Driving A Nissan GT-R Made Me Understand The Fanboy Love

If you were to pick one car which divides the car community the most, the R35 Nissan GT-R would surely be a strong candidate. Its detractors say its ugly, too heavy, too easy to drive fast, overloaded with electronic nonsense and massively overhyped. The car’s defenders, meanwhile, point out that it’s hugely fast, extraordinarily capable, and - considering the performance and price - quite possibly the bargain of the century. Me? I hadn’t decided either way, until now.

The GT-R is never a car I’ve found myself lusting after; it’s always struck me as something that’s going to be a little excessive for real-world road driving. The porky aesthetic isn’t what I’d call attractive, and turbocharged V6s aren’t the sort of engines that get me excited.

The 45th Anniversary test car I’ve just been handed the keys to isn’t doing anything to change my opinion on the looks front - I’m not a fan of the Champagne Gold paint and grey wheel combo - but I’m more interested in how it drives. After opening the door with its funky handle and getting comfortable behind the wheel, it’s time to find out.

I’m fairly limited on time; I’m staying with Nissan at Le Mans, and only have the morning before the famous 24 hour race to get some driving impressions on local roads. After a few frustrating turns that lead me towards roads closed for the race, I’ve at last found a good, clear strip of tarmac.

I’ve driven this car for one of the stints down to Circuit de la Sarthe - as well as piloting the very same R34 Skyline GT-R we featured in the video below - but only on boring, congested motorways, with only the occasional chance to punt it. So, I know it’s quick, but not what it’s like on a squiggly bit of tarmac. It doesn’t take long to get my answer: it’s an utter weapon.

Without an expansive motorway around me, the acceleration is even more dramatic. The right-hand pedal isn’t really an accelerator, it’s a fuse. There’s a slight delay, and then when the rev counter hits 3000rpm, a bomb goes off.

It’s all well and good spouting the oft-quoted 0-62mph time of 2.8 seconds, but that doesn’t adequately describe the fury of the 3.8-litre twin-turbo V6 as it hurls you forwards with absolute traction and sheer savagery. I can’t properly relate the way it relentlessly surges forwards, interrupted only by the briefest of moments as the twin-clutch gearbox rapidly swaps cogs. This is a car that can get you in trouble. Very quickly.

This ballistic pace continues when the going gets twisty. I trust the car more and more with each corner as I learn just what it’s capable of. There’s little that can trouble the GT-R. The damping is superb, allowing for the Nissan’s 1740kg to feel utterly stable no matter how hard you provoke it. And the grip is almost endless.

The closest I get to successfully aggravating the GT-R is a little sidewards step from the rear-end - induced via a poke of the throttle mid-corner - but the car isn’t phased. The four-wheel drive system sorts it all out and straightens up, spitting me out the other side of the corner at a manic rate.

“When you consider this 542bhp, 463 lb ft monster on four wheels costs £78,000, the value seems as shocking as the pace”

I’m finding the steering reassuringly heavy, but not excessively so. Feedback from the front tyres is decent, too. But what of the accusations that this car is just a bit too tech-heavy in the way it drives? Rubbish, I say.

Sure, the GT-R may be stuffed full of electronics, but the overall vibe of this car is a mechanical one, and a hefty one at that. When you’re being particularly silly, you can feel the four-wheel drive system redistributing the torque long before any electronic nannying kicks in. Yes, perhaps it is a tad easy to drive, but it always offers an involving drive.

Moreover, there’s something reassuring about the way the diffs clunk and bang as you manoeuvre the thing at low speeds. It all feels very industrial-grade, and I like that.

When you consider this 542bhp, 463 lb ft monster on four wheels costs £78,000, the value seems as shocking as the pace. And this is a car you could use every day; when the suspension’s not in full-on angry mode it rides comfortably, there’s a usable(ish) boot, and it’ll just about seat four people. A Porsche 911 Turbo S may be as fast and tick all the same boxes, but it’s not far off twice as expensive. A Porsche will always have more kudos, but who gives a damn about badge snobs?

Not everything’s perfect with the GT-R, of course. The interior is looking dated now, and comes complete with a rather naff navigation system. Also, rear visibility is pretty shocking. But, I reckon I’d quite happily live with these foibles given everything else the R35 offers.

With my time up, I turn around and head back for the inevitable traffic jam going into the circuit, where I’ll watch the R35’s partial namesake (the GT-R LM Nismo, above) try its luck in one of motorsport’s most celebrated events. This seems particularly fitting, what with elements of the radical front-wheel drive racer - like the engine and recovery systems, not the drive layout, don’t panic - potentially influencing design of the R35’s replacement.

In the end, the race didn’t pan out brilliantly for the Nissan team, with persistent reliability issues resulting in just one of the three entries finishing, and finishing so far off the winning Porsche that it wasn’t actually a classified finish. It’s still very early days for the car, and I’ve no doubt Ben Bowlby and the team will be much stronger at Le Mans 2016.

The same can’t be said for the R35, which is firmly established as a giant killer. If this makes me sound like I’m a bit of a fanboy, I don’t care, as the GT-R has pretty much turned me into one. And if you get the chance to take one for a drive, I’ve no doubt you’ll become a fanboy too.