and has all the mod cons you’d want.

This time of morning allows for swift progress and liberties to be taken. Mostly, shifting down is unnecessary as the car will swallow tarmac, regardless of gear, in full automatic. Arriving shortly after at our meeting point, the fast moving convoy is in progress after picking up more cars along the way.

By the time we arrive at our first petrol station, we’ve got 4 Lamborghini’s, a 458 Italia, a Zonda F, a Mercedes AMG CLK63 Black and a Porsche GT3RS. Despite the obvious performance adequacy (the GTR is more than a match for all these cars in real terms), I am completely invisible. Especially when we get to our final destination where we’ve picked up another Zonda, an F50, a Murcielago SV, Carerra GT and a host of other supercars.

Whilst paying for petrol, I overhear a few people at the queue talking about the collection of colour out on the forecourt. Every single car is mentioned apart from the GTR – and I won’t lie, this was a little damaging to my ego. Why wasn’t I being noticed? Didn’t they hear about the 523BHP engine? The 7.22 Ring lap? I knew exactly how to show them. When I start my engine, they’ll see.

As the whole forecourt erupted into life with various forms of Italian exotica celebrating the progression of the modern combustion engine, I sat there and started my engine, slightly embarrassed with the relatively silent contribution my gigantic exhausts were making. I’ll just do my windows up then…

Back on the road, and the visual payback is repeated. Every car gets photographed, pointed at, commented on – except mine. Again, I’m a silent witness to an orgy of car exotica and despite me being able to play with the best of them, I felt like the last guy picked for the football team.

The lack of aural and visual impact is indeed a problem in such esteemed company. A supercar is all about the drama. It’s about the excesses and necessities (or lack of thereof) of over-the-top extravagance. It’s why Lambo’s start engines with at least 2000 too many rpm’s. And why when you downshift a Ferrari you get a strangely gratuitous throttle blip.

Things that can’t be measured and can’t be reasoned with any form of logic. But therein lies the appeal of the GTR. It is unfazed by the spectacle of supercar characteristic. It attempts to do what it does best in the most efficient, unassuming way possible. It doesn’t feel the need to bark before it bites, instead opting to deliver its key message in a calm, controlled, almost mature manner.

Its performance is massive. Its offering is delightfully rich. And there is its character laid bare. It’s a loyal dog, always there for you when you need him, never questioning your motives and continues to provide you with the best relationship you could ever have.

As the sun dipped over Rickmansworth on a fantastic Sunday afternoon, everything suddenly fell into place for me and I suddenly understood the Nissan GTR.

I think if Nissan spent less time trying to force the GTR to become a supercar, it may eventually find itself placed in a unique pigeon hole without peer. It’s not a supercar, but it is a supercar slayer. With a boot.

Thanks to Terry Steeden at Nissan GB for the loan of the car. You’re lucky you have the car back. Nissan security were willing to take a bribe.

Four days at the Nurburgring, two of which would be on bikes, two days at Spa, an incredible cross country drive demonstrating some of the most verdant, beautiful coniferous green lands between Germany and Belgium and a solid helping of 30 deg heat throughout is surely a recipe for any petrol head.

Include the tools of surgery, them being two green GT3 RS’s and two Nissan GTR’s, and we’re either going to get into a massive fight or gain divine insight into the makings of automotive heaven.

The bravado had started months before, of course. Depending on which car you owned, the GTR was either an extraordinarily advanced automotive equivalent of HAL, leaving very little for the driver to do, or a revolutionary step in motoring, raising the bars of expectation. Similarly, the GT3 was either a prehistoric remnant of a romantic ideal no longer suitable for today’s audience, or it was a precision, scalpel like device that rewarded it’s drivers as much as it demanded from them. Either way, hearts would be broken, egos bruised and lap times championed.

It still surprises me just how much attention the green RS gets both on the road and in the paddocks. Put two of these cars together and the effect is amplified further. On motorways, other enthusiasts jostle, sometimes dangerously, as they undertake, overtake and pull over, with cameras in hand, just to be part of the convoy. The two GTR’s equally attractive, doing their bit for the decepticons, resplendent in their high tech paint work echoing shadows of Transformers-like aggression.

The three evening sessions Thursday to Saturday at the Nurburgring are to be the most sane of the whole week. As the weather showed signs of glory, every car club in northern Europe descended upon the place creating both a Mecca for car fans, but also frustration for those wanting to do some laps. Most people choose to use the ring carpark for posing, with many others having to queue for up to an hour just to get into the car park. Saturday we couldn’t even get on to the track as some banzai driver binned his car on his first out lap, causing the circuit to close for the whole day.

That’s the risk out there. I must have counted at least 15 trashed cars in 4 days and countless ambulances ferrying drivers to the nearest hospital. Its both a problem and, perversely, part of the attraction as adrenaline addicts flock to do the (£15!!) laps, oblivious to the threat of death. With tyres squealing at 165MPH, there simply is no time to contemplate mortality.

Sunday, being the only true all-day tourist day, open from 8am until 7pm, was a true comedy day. To think that our actions were completely legal must have been a sick joke upon the Germans. As a group of four, we bullied our way across the ring as we raced, raved and raped the german track and its inhabitants. Back into the ring car park, I removed my sweat drenched helmet and felt with guilty pleasure the buzz of having enjoyed yet another eight minutes of knife edge recreation unavailable anywhere else in the world.

So which car is the ring daddy? No doubt about it, the GTR is simply unbeatable. It quite literally has been built with a single purpose in mind, to dominate the ring and it does with aplomb. The GT3’s are out powered, out handled and out techno’d by a car fit for the 21st century. Not only does it have enough power to rotate the ring around the car itself, but its clever 4WD system makes the deploying of that power so damn efficient, it does not waste a single BHP in transition. The ring has many uphill sections which makes mince meat out of the normally aspirated GT3’s, without the torque, they just cannot compete.

Still, there’s no doubt that the Nissans are one track wonders. With soaring transmission and engine oil temps, the cars are unable to do more than one lap effectively. Add to that a 4 lap fuel tank, melting tyres and overheating brakes and the allure starts to diminish.

If lap times are your ultimate goal, then the GTR is unbeatable, but there are huge compromises as mentioned. The RS’s in contrast are bulletproof in comparison. Respectively, the Porsches are back-to-basics cars with little technology aside from chassis and handling expertise.

Incidentally, we did two laps of the ring on our mountain bikes. If you have a cycling interest then you MUST attempt this opportunity. We did the bike ride during an endurance race at the ring. It really was a spectacular, challenging and unique ride that had you following the 24km circuit around the outside.

Spa was a totally different story and all were amazed at the stark differences in car performance between the Nissans and the Porsches. To put it bluntly, the GT3’s were right at home as the cars were surgically woven from one bend to another in the fast, rapid switchbacks offered at Spa. The 1800kg weight on the GTRs could offer no comfort to any amount of technology as the GT3’s danced from one section to the next, deftly balancing braking, power and chassis dynamics.

Finished off a wonderful day at Spa by destroying a set of rears with some synchronised drifting with Richard Meaden. He was at Spa with a Porsche GB Gen 2 GT3 press car, Dickie can peddle and made for many awesome laps. When my fuel trip computer showed “– miles” in range, I then stayed out for another 5 laps, thats how much I was enjoying myself at risk of coasting the starved engine to a standstill. Got some nice drift footage which I’ll put up as soon as I get the DVD.
Edit: here it is

But the most memorable snapshot I brought back with me is an insanely beautiful drive across Europe as we took a scenic route between Germany and Belgium. Suddenly, lap times don’t matter and all we’re interested in is the noise of each others’ downshifts and throttle blips, no matter the car of choice. As we briskly accelerate between narrow tree lined roads, the sound of our exhausts reverb off the low walls bouncing back into our open windows hand in hand with the glorious sunshine of middle Europe.

It really is a defining experience of what makes the perfect motoring moment. The unnecessary heel and toeing, the intentional aggressive throttle between 3k-4k rpm, forcing the butterfly valves on the exhaust silencers to open and close at will and the physical leaning into each and every bend making the travel across this time locked land a magical experience as we chased the sun into the west.

I am naturally biased but with £100k in the bank, would I choose a GT3 again, or buy a GTR and put £40k away? Let me just say I have no regrets.

Edit: First video posted. Host car is Glenn’s, chasing mine.

Having suffered an irksome spell of snow and bad weather over the past month, I was happy with anything other than more snow. So when the weather report said ‘Heavy showers all day’ I was jubilant. I’m no alien to a bit of damp and as I hadn’t yet had time to change my discs and pads to more powerful items, what better way to consummate my relationship with my latest GT3?

So the soldiers with me, Henry in his beautifully pristine Cobalt Blue 997 GT3 and Guy in his powerhouse Dark Grey Metallic Nissan GTR. Warriors into battle, not a shred of fear amongst us. As a threesome we’ve together done a multitude of international events. We’ve probably travelled to Europe together dozens of times. We know the best viewing points at the Nurburgring (They’ve done the Scuderia Hanseat 3 times each) We’ve done trackdays together in the 100’s. And this has been going on for nigh on a decade. It’s this experience that we’ve collated, not only as trackday drivers, that allows us as a trio of guys to anticipate each others moves in such a safe and fun experience, regardless of environmental influence. I remember once in Papenburg, northernmost Germany, I had severe tyre damage on 2 wheels. I had to drive back from Germany to London at 30MPH through the night. It took me 9 hours to get home. Henry and Guy (with chest infection) did not leave my side and stuck with me the entire journey.

It’s this trust that allows the three of us to attack a trackday employing the ferocity we desire, with zero visibility, without risk to ourselves or others.

Enough with the pleasantries. How was the RS? [broken record mode]Absolutely bloody brilliant [/]. I have no other word to describe it. Rain or shine, this car is the king – undisputed. It really was non-stop rain all day and the GT3 is not a car to take liberties with. But I know this car, I’ve lived with it for years. I know its habits, its foibles and its idiosyncrasies. I know when to press it, I know when to submit.

The RS was so similar to the cooking vanilla GT3 that I’m really struggling to find some difference. I do notice an eagerness to rev – this is down to both the free-revving nature of the lightweight flywheel and also an effect of noise driven by the lack of rear window insulation (it’s made of lightweight plastic). I also noticed that when provoked into a drift (which was practically a permanent state yesterday), the car had a tendency to snap back into your line of sight with aggression. If not checked, this can lead to snappy fishtailing. I’m blaming this on a number of things; Firstly, the road conditions were totally chaotic – with the deep freeze over winter, this was followed by monsoon-like weather. What this did to the track surface is anyones guess. Secondly, I hadn’t had a geo done on the car yet, so I’m not sure what kind of camber this car has out of the factory. Rumour has it that camber settings from factory are often inconsistent and need adjusting, regardless of setting. Finally, and almost obviously, we have a wider track on the RS. This would possibly account for more grip on the rear, something you’d notice when coming out of an oversteer/drift moment.

Two other things I’ve noticed about this car. There’s the noise. It really is a stupendous, epic, shrieking banshee wail that entices at 3k rpm, exhilarates at 6k rpm and brutally rapes the senses at 8.2k rpm. Halving the thickness of the rear window and turning it into plastic has amplified the acoustic brilliance from inside the car and the pursuit of revs continues over and over again. The other thing to notice is the fantastic braking stability with that spoiler. It has none of the shifting, fidgety nature the GT3 has, allowing you to haul in under hard braking time and time again with sure-footedness. It’s reliable, dependable and controllable right up to the stopping inch, allowing you to focus on your approach line with clarity.

As it’s thinner brother proved before it, the RS is a delicate tool. The GTR a crushing carpet bomb of excellence as it devours anything in its path with utter abandon, the RS choosing instead to surgically remove its targets one by one, micro-managing inputs, gracefully crafting a line from one corner to the next and allowing itself to be adjusted minutely as it communicates the level of each and every wheel, one by one. It really is a revelation in driver communication and the low level seating of the fixed carbon seats places your arse right bang in the middle of the front and rear wheels. I have full dolby 7.1 DTS surround and I’m watching Avatar from the best seat in the house. It’s still no match for the GTR’s power on the straights, nor its incredible technology when juggling drive distribution through its four wheels. Coming out of a chicane onto a straight, the RS is no match for the GTR as it just opens its maw and chews through metal, tarmac, flesh and bone combined. The only hope you have is to fix up a number of consecutive bends – at this, the GTR struggles to contain it’s leviathan weight as gravity simply cannot be overcome – regardless of how many GB of processing power you throw at it. Still, I know which car I’d rather drive home in and the GTR is no doubt worthy of the many international accolades it has collected. Speaking of, has anyone questioned why Michael Bay hasn’t used one in Transformers? It’s perfect!

What was surprising was the wet weather ability of the RS – especially given it was on Michelin Pilot Sport Cups – horrible wet weather tyres. I suspect with the Pirelli Corsa R Systems, the car would have ripped a hole in the fabric of space time continuum. Although grip was severely restricted, the sheer level of communication allowed for healthy progress.

Henry in his GT3 provides the comedy. We’ve always enjoyed the odd black flag at Snetterton as we cannot resist the odd showboating. Today was a little different with the marshals as they appeared to be quite laid back and relaxed, considering there were only 20 cars on the track that’s no surprise.

I still maintain that there’s very little difference between a GT3 and its RS stablemate. It’s just as competent and equally effective in both rain and shine. I really am loving the colour scheme though, as loud and offensive as it may be, it’s quite suiting really. The ultimate test will be on a dry day after I’ve done my track geometry set up. Then I will be in a position to compare and that day can’t come soon enough.

My name is Cem. I am a GT3 addict.

As my predecessor elected to retain the car upon the inverse of his garage, I came to the car and discovered it buried underneath 2 inches of snow. Anyone who’s anyone knows GT3’s hate the cold for long periods. They are wild, feral beasts that choose to dance upon warm environments and work themselves into sweated frenzies. Anything more than a couple of weeks in sub-zero temperatures, the battery dies.

And my battery was dead.

First trip to Halfords and I bought another trickle charger (typical when you REALLY need your trickle charger, it’s actually 50 miles north because a friend borrowed it). This was plugged into the car and after 6 hours, ignition turned. Great, still nothing. Another trip to Halfords and I returned with a new battery and £120 lighter of pocket. Official Porsche one costs £300.00 – I hope I will not need it come warranty inspection time, later this month.

At last, I’m out, winding down doing 40 mph on the North Circular with pleasant satisfaction upon myself. Not much can do this, I find being in a familiar car environment is the great antithesis to stress.

This is my first 997 in RS guise. After periods of ridiculing RS buyers for having too much money to burn, I find myself open to revenge criticism.

Comparisons between the two inevitable of course, but I’ll not be qualified to do so until limits are explored on track. What I can say from the off is how incredible susceptible the RS is to tramlining, the wheels finding solace amongst the rutted valleys within the tarmac. Especially so of late, as the snow and low temperatures have made a mockery of UK asphalt. I inadvertently went over pot-holes tonight that were violent enough to shatter my spinal column.

Noise is also amplified. Not only is the rear window made of plastic, so less able to insulate noise, but also the single mass flywheel makes for a very noisy clutch. The acoustic effect is there to accentuate the ‘trackday’ aspect of the RS, but what I found it does is make the standard GT3 so much more hospitable in times when you aren’t on the racetrack.

But these are minor negatives to what is, of course, a staggeringly good car. Perfect heel and toeing – not because I’m a heel and toe master, but simply because the car’s been built to allow me, nay, entice me to do it. In the same way the steering wheel position, relative to your seating height and arm length is just spot on and even when you’re at a traffic light you can’t help but feel you’re on the grid. It feels like that scene in Avatar where the Na’vi connect with various animals via the nerve receptors at the end of their hair. It’s just a raw, primal, fleshy connection between man and car.

Tonight’s weather conditions were treacherous, given the amount of crap on the roads, that wasn’t surprising. But the GT3, being the delicate tool that it is, is subtley attuned to these variations in road and weather conditions. Care and attention is required to avoid any heart in mouth moments that require quick flicks of the wrist and brave maintenance of throttle and steering alike, lest you end up like the poor Z4 driver tonight who inexplicably buried himself into the very foundations of Hammersmith flyover at 50 MPH. I couldn’t find the front of that car for the life of me. It simply was no more.

2009 was an appalling year, both commercially and personally. After having been subjected to countless burglaries and various episodes of the law working against me, it’s nice to be back in something that is familiarly excellent.

It doesn’t make 2009 alright, but it does make it easier to swallow.

Spot the coffee cup.

We eventually found an awesome spot in the back of the Tesco’s distribution centre. However, the shelf stacker got an opportunity to demonstrate some authority and had us out of there too. Essentially, the whole night was a failure. Even Guy was pulled over by the local police, not for breaking the law but simply because they were curious about ‘whether this was the new GTR?’.

Despite the lack of success throughout the night, as each minute passed I became more enamoured by the sheer presence of Guy’s GTR in the night roads. I had the same feeling watching the car cruise in the midnight light, with it’s rear LED’s, as I felt when I used to watch Knight Rider as a child. There’s this sense of scale and competence that was quite overpowering. I couldn’t help but follow in it’s shadow as it’s rear lights painted red lines across the evening landscape.

Photos were scarce, but here’s one for kicks.

However far and few rewards are with owning a car forum, it can be satisfying at times seeing the uninterrupted dialogue between owners and enthusiasts alike, existing simply because you’ve provided for it and continue to maintain and massage the systems and staff required to run it, regardless of the mountains of cash that can be easily consumed when attempting to keep it ahead of the game.

Even so, I am at a loss when witnessing silently the anger and confusion dealt in equal measure to those currently awaiting for more information regarding their imminent GTR’s. Never have I seen such ambiguity and chaos during the launch of what is hailed as a seminal car. Now that certain criteria has been cast in to the light of scrutiny, it’s easy to see the reason why many others have cancelled.

VDC on/off is a topic of heated discussion with many thousands of words exchanged in the name of clarity but without any success. Nobody still knows the stance of Nissan and the VDC palaver and it’s subsequent effect on warranty status. Pre- and post-track day inspections are frankly hilarious and illustrate the fact that Nissan appear to have lost all control of the situation, preferring to make up rules as and when the voices of discontent increase in volume. Alleged costs of maintenance yearly are in the region of £4000.00 and the fact that Nissan are threatening to void warranties when these conditions are not met are in stark contrast to the Porsche baiting bravado they were keen to exhibit during the glared, lens flared launch over a year ago.

Porsche are at the top of their game for a reason and Nissan’s chipping away at their reputation has been nauseating at the least. Specifically, as a key target demographic, I’d like to see some evidence of these feats being met before championing them. I’ve done over 30 track days in Porsches and their warranty is rock solid. I do not need no nonsense inspections by Porsche in order to validate my legitimacy to partake on these events. I’ve just been to Porsche only a couple of weeks ago to extend my warranty and they were witness to both my horrendously obtuse brake discs and pads and my sticky track tyres. The questions I was asked were along the lines of “What did you think of Oulton Park?”, “I’ve added a litre of oil to your car, no problem – enjoy Silverstone and when you’re back, I’ll let you have a play with a Cayman”.

Nissan have launched this car on massively false pretences.

• The launch was smothered with news of its record breaking performance on the Nurburgring, smashing all previous times set by other manufacturers.
• The car was unveiled at the Goodwood Festival of Speed
• The car was shown to Europe at the Geneva Motorshow last year with a scale to size model of the entire Nurburgring circuit, with plasma screens showing the various track performance snippets. The main attraction, on the hour, was in-car video footage of a banzai lap of the ‘Ring.
• Race academy was introduced to new owners. A choice of Silverstone or Nurburgring was offered to hone the skills of deposit paid buyers
• Race helmets were sent out to owners.
• Ad infinitum

Porsche offer a no-cost option on their track focused cars called the Club Sport package. This comes with a roll-cage, fire extinguisher, race harnesses and in the case of earlier models, fuel cut out switches. There is no hidden deceit with regards to how Porsche are promoting the GT3.

Time will tell the attitude of Nissan dealers and their umbrella supporters, Nissan GB, but at the moment all I can see are disgruntled expectants who are waiting for a spark to convert en mass to alternative cars.

I suggest Nissan spend some time in clearing the mess of the current GTR before continuing to market the Spec-V. The fact that UK owners have to wait a whole year after the ROW is a comically unjust distribution. Ultimately, there is one question to ask:

Is the Nissan GTR a track car, or not?

For those who’ve never been, you’d think it was driving nirvana. And you’d be somewhat right. Germany has some of the most breathtaking roads in the world, combining fast autobahns with awesome mountain passes.

The reality of it does include the fantasy’s above, but there are setbacks. Traffic being the main problem, but 2 lane motorways and zero night-lighting means you have to be at the right place at the right time to put your car in its paces. The steep mountain roads can be deadly if not treated with a modicum of respect and driving through them in the rain at night can be treacherous, but insanely rewarding. The Evo 8 in our party was in its element on these roads and comfortably left everyone behind. Having a 400bhp lightweight car, powering the rear wheels with it’s engine behind the rear axle makes for potential entries to the yearly Darwin awards ‘ the GT3RS doesn’t suffer fools gladly and will consistently remind you that it IS better than you will ever be.

Most of the time, you’re looking a kilometre ahead, noting all the bunched up cars and waiting for them to pull out with no warning whatsoever. It really is an exercise of study, requiring a pre-emptive examination of the behaviour of all cars ahead of you. When you’re doing 150MPH +, you approach the rears of cars quicker than your brain tells you.
But the flip side is that any resident traffic quickly vacates the fast lane immediately after, making progress swift and painless. Still, opportunities to max out your car are frequent, but almost impossible to plan.

But this is a story of the Tortoise and the Hareâ?¦

We’ve been doing the Ring24Hr race for a number of years now and despite the great attraction of the race itself, the drive up there and back is the highlight for me. Happy to see the start of the race for a few hours and some nighttime racing, give me then a number of de-restricted roads and I’m in my own heaven.

My love of driving cars fast in Germany (I’m terrified of doing it in the UK with the fear of losing my licence being clear and concise enough motivation to keep things real) often means that our small convoy is often split up. With varying degrees of comfort and vehicle practicality, it regularly means that distances between convoy cars can sometimes span miles, requiring frequent stops and 30MPH autobahn cruises.

Thus did the conversation start after a bleary eyed dinner at the hotel with a magnificent Chateau Briand followed by a number of the local Pills beer. Opinions expressed and experiences relayed, we came to the rather obvious conclusion that our levels of performance on the road are vastly dissimilar, leading to the many convoy separations touched upon above. Where I was claiming that the party was moving too slow in the fast sections with no efforts to maintain high convoy speeds, I was backhand volleyed with comments that a healthy cruise at approximately 100MPH was more than enough to ensure good progress and fun driving. I wasn’t convinced.
Considering the next day marked our departure from fine Koblenz, plans were now afoot in organizing the ‘Whacky Racers-esque’ trip back to Calais. Convinced that I was more comfortable piling on the miles in a Gumball Rally style fashion, I exclaimed rather proudly that I’d be setting off first thing in the morning and would see everyone back in England. Auf Wiedersehen mon petit enfants.

‘I’ll be leaving at 9am sharp folks, lovely seeing you all!’

10:30am, Q strolls out of bed claiming that he’d be man enough to follow me at my pace. ‘Fine, stick with me’, I says to him ‘You’ll go far’

Oh how the young are easily fooled.

By the time everyone is fuelled up, there are 3 different parties on the road. Ian in his GT3 had petrol enough in his tank so didn’t need the fuel stop. Alex in his R33GTR was first to fill up and first to leave the forecourt, which meant I was the one waiting for the fine German specimen of a man (approximately 20 stone) to ease his un-waif like physique into his driving seat ‘ an incredible show of dexterity as it took no less than 20 minutes, by which time everyone else had at least a 20 mile head start. Not a fine way to prove a point. Doesn’t matter, I’m in a GT3RS, I’ll make up the time.

Heading out of Koblenz on the autobahn, I’m on a mission. I’ve got a point to prove and now’s not a time to be eating humble pie. I pile on the revs and aim for the horizon. 3rd, 4th, 5th and finally 6th ‘ I’m cruising at speeds of 120-150mph, Q in tow in his Evo8. The car’s proving to be more than capable at these kind of speeds, but the GT3RS is incredible. Simon and I are sitting at 150mph and I’m tuning into a radio station during a conversation. The flat 6 singing to me time after time, driving this car at anything less than 7/10’s is an exercise in reservation. But I’m unable to keep this desire to go fast in check, so I go another 20mph. I’m now sitting at between 150 and 170mph. The following Evo8, impressive looking with its xenons, is now losing breath and I see it slipping into the distance.

But, I’m now part of a team, leaving the soldiers behind is not acceptable behaviour. Oh and Q doesn’t have a map. So I’m on the slow lane at about 80 and the now familiar xenon headlamps have appeared over the brow of the hill. From 6th into 3rd I go and I bury the throttle ‘ I love this sequence, going from gear to gear full throttle, the engine sounds fab with a hot engine and exhaust ‘ the wail going operatic from 6000rpm to the 8200 redline and coupled with a final breath shove in the back. Each up shift is met with a ‘blip blip’, and then all over again.

Just as Q is catching up, a BMW 5 series cuts in behind me, blocking any line of sight I had with Q behind. Another exec saloon on a German autobahn. I’m sitting at a steady 120mph so he’s dropping back and I’m getting annoyed at the fact that I’m going to have to pull in again to wait for him to catch up [EDIT 1 - See below]. But I’m mistaken. The 5 series BMW is game for some action and he’s fast closing in on me. What the hell, let’s have some fun. I drop it into 4th gear for some singsong. Haha, that’ll teach him to mess with Stuttgart’s finest. I’m now pulling away quite confidently but I’m amused at his tenacity. That’s what I love about German drivers, they play a good game and don’t give in easily.

Then his blue lights come on.

There’s always a feeling of utter dread when faced with this situation. A million excuses start to run through your mind and you’re totally prepared to lie, cheat and steal to secure any chance of walking away scott free. ‘The dog ate my speedo’ comes immediately to mind, but the warped sense of British humour would be lost on my German hosts I feel.
Pulling over, Q drives up beside me and attempts to stop too. Discretely, I usher him to ’sod off’ and get away whilst he can, saving him from whatever outcome I’m about to face.

Stepping out of the car, I know straight away that stepping out of a GT3RS, white with bright red stickers and wheels, just aint gonna pull his sympathy strings much. No amount of butt smooching is going to work here, so out comes the Amex and I’m 365 Euros lighter of pocket. Shockingly, I was only caught at 150kph in a 100kph limit, despite the slightly more aggressive reality. Still, I was surprised at how polite and professional the officers were and in no way did I feel threatened or intimidated. I was also privy to a 10-minute lesson in German road signs.

It’s a hard pill to swallow, but I’m positive about the whole affair. We’re not angels on European roads and I’ve been over at least 10-15 times now with no police problems. So I’m happy that we’ve had a good spell and I guess I had it coming.

My passenger and I are now miles behind everyone else and despite our earlier enthusiasm, we’re now pretty keen to just cruise at a sensible speed and get home without any further Euro casualties. A quick phone call to Q confirms he is at the next service station, so, with a look of doom and gloom, we casually roll into the service station. Q has a map, which is good ‘ or is that bad? Now that we’re no longer responsible for the navigation, is the temptation too great for us to speed off again? Who knows! Stay tuned!

We pull out of the service station and start an easy cruise at 100mph towards the new motorway, E48. With zero speed restrictions. And it’s barren. And brand new. Oh dearâ?¦

RS goes into serious mode again and we’re sat at 150MPH the whole way. It really is a joy, with that lovely dual tone engine note ‘baaaaaaaaarp’ and a feeling of solidity through the steering wheel, the very design of the autobahn eradicating any potential tramlining. The road is practically empty and it’s only the odd occasion when we come up to traffic that we slow down to 120mph. Ahem. The scenery is magic too, with massive banks of coniferous trees and beautiful, gargantuan bridges that go up hundreds of feet. Typical German engineering. Its pure function makes it beautiful.

Coming over a fast sweeping bend, I’m faced with an even better sight. The longest, straightest bit of autobahn you’ve ever seen. I can’t help myself but drop a gear and nail the throttle. 5th gear goes on forever, I slick it into 6th gear at 160 and nail it again. My previous record is 185mph indicated on the Nur speedo (183 in this car) so I’m keen to hit 190mph for a new personal best.
160mph comes and goes and I look into the mirror, Q is slipping slowly away and I’m reaching for 170. 180. Q is now nowhere to be seen in my ‘Days of Thunder’ mirror, complete with shaky-cam effect. Bingo! I’ve hit 190MPH. But I’m not satisfied, plenty of room still left and I’m gunning for the big one. For a moment, I felt like Marty McFly at 88.5mph, I don’t remember anything between 190 and 200 apart from sweaty palms, millennium falcon style blurring stars and the baboon like shouting from my passenger after every incremental digit on the speedo. And then bang, it hits me ‘ 200mph on the digital read out. My heart cries out as I’ve just realised I haven’t been breathing for 60 seconds. Approaching traffic means I have to start slowing down and I’m reluctant to use the brakes, as I don’t want to turn the wheels into 4 blazing fireballs. Eventually, the wind resistance does a good job of slowing me down to 120mph, at which point it feels like we’ve stopped. Incredible. What a feeling.

After I allow some time for Q to catch up, we set out on a easy pace at 120 for a couple of hours. We make fantastic progress and despite me leaving last from the petrol station back in Koblenz, I’m convinced I’ll be first onto the channel train. A quick phone call to Alex in his 33GTR confirms that we’ve somehow managed to get 40km ahead of him. Super. But that pesky Ian in his GT3 managed to keep ahead at his almost dangerous 100mph cruising speed. I’ll get him.

Eventually, we arrive in Calais. Ian is in the vicinity and I’m keen to catch up with him. I’ve been driving with god as a passenger for 400 miles and I’m keen to get over to the UK now. But it wasn’t to be. Queuing up at the Eurotunnel booths, I’m asked for a paltry £30.00 fee to pay to get on to an earlier train. I’m trying to explain how I’ve already paid a fee on my outbound journey, which should have made it a flexible ticket, but she’s not listening and is keen to remind me of her working policy. Stubborn Cem steps into place and I refuse to pay the fee. Cue her manager.

I’m trying to be reasonable now, and I’m asking him questions as to why they change times when they see fit and when it benefits them, but when it suits me I’m charged £30 for the privilege, despite my insistence that I’ve paid the extra fee from before. I may as well be talking to a door that’s just been slammed in my face. The rear of the lane is now blocked off and Q and I are trapped in the booth entry. I’m being asked to now leave the premises. Incredible. My passenger is now trying to convince me that paying the £30 fine is probably a better bet, and curse me for being this way, as a man of principle I’m being stubborn as hell. Throughout all this, an SMS from Ian tells me he’s on a train and he hopes I have a good journey home. Hmmâ?¦

Then the police arrive. Not sure, but has anyone ever had to deal with French police? Deal being the wrong word, my passport is snatched from me and I’m ordered in no uncertain terms to move my vehicle to the side of the police control centre. Great. The weather is now scorching and we’re in full view of the entire Le Mans fraternity now. I step out of the car as I now realise we may be in a spot of bother. The policeman was a fully clothed and armed officer who made absolutely no eye contact. I was after this point in, as good as a murderer and treated as a criminal. Foolishly, I assumed that if the Police arrived, I’d be able to conduct a civil conversation based on the civility demonstrated by not only the fab British Police, but also the German counterparts who pulled me over for speeding only a few hours earlier. Meanwhile, Q drives past, shouts that he’s boarding the train and says he’ll see me later. Bye Bye Q.

20 minutes pass and I’m now getting a little worried. My passenger has been pacing the road up and down and generally curses at me for not curbing my ‘fantasy-land’ iron principles. I’m slowly starting to agree with him. With thoughts of dark dungeons and anal probes, I quickly pick up the mobile and start to dial the wife back home ‘If you don’t hear from me in 2 hours, call the consulate’ I say. ‘Oh and don’t panic’ I lieâ?¦

Just then, he walks out of the office, Robocop style ‘Monsieur, Prennez votre voiture et partez d’ici maintenant’. He’s not in the mood for a laugh. His sidekick manager friend walks over, like the monkey he is, and tells me my ticket is no longer valid on the Eurotunnel as he doesn’t want me on the train in fear of me causing more disruption. Of course, based on my violent background and string of criminal records 3 books thick, he made the kind of decision I would expect from someone who shared a brain cell with a biro.

So, we’re now kicked off the terminal, no tickets, it’s Le Mans weekend in Calais, we have a 365 euro speeding fine, I’ve got a certain amount of humble pie to eat back home and I’ve some explaining to do to the wife who probably thinks I tried to smuggle 4 kilos of pure white into the country. Certainly sounds more dramatic than ‘I didn’t want to pay the extension fee’. All in all, it’s been a bloody good day.

Just had a phone call from Alex in the GTR, he’s also just boarded the train and is about to drive off, despite some heavy handling of his car by the authorities there.

A short drive over to the Ferry port confirms a space for us in 90 mins, the same amount of time it takes the ferry to cross. So we’re now 3 hours behind schedule. The sour experience I gain from the tunnel means I savour the moments on the ferry. A superb meal and some nice coffee on the outside deck later, I’m ready to get in my car and kiss planet England.

My journey back from Dover is conducted at 80mph and I enjoy it like I’ve never driven before. It’s a beautiful day, my company was superb and I get back home for 7pm, hours after everyone else.
There’s a bleedin obvious moral to this story, but I’m too tired to come up with something witty.

This is as literal an adaptation of the tale, Tortoise and the Hare, as you can get. It was an adventure, some good, some bad, but an adventure none the less.

So, I am now 3 months without a car before my next one arrives. Now I just keep thinking of bright yellow German cars.

Some of you are saying “But you had great fun!” and yes, indeed I did. But when you’re promised a reimbursement of over £2500 of expenses and you get £200, you kinda feel a little fucked. I could go on, suffice to say that our relationship is severed thanks to the almost comical professionalism employed by Traffic. Screw you and I hope you’ll be in need of help soon as I’m keen to deny.

After 4 months of waiting, I pick up the new car.

The last itteration of the Skyline GTR, this R34 GTR V-Spec 2 Nür was built by Nissan to commemorate both the end of the production of the current phase GTR and also in celebration of the infamous Nurburgring.

Amongst a multitude of upgrades over the ’standard’ V-Spec, the car comes with the strengthened block and internals and uprated steel N1 turbos.
This means that thanks to some minor mods from my tuner, the car is being set up for a comfortable 500bhp. Together with the S-Tune Nismo suspension, complete Nismo bodykit (including Nismo carbon bonnet) and AP 6 pots, the car is ready for both road and track.

I’m taking a client on a road trip to the Nurburgring this weekend – I know, it’s a lame excuse but let’s hope he’s got a strong heart, I want to break 200MPH.

This site’s been a little dormant lately, not least because of efforts elsewhere on sites such as the GTR Register. Expect a write up soon…

EDIT – 12th Febuary 2003
She has been sold!!! Best of luck to Wroestar!

Abbey Motorsport and Prospec Motorsport gave me great pleasure in allowing me to gate crash their party, and oh what a party it was. Met an incredible amount of people and often no doubt upset others by way of going off on tangents with new guests, such was the interest in the Abbey Stand as seen in the pictures.

A thoroughly entertaining day, god was kind by providing us with probably the last sustained moment of sunshine this year. It was also a great opportunity to show off the new trick parts on the car. Most of the time, people were very impressed with the changes in looks. Other thought, thought it looked tacky and weren’t happy with the different coloured panels.

I keep saying, but what a boring place this would be if we all thought the same.

Ahh, I’m like a purring kitten at the moment. I have eyes only for this now.

Latest additions today are:

Carbon Mines spoiler
Carbon Mines wing mirrors
Carbon Nismo bonnet (purrrrr)
Volks Racing TE37’s
Mines Eibach springs

Umm, umm….

My prayers to the god of carbon fibre have been answered.

Using the camera has become a more enjoyable experience for me and perhaps may show in the results. I have often been the believer in the school of thought dictating that ‘expensive cameras maketh not the better pictures’. I have been forced to respect the work of professionals who make a living from such pursuits. Looking into the monthly Car magazine, I am consistently impressed by the standards that the magazine achieves by way of quality.

Notable moments:
Ronnie and Gary’s 700+bhp monsters making mincemeat of hotrod dragsters. Pulling 11.05 on the 1/4 mile is an incredible feat and testomony to the performance of these cars.
The jet powered car that sounded like god giving the earth a hearty, cold, bitch slap.
The burnouts. My clothes reeked by the end of the day.

Not all memories are made of instances like this, but it’s close. I have experienced the best roads of my life in Germany. Mountain passes, roads embedded into timeless valleys, tree lined lanes amongst vineyards and most memorably, the autobahn. Speed cameras aren’t rare, but they reside in areas that deserve them, such as schools, busy intersections etc. The freedom to drive is ever passionate and the roads welcoming. Germany is bred on limitless motorways, it’s inevitable that their population lunch at over 100mph and this liberation shines in the people. A proud nation, rightly so too. Responsible for one of the strongest economies in the world, Germany has amassed a brilliance of engineering excellence, from it’s automotive institutions to it’s world class architecture. Wind generators of titanic scale decorate the landscape in a demonstration of technical know-how amongst a backdrop of beauty that would rival a Canadian forest. Over the crest, though, one is staggered to see a castle built into the side of a mountain.

But the main reason for our visit was the 24h Nurburgring race featuring the last ever attempt of glory of the Falken Racing Team Nissan Skyline. Arriving en masse to the ‘Ring on a commercial day like this in 6 Skylines is an experience to behold. With only 3 Skylines in Germany, the GTR is a truly rare sight. When 6 of them arrive in a gleaming array of Bayside Blue and HKS Hypers, then the Germans do nothing but drop their frankfurters and wail ‘oh mein gut!’. The messiahs had arrived.

After finding a nice parking area in the press car park (courtesy of some blagging by yours truly), we eventually realise that we aren’t the only special cars in town. A vast array of cars both litter the car park and also please the crowds by performing drive by’s. Dodge Vipers, Ferraris, 996 Turbos, etc. etc. I was even privileged to see a new Audi RS6, a new addition to my wish list.

The Falken team were only able to place one car out of the three on the grid, reason unknown. It was very impressive watching the cars at the end of the pitstraight brake from 180mph to 20 into the hairpin. But as exciting as the daytime racing was, it paled into insignificance when we returned late at 2.00am to watch the night driving. With only their headlights and memory to guide them, the skills that were being demonstrated by the drivers were staggering. If you’ve never watched a night race then I recommend you do so immediately, it was one of the highlights of the weekend for me. A very respectable 5th place earned and a higher position lost out basically due to a 30 minute pitstop with brake problems.

After a photoshoot with GTR magazine of Japan, we were witness to a certain Midnight Purple R34 development car with 600bhp. Me thinks a little company is out there to break the ring record.

Verdict: Motoring Nirvana.

The 21:51 Eurotunnel tickets bought, I made my way with 3 other cars towards the Folkestone terminal to meet with the other 4 cars. An hour ahead of schedule, rough plans were made dictating where within France we would head towards. With 8 hours at our disposal, time was on our side. We didn’t need to be back until 08:00 the following morning. Fortunately for most of us, we had passengers to help with not only the navigation, but also assist with photography, warming the RedBulls and providing a soundtrack to the sound of snoring. Being a driver in such exciting times means the adrenaline is constantly pumping and the heart is in overdrive. Fatigue during this instance is practically non-existent, so although the body may be tired, the mind is always alert and sharp.

4 Subaru Imprezas, 2 Skyline R34s and an Evo 6 meant a good balance of cars. It was alleged, however, that if we were to have travelled to the German Autobahns, speeds of 180MPH would have been reached with comfortable cruising speeds of 120-130MPH. Imprezas and Evos find that kind of pace uncomfortable, however. For their short gearing and light bodyshells make such progress not only painfully loud, but harsh on the engine also, for you find yourself constantly near the redline. In the Skyline, you enter an alternative reality. 6 gears and vast roadholding and ride mean a stable and comfortable ride which makes 130-140mph child’s play. But you must be careful, for with ease comes complacency. With supposed straights that initially seem to last forever, flashing past with incredible frequency, it becomes an art form to judge where and when this kind of driving is suitable. Thankfully for us, the roads were utterly bereft of both hazard and traffic.

But all that was the way there, for on the way back, we ventured off the ill-lit motorways and enjoyed some of the best country roads I’ve seen. The quaintness and petite nature of the villages demands respect, so peaceful was the ambience the thought of 7 brutal Japanese cars tearing through the neighbourhood was a restrained exercise. Not in Le Havre though. An old, decrepit industrial town totally bereft of character meant a no holds barred approach to tunnels, for there were many to enjoy, not least the one that lasted a kilometre.

Fuel is scarce in N France. Especially good fuel. This recce provided us with invaluable information, the kind we will all benefit from in the near future.

A 10 out of 10 event.

(high speed runs were conducted on the German autobahns)

Pictures here

Edit – Email received:

From:

To:
Subject: Enquiry From Website
Date: 12 May 2002 19:58
On 2002-05-12 at 19:06:00,
The following information was submitted:
From Host: XXXXXXXX
name = PePe lePeu
comments = British drivers! I was driving round happily in my black golf sur mon historic coastal home town, on the French coast when the most unbelievable thing happened. I was just showing the wife and bebe how to take a racing line across a Give Way sign when no less than 1800bhp of British owned Japanese sportscars decided to cut across my very path!!! This made me very angry, VERY VERY ANGRY!! I discussed this with my wife and we decided that French rule means we have priority over any other car on the road especially when p*ssed at 3 in the morning – Jean-Pierre, despite being 4 and a half – agreed wholeheartedly. Imagine our COMPLETE disgust when, upon being confronted by us jumping up and down in the street like a coupe of coke snorting baboons the British drivers simply drove round us! Ooooh, we were fuming. We see you British on television at your football games so expected at the very least a good pasting. We were most disappointed and rung ahead to cousins in the French International darts team to hold up the silly British drivers whilst we caught them up with Grand-pere Claud’s shotgun… We’re still looking for them…submit_by = pepe@dubbsnet.com

The ride has been promised, but I’ll not hold my breath!

Some great areas of interest on the way, including a historic school and the infamous railroad crossing which heralds the start of the crystal clear 2 km straight, the B660 is one of the nicest roads within sane travelling distance. But beware, it’s also a terrifying drive. We drove past the scene of a serious accident we were involved in and I for one felt a chill down my spine as we recognised the skid marks that wrecked a similar day out last year.

New wheels went on today, I think they look awesome. They’re 19″ Rays Volk Racing, with a blue inside rim, looks the proverbial canine genitals. I’ve noticed a little increase in tramlining, but I plan on buying some trackday wheels also.

What do you all think?

With the new Mine’s ECU and oil cooler, the car was in absolute tip top condition all day and didn’t miss a single heartbeat. 3rd trackday on same standard Brembo and same Continental tyres kept bank manager happy also. Despite beautiful hot weather, the tyres performed very well, even after a few laps of oversteering abuse round certain hairpins. Others were not as economical, with brand new sets of tyres going in a matter of hours. But then full on powerslides were never recommended as part of a healthier lifestyle. Full fat ain’t half tasty though.

For such a large track (Gran Turismo circuit is 3.14 miles long) it is very easy to become lost in your own little world, and unless you’re very fast or very slow, then you’re unlikely to pass another driver unless it’s in a cool down lap. Also, cone etiquette is appalling, with cones splattered everywhere, it often became a slalom course. I called the ‘cone hotline’ a few times.

This time, we placed a total of 3 cameras in the car. One externally on the front grill (which gave an awesome impression of speed) and two in the car, one facing either direction. The video’s need editing and will be available to download soon.

Meanwhile, I urge anyone who hasn’t done a trackday to give this one a go, Bedford is the best amateur circuit in the UK, with plenty of run off and great all round visibility. In the dry, it’s a total safe zone. In the wet, it’s an absolute hoot.

I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve walked away from a cancelled Run What You Brung day. I should have known better, but the prospect of driving up in convoy with upto 50 like-minded fellow petrolheads puts all sorts of temptive suggestions in my head, smell of octane, burnt clutches and cheesy grins galore. Cossie boys providing plenty entertainment throughout, with burnouts and powerslides at every opportunity (an amusing spinout happened twice at organised service station roundabout), every party needs a Ford Cosworth to balance the fun.

Never seen such a mass of Pulsars and Sunnys, but they are always the heart and soul of a drag strip race day, with at least 2 dropping its guts on the start line.

Worth the drive out, as always, an excuse to use up some petrol.

I am keen to find out how David ranks the three evolutions of the Skyline after having extensively driven both on the day. The magazine comes out in beginning February.

0 degrees ambient temperature ensured insane power last night with most of us peaking at over 0.1bar over standard. The abnormally high boost pressure induced a 103 degree oil temperature reading on my car, so we pulled into this car park for some pictures too.

Some fantastic fireworks from both Shin’s 540BHP Mines car and also my Blue. Where Shin was creating a lovely smooth, almost caressing flame out of his exhaust which smothered the back of his car, I was generating explosive bangs which I could literally feel through my seat. I’ve developed a method now which will pretty much guarantee a firework display on demand. A nice show piece and yes I know, extremely childish.

Also attracted a fellow Pulsar GTi-R en route who was pretty suprised to see 2 GT-R’s and a STi parked up on the side of the road.

It’s a nice feeling having sold the car to someone you know. These little reunions are quite amusing but one day, I’m gonna hide his keys.

The actual event at Santa Pod was, as ever, great fun. Luckily, the weather held out but by the time the cars were into the running schedules, we left for the Watford meet at the Pub. In hindsight, we wished to have stayed there longer throughout.

In terms of driver appeal, it certainly excels. For such a large car to feel impossibly nimble is a feat in itself, defying it’s gargantuan size with lithe movements and the grace of a feline. Even so, you are still wary of the bulk you are commanding and I have always sensed a demand for respect from this car. I had a fantastic drift moment on one of my favourite roundabouts. Although it took me entirely by surprise, it was a fabulous, almost dream like moment which sent all 4 wheels spinning out of the exit. However, I still fear it, for if one end decided to overtake the other, then I cannot say that electronics, however complex and ingenious, will champion the might of the laws of physics. You simply cannot ignore the mass of metal that is the R34.

I am still learning this car (naturally, I am only on my 2nd day of ownership) so there are a lot of academic and theoretical assumptions being made on my part. I look forward to taking it onto a track day. I should imagine it would be supreme on a track day, because although up to 60MPH, my previous Evo acts faster (more of an event, maybe) the Skyline makes good use of its extra turbo and larger capacity by igniting itself into another atmosphere once triple figures start to loom. Its top end acceleration is brutal, and because of its 8000RPM red line, you always feel that you give up way before the car starts moaning.

There are some fantastic driver aids on this car though, from its HICAS 4WS to the complex, yet hugely satisfying centre console digital display read out, you know the car is always trying its damned hardest to make sure that the driver is having a fab time.

I’ve a lot to learn, and teach, about this car. But I’m going to learn to walk before I try to run.

Now, who does the best downpipe?