Cars are staging and you look for the least intimidating ride to cut in front of. Stressing more than O.J. missing a brown leather glove, the last thing you need is a car on your bumper during your hot lap. Pulling up behind you is a stock-looking white coupe, an R34 Nissan GT-R. It's a stout platform, however compared to the rest of the beasts in your run group, the Nissan looks about as intimidating as Nicole Ritchie in a string bikini. No crazy body kit, full interior, quiet exhaust and a rock-steady idle. Your mind quickly calculates a stock RB26-power-to-Skyline-weight ratio and you register a small but confident smile. Today, you will spank a GT-R.
Qualifying begins and your run group slowly spills onto the track. You glance in the rearview mirror and notice the shrinking fascia of the once-menacing GT-R. Nearing the end of the first lap, you can't help the stifled grin growing in your helmet-you're approaching the media and spectator-packed front straight, and you're pulling on a Skyline.
Cheeee! The surprisingly close whistle of a blow-off valve cuts through your mental end-zone breakdance. A check to your mirrors turns up empty. No GT-R. Confused, you brake late into the first turn. Understeer takes over. You fight it by overcompensating with the steering wheel and then you see it. A white blur emerging from your blindspot. It's the R34. As you correct, you read the scribbled handwriting on the door: Mine's. "No wonder it looked factory," you scream as it rounds the corner and speeds off.
Finding a capable tuner in Japan is like finding a shoulder-bag toting, Mac using, scruffy-haired hipster in a coffee shop. There's one on almost every block. And like the dozens of different roasts a local barrista serves up, each tuner has their own distinct flavor: color, body, balance, complexity and aftertaste. However, only one builds rides cleaner than a smooth Kona blend.