Saturday, December 31, 2005

Skyline Part II, et al

And so, I've begun my work ruining this terriffic car. No, seriously, it's getting better.

I'm holding off on the interior work because I'd like to save that for when it's warmer. And because I don't want to blow a bunch of money on nice upholstery and then fuck it up with ice and snow and salt and sand and shit. And because my upholstery guy swears there's no way he can fit me in (the bastard, with all the business I send him, he'd better fucking comp me some free suede when this is over).

And so...engine stuff! I'm basically doing what I can do in the parking garage and have done for free by people who owe me for business. First off...head work. I had it ported and polished, and the block got blueprinted. This is fairly expensive stuff (although not for me), but it improves flow in the engine and makes power without making the engine work any harder. And it bumps my redline up 1000RPM. I also got a 30-, 45-, and 60-degree on the intake and exhaust valve seats. Along with a race camshaft, and a whole bunch of other really sexy internals too numerous to mention. I also had the engine painted and chromed to make it look pretty, although I had to pay for that shit.

I also swapped out the two small turbos for one larger one. It's still appropriately-sized for the engine, so I'm not dealing with big-time turbo lag. Custom intake and exhaust manifolds (the exhaust is really trick). I decided to leave the compression ratio the same. ECU is now handled by an aftermarket AEM computer with independent ignition control, also by AEM. And, of course, the mandatory fat-assed injectors, ultralow-impedence spark plug wiring, and race-grade plugs. Swapped the battery for an Optima. Bigger fuel pump. Enormous air-to-air intercooler that sits under the radiator, fed through the bumper. Exhuast plumbing got chopped out entirely, and I've got a straight twin-pipe in there now with a better catalytic converter and sexy mufflers (courtesy of Magnaflow, they sound awesome). 4.8-inch connecting rods that are superbly balanced (we're talking 1, maybe 2 grams here). Race crankshaft that lets me do nice things like rev to 8000RPM. Two oil coolers.

Laughing gas...yeah, I added NoS. Sue me. It'll lower the intake temperatures a good 70 degrees and give me an assload of power. Because this isn't some dragstrip slut, I'm only using a 50-shot, direct injection. And a pair of 2-liter bottles, with sprayers so I can purge the system. NoS is expensive, though, so I've got it on a steering wheel trigger.

End result? The engine that was making 276-hp is now cranking out 400hp, if I'm to believe the dyno numbers, which can be faulted if the dyno operator is devious or a dipshit, or both. But I looked over his shoulder and I'm fairly certain he was working it right. I still have to play around with a few things, but I'll take 400 horses. There's really not too much more I can do, really. Lord knows what it's pushing when I tip off the nitrous, though.

Brakes! Big, fat-assed Brembos. 14.3" up front and 13.9" in back. The absolute largest brakes I could possibly fit while still clearing the wheel. Forged from titanium, two-piece rotors, six pistons in front, four in back. Cross-drilled and slotted, too. They're actually the exact same brakes used in Nissan's R34 Z-tune, which had a goal of 1.8g's of deceleration force on R-compound tires. I had to monkey with the ABS to make the damn things worthwhile.

Drivetrain...the usual. A clutch beefy enough to handle this shit, superlight flywheel. Carbon driveshaft that weighs 18 pounds. Short-throw shift kit.

Swapped out the tires for BF Goodrich gForce KDWs. I would have gone with KDs (the dry-only version of the KDW), but I need to drive this puppy every day.

I did put an A-pillar guage pod in, to hold oil temperature, turbo pressure, and intake temperature guages. Along with an oversized tachometer with a programable shift-point indicator on the dash. And cleaner-looking blue-background guages for the in-dash displays.

Suspension...blah, blah, blah, race-type coil-overs, courtesy of HKS, along with stifferanti-roll bars.

Got all this done over the course of about two weeks, in stages, so I could drive it an evaluate the changes in between. When I took Lisa's dad for a ride, I'd had the suspenion stuff done, so the handling he was cursing at me about was the result of the coil-overs and not the natural Skyline ability, which is still pretty amazing thanks to the ATTESA all-wheel drive system.

Best thing yet, I got all this crap done before Lisa's folks left. So me and pops there were able to go out for another ride.

I found a loser with a Lamborghini Gallardo. Pops thought I was crazy. I didn't want to race the guy (why race a Gallardo on the street when I can pick up the phone and race a Murcielago on the track?), but he revved his engine at me. What was I going to do? Had to defend my manufacturer.

I beat him off the line with a 6500RPM launch. And then I beat him for the next mile or so, at which point I couldn't see him in my rearview, despite the obscene lime green paint. A couple miles down the road, he roared past me in a pitiful display of suck. Didn't matter by then, I'd already proved my point. Pops turned to me and said, "Hey, you're not so bad after all."

Lisa and I waved them off this morning...well, yesterday morning, and she jumped me the second we got the door closed. I love that girl. Then I had to go to work and sell cars to make money. We got a shipment in, various cars pieced together from a number of manufacturers to make a nice little surprise. Three Porsche Cayman S's, a Viper SRT10, a Mercedes CLK, and another Aston Martin DB9 (which I always love getting), this time in British Racing Green. All in all, not a bad day. I hadn't gotten a chance to drive the Cayman S, and they're sublime.

And now...time for New Year's...champagne and cuddling on the couch. Life is pretty good.

Sunday, December 25, 2005

I Suck

Kill me. Right now. Please. I'll pay you five thousand dollars if you just blow my brains out.

Surprise! Lisa's parents decided that they'd show up for Christmas! To see the happy couple! And maybe get rid of me once and for all by driving me off a goddamn cliff!

Lisa and I were positively bouncing around the apartment when they showed up. We hadn't wrapped their presents. I had to go through the boxes and figure out which one had the lingerie in it so we didn't open that in front of them. Then there was the rushed, whispered conversation we had as to whether we'd left two ounces of marijuana out on the desk in the study. It turns out we--and by we, I mean, she--did. As messy and disorganized as I tend to be, I usually put my drugs and drug paraphanelia away.

We get the stuff from the guy that does the valet parking for the basement lot. Very good guy. He also keeps us in whatever alcoholic beverages we'd like. His cut is 10% on the pot, 5% on the booze. He's quick, clean, and discrete. Once a week, I take Lisa's car out to get washed, and when I bring it back, I actually have him park it. That's his cue to leave whatever was on our little shopping list in the glove box, where his cut and the money for next week is waiting. In this way, I never have to tell him to get me booze or pot, and he never has to ask for money. It keeps everyone covered.

Oh, yes, we had to smuggle all our alcohol to the bedroom. Champagne, mostly, plus some beer. Only to find that they brought a couple bottles of bubbly. I felt like telling them, "Hey, I got better stuff that this tucked under the comforter cover!"

And then there was the cars. Her parents are...well, car-tarded ("car" plus "retarded" equals "car-tarded". Her dad heard that I'd got some new hot ride, and then he saw the Skyline. He looked at it like I'd just told him I bought a cherry `92 EK Civic. Did not get it at all.

For his part, he drives a brand-new Pontiac GTO. Complete with the 6.0L ass-kicking V8. But the engine is all there is to that car. Enormous power...but it's heavy, and it's designed to be able to go real fast without sacrificing ride quality and shit like that. Top speed is actually around 160-170mph, depending on the conditions, air pressure and temperature, and the individual car in question. Oh, it's fast. But other than that, it's nothing special. It'll be in the little dealer race series, and now that I've driven it, I'm scared. With a good suspension and tires, and a stripped interior, it has the potential to be a serious competitor. But I think that the new Mustang can kick its ass if given half the chance. And a big-power 350Z can certainly do it.

So I took him for a ride in the Skyline. He can't drive stick, so that cut him off from a chance to destroy my baby. I was doing okay on the anger-control front, until he said, "So what's the big deal about this thing?"

Then I lost it. And prompty powerslid around a corner. Kicked it a full 90, lined up on the turn, and then let the tires grab and rocket through. There was a time I was leaning forward to look around him so I could see where the car was going. I followed that up with a tear-ass ride through a back road with lots of nice slopes and no traffic. Speed limit said 30, but it felt more like a 65 to me. And I had it up to 75 for most of the turns, 80-85 on straights. The car responded beautifully. Barely even needed to be told what to do. But I can get it a little bit better, a little faster, a little more connected, so I will. GTC cars spoiled me. Now I'm not happy unless I have total feedback.

But yes...this is just wonderful. Now we have to hold off on the hot, dirty, passionate, and loud sex until we can push these bastards out the door.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005



Okay, so there is some holiday cheer that appeals to me. For one, the holiday cheer that involves people buying cars to give to their loved ones (I'm making out like a bandit). For another...I just like the apartment a little more now. Big tree, lights, the whole she-bang. A Christmas cocktail party. Lisa's cute sweaters. Laying in bed next to her with the gas fireplace going...

...okay, so maybe I'm getting a little sentimental in my old age.

Although...old age? Maybe note quite yet. I'm twenty. I've got the better part of my career in front of me (whether it's in the law, autosport, or auto sales). My legs are doing pretty good, there's times they feel just like they used to nowadays. My back hasn't really bothered me in weeks. I've still got another sixty years in me at least. One day I'll have a kid, or kids. For now, I've got a very pretty live-in girlfriend, a pretty good job, and a nice place to live. Things are not that bad.

On the other hand, her folks despise me. For "corrupting" their daughter, or some such nonsense. I think I'm doing okay by her. As for the supposed immorality of living together before marriage (and by natural extension of logic, sleeping together), well, welcome to the 21st century.

My parents still aren't on the best of terms with me, and that kills me a little. They're a little warmer now that I'm going to school (and on a three-year plan, to boot), but we're still not cozy. They think I threw away something when I went off for that year, year and a half. And they still think of me as just being a car salesman. Never mind the fact that I'm not one of those poor schmucks trying to live on a commission (I'm salaried, because when you get to this kind of selling, you need a real goddamned professional, and real professionals work on salaries). And never mind the fact that I'm dealing in Astons and Jags and Lotuses and high-end Mercedes and BMWs, that the cheapest things I work with are fifty-thousand-dollar automobiles, not goddamn used Kias.

And then there's my half-brothers and half-sister. They're good kids. I still fucking hate their dad (when I said "my parents" before, I meant my mom and step-dad). And their mom is a dipshit. But that's not their fault.

I have to drive out after Christmas to visit them. Joey, the oldest at 13, is my own personal fan club. Kid lives and breathes cars and racing and the culture. He's got a couple of my posters up on his wall (yes, I have posters), and a little model of my car, just like the other model I have on my desk at work. Not old enough to drive yet, but he can tell you anything you want to know about any car worth knowing about. I got him a little remote-controlled car. No, not a little kids' one. This one is powered by a weed-whacker engine and was built buy a guy I know for me. It's a Subaru WRX STi, scaled so the engine fits under the hood. Very, very fast. My buddy gave me a demonstration run with it. It's sufficiently cool. Hell, it's even all-wheel drive.

Elizabeth, 11, is a different deal. The precise antithesis of me. Likes to paint and draw and all that jazz. And she's pretty damn good. And that's not "pretty damn good for her age". Per her Christmas wishes as she told them to me, I scoped out a professional art supply house and got her a whole pile of professional-grade brushes, paper, paints, pencils, pastels, so on and so forth, ad nauseum. Stuff her parents can't get her because they live out in the middle of nowhere.

Then there's Thomas Jr, at 9. He's my shining star of retribution, everything that his dad hates: As big a car guy as Joey's growing up to be, Tommy makes him look like a pink-pantied college co-ed with a Mazda 626. He builds models of cars. Very good at it. Does real nice work with paint, even sands off the lines where they cut the plastic body panels. I got him a couple models to do, ones he was looking for: 1992 Toyota Supra, Shelby Mustang GT350R, C6 Corvette, and (my personal favorite, I love this kid) a Lotus Elise and Esprit V8.

All the money totals up the same, and everything is exactly what they asked for. Except for Joey, who's too macho to come out and ask.

As for Lisa...well, she's kinda easy. Jeweler's had a very nice necklace. And I eyed up the engagement rings while I was there. Toss in a nice Coach handbag, a pair of Coach leather gloves, a new bathrobe and slippers, and we're there. And, of course, the obligatory every-damn-chance-I-get run to Victoria's Secret.

I figure, I'll take Christmas with Lisa, go down a couple days later to visit the kids, and while I'm doing that, figure out if I want to propose. Hey, this is a great plan!

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Outnumbered...Never Outgunned

Okay, whaddya want first? The new car, or my impeccable logic?

Too bad, you're getting the car first. The Nissan Skyline R34 GTR V-Spec II is...sublime. That's the only way I can describe it. My EVO was faster, but it was faster because I was kicking a good 400-hp out of an engine that made 276-hp when it was stock. The Skyline is still making its base 276 out of a turbo'd V6.

That engine is the lovely RB26DETT. The "26" there means that it displaces 2.6 liters, and the "TT" means "twin-turbo". It cranks out 276-hp and 289-lb-ft of torque, which provides ample motivation for the car. It also has one of the world's best all-wheel drive systems, which gives it amazing handling out of the box, along with superb control. It's not a light car, but it doesn't have to be. It's good anyway.

And sweet mother of God, is it good. Plenty quick enough for everyday driving, and pretty fast for track work, too. Easy to control through city streets, and quite comfortable on the highway. I have yet to really flog it somewhere, but that'll come soon enough. It's a perfectly balanced car...while it doesn't really own any one category, it does pretty well in all of them. And here's the great part...I'm getting 36mpg right now. I won't once I start playing with it, but for now, envy me. And what do I really want to do to it?

1. More power. It's quick now, but I was spoiled by the EVO and its ridiculous power. The RB26DETT can easily produce 565-hp, as was shown by this year's Sport Compact Car magazine's Ultimate Street why not make 565-hp? That guy was able to do it and have a car that passed all the emissions tests and was still driveable on the street. In fact, it was his daily driver, and he picked up groceries with it. My plan is to add power by lowering the 8.5:1 compression ratio just a smidge, slapping on one big turbo instead of two little ones (it's easier to control one turbo than it is to control two), do some work on the engine's internals, replace the stock intake and exhausts, remap the ECU a little, chuck on a superlight flywheel, and give the clutch a re-do. I probably won't make more than 500-hp without blowing a lot of money on custom engine work, but I can easily settle for 450.

2. Better handling. Yes, I know the hahndling is really goddamn good. I don't care. And I don't care about how bad the ride is, so long as I can turn tighter than everyone else and look good doing it. And that means a Nismo R-tune setup front and rear, stiffer anti-roll bars, strut tower bar, removing the minimal backseat, replacing the hood with painted carbon fiber, and chucking on a set of R-compound tires.

3. Brakes. When you're making big power, you need big, beefy brakes mated with your big, sticky tires. I think a set of oversized, cross-drilled and slotted brakes from StopTech should do nicely. Maybe 13" up front, 11.5" in back. Or more if I can squeeze them in behind the Konig Theory rims. Oh, and a careful replacement of the brake lines with steel braided ones, because broken brake lines suck ass.

4. Sound. I'm sorry, but the stock sound system just isn't up to my personal preferences. I'm going to tear the whole thing out. First off, bass. I was thinking something along the lines of a single 1000-watt Rockford Fosgate amplifier driving two 10" Kenwood Tsunami subs. And then another 300-watt or so RF amp driving a 12" Tsunami. For the part of the system that makes actual sound and not just vibration, I'll hit Kenwood again for a six-speaker set of two-ways supplmented by another amp, 450-500 watts. And everything will be nicely controlled by a Kenwood head unit and onboard hard drive. I'll need to replace the battery with a performance one from Optima, and slap in at least one capacitator. The amps will be turned low most of the time, because big power sounds better even when you're not using it (and I'm not just making that up, it's true), because the system isn't trying as hard to produce the same level of sound. But when I've got to lower myself to the level of some dumb f*ck with two 12s in his Firebird, I'll have the ability to shake my mirrors...and his.

5. Seats. I hate them. I'll call Recaro and get that straightened out.

But yes...I'm going to put all that sound crap in the trunk. When I remove the back seat, I'll make it all nice and pretty with some carpeting and then use that as my cargo area.

Now! On to why I had to buy a car that had been shipped here from Japan for some other guy!

Enthusiasts--and by "enthusiasts" I mean people who like pushing their cars in any manner of motorsport, not people who watch Pimp My Ride--are not the majority of car buyers (surprise!). I would be deeply surprised if we even made up 10% of the total car-buying population...and bear in mind that even if we're buying a car, we may not be able to afford a sport model, or our wives might make us buy a minivan. Although in all fairness, women are deeply involved in motorsports, too, and they're pretty damn good at it. They just tend to be sensible instead of stupid.

As such, the overwhelming majority of cars that are introduced are not going to be sporty at all. Or even semi-capable. A few might accidentally be designed well enough that they're worth modifying and tuning. Cars like the 1992 Nissan Sentra come to mind when I think about that. Or the 1992-2000 Honda Civic (not the new ones, which are fat and slow and expensive).

Then there are the ones that are good cars, but hampered by the legal department and the bean counters. In this group, I place lovely little things like the Acura RSX Type-S. Great little car, but in Japan (where it's sold as the Honda Integra and comes available in the R-type race package), it's got all kinds of extra goodies. It did bring the K20 engine here to America, but for the most part, it's being held back.

Then there are the magical few good cars. In this list, I place the Mitsubishi EVO, the Subaru WRX STi, the Chevrolet Corvette, the Honda S2000, and a few others. Some--namely, the EVO and the WRX--are really more built for the professional racers. See, in Group N rally, you can only change a few minor things about the cars before you race them, mostly safety and maintenance things. In fact, they have restrictors on the intakes so the cars they race are slower than they were in the showroom. But in the EVO and the WRX, there are all kinds of little performance goodies that never get used in the stock ECU configuration but make a difference in rally. Other cars, like the Corvette, are built because everyone wants one and they've got a tradition to continue. So they accidentally build a decent car.

But for the most part, manufacturers focus on cars that offer a comfortable ride (brick-like handling), good gas economy (glacial acceleration), nice seats (extra weight), and LCD screens for the kiddies (stupidity). And enthusiasts have to put up with them.

Monday, December 19, 2005

The Edge

Doing some thinking lately. And a little drinking...and smoking...and screwing. Consuming life, you might call it, and all of its finer points, things that tend to give me that pleasant chemical cocktail. Yes, thought, reflection, and debauchery: perfect together.

I was talking to a buddy of mine who had the same deal I did: Race, crash, figure out how to operate legs again, get back in a damn car. And another one who got pretty f*cked up in another extreme sport and never went again.

Here's what I've figured out about myself. The guy that went back to racing did it for accomplishment. He wants to win the championships, take home the Driver of the Year Awards, and all that nonsense. Everything is second to that, and until he succeeds, his life is pretty much driven by that. If he never reaches his end goal, his life will be empty.

I am not him. Trophies are dandy, winning championships is cool, but what does that prove? That you and your car were the best that year. Greater drivers came before you, and greater drivers will follow you. Inevitably, there will be better cars than yours. So all that success is really only a temporary thing, and temporary things don't matter.

What I do, the racing, the pushing, and all of's about standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down, and letting the wind blow you just a little bit. Losing your footing for an instant before stepping back. It's about finding that edge, putting yourself in a position where one false move spells the difference between life and whatever comes next. It's about finding out if being on the edge scares you, because if you're scared, it means you really enjoy your life, and value it and everything that comes with it: The nice apartment, the good job, the pretty girlfriend, the fast car.

There was a song a while ago, on a game called Streets of SimCity from Maxis. It was called "Czar", and it was awesome:

Get out of my way
Cuz I'm havin` a bad day
The car's in the driveway
But I'm walkin` sideways
Goin` somewhere, and I'm gonna be first
In front of me, you're gonna get hurt
I don't know you, I couldn't care less
This lane is mine
Don't gimme the road, cuz I'll take it
If I don't get the right of way, I'll make it
Right on red
You're dead
I'm drivin`, that's all you need to know
Can't stop crossing the line
Nothin` in front, who cares what's behind?
Fill it up, check the oil
Eat my dust and like it, little man

I'm here, I'm there
I'm everywhere
I'm on the ground and in the air
There's no tomorrow, just today
If you make me late, you're gonna pay
I pop my clutch, I strip my gears
There's not a thought between my ears
You crash and burn, you scream and shout
You're in my sights, I take you out
I'm in my car, behind the wheel
My engine smokes, my tires squeal
I'm your worst nightmare come to life:
No home, no bills, no kids no wife
You're the czar when you got a kickass car

I melt the streets, I own the road
I set you up and then I unload
I take a drag and swig some booze
Say your prayers, no time to lose
Up in front, to the end I go
I walk the line and spread some woe
So pack your bags and split the scene
It's only me and my machine
I pop my clutch and strip my gears
There's not a thought between my ears
You crash and burn, you scream and shout
You're in my sights, I take you out
I'm in my car, behind the wheel
My engine smokes, my tires squeal
I'm your worst nightmare come to life:
No home, no bills, no kids, no wife
You're the czar when you got a kickass car

The guy that found himself on the edge, tumbled over it, and then never came back was not meant truly meant to seek that particular position. It's better for him now that he's given up: He's back in the place he belongs, with all the other people who value their lives too much to find out if they really do like being alive.

On the other hand, I tumbled over the edge, and I'm going back the next chance I get. And the day I stop being afraid of that edge is the day that my life just isn't worth living.

I do what I do for the same reason people ride roller coasters: To be afraid for a few minutes. The difference is, in the back of their minds, they know they're safe. Roller coasters are very safe machines. A car doing 180 mph isn't very safe at all, no matter how well it's engineered.

Back to that thing about temporary things being worthless...yes, I know I'm jumping around a little, I've had a couple fingers of scotch and I tend to do that. Right now, Lisa and I are just living together. It doesn't matter how close we are, at least not to me. The relationship is still in the "transitory" column.

The problem is, I love this girl to death. And not "I love her ass" or "I love that thing she does" or "I love the way she looks at me". I fucking love her. She's the only person that could tell me to stop racing that I would listen to. My parents already have. A few friends already have. A few professors have told me that it would be a collossal waste of intellect if they had to hose my mind out of a car. While that last one is good for an ego stroke, it has very little effect.

But Lisa...that's a different story.

Which is why I'm considering moving our relationship into the "permanent" column. There's a very nice engagement ring down at the jeweler's.

In my next post, I'll give my first impressions of the Nissan Skyline R34 GT-R V-Spec II, and give everyone a reason why 90% of the cars on the road suck ass.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005


So I'm thinking about getting a new car. Yes, I mean selling the EVO and buying a different car. I love my EVO. But I like other cars better. Lamborghini Gallardos, for one. But I can't afford a damn Gallardo.

However, a Nissan Skyline R34 GT-R V-Spec II is well within my grasp, assuming I sell my finely-tuned EVO. For those of you who have not poked your heads out of the ADM in a few years, this is an R34 GT-R V-Spec II:

Now, the one I might buy (I say might because I'm not yet sure; the EVO is quite a good car, and not as bad on the insurance, although it lacks the instant rep of the Skyline's JDM-only status) is black instead of this queer silver sparkly metalflake. And It's got really nice Konig "Theory" rims that I am so totally keeping. They're not as good as my O-Z ultralight forged racing rims that the EVO wears, but they're a lot prettier, and often am I in a situation where the weight of my damn rims makes a difference? Accelerating 1 pound of wheel weight is like accelerating 1.5 pounds of chassis weight, plus the added funny suspension things heavy rims do. But the Konigs really aren't that much heavier. I'd much rather blow some cash on a superlight flywheel, because accelerating 1 pound of flywheel is like accelerating 30 pounds of car, and sometimes a lot worse.

But yes...I have a buyer lined up for the EVO, I just have to say the word and sign the pink slips. And then I'll have to race every asshole with a Civic Si, but it'll be fun. And I can easily develop 500-hp out of the Skyline's V6, although I'll settle for a lot less because I have to deal with unpleasant things like driving in the rain and snow. And really, I like the Skyline's handling and kickass AWD system a lot better than the EVO's (although the EVO is really quite nice).

Really, the Skyline I've got planned in my head just says something...specifically, "I am a driver and I have purchased the pinnacle of Japanese performance." And once I get her all nice and tuned, she'll be an amazing car. Skylines aer tough to beat stock. One that's been modified to hell and back is just ferocious with the right driver. Not because it's the best at anything, but because it does everything so damn well when it's stock. All the numbers are really quite respectable off the shelf. Add some power, tune the suspension, buy some sticky rubber, work on the drivetrain a little, and you've got a very capable beast that can go toe-to-toe with a Porsche, Ferrari, Lambo, or Masserati under any circumstances and still be comfortable to drive. Perhaps not a Carrera GT, but any other Porsche.

I, on the other hand, will sacrifice a little driveability and go for the Carrera GT's jugular.

It's general image, too. I sell Porsches and Ferraris and Jags and such. I've got to drive something at least as exotic and capable. Sure, I could probly get a Vette and get something with more horsepower off the shelf. But having a Skyline demonstrates a well-rounded concept of what a good car needs to do. It's not just power: It's handling, braking, and style.

Fuck it, I'm getting the damn thing