My good friend Mark was in the hunt for a replacement to his Infiniti G35 last summer. We spent many evenings talking about (read: drinking beer) what he wanted to replace it with. He was wanting something more powerful, better handling and overall just “nicer” than the G. Naturally, in a sedan or a coupe, this points right to a BMW M3. At the time, I was working for a used car dealership that happened to deal with a lot of BMWs and felt this to be a good choice. There’s nothing wrong with an M3. They’re fast, they look great and as far as practical speed goes, they can’t be beat.
My problem with them is that they’re everywhere. And God, are they boring. I respect them for what they do, but I’ve never wanted one.
Mark had a pretty sizable budget to work with, so I told him to stretch it another couple thousand dollars and look at something truly special. Not just a sports car, but a car that would make the hairs on your neck stand up at wide-open throttle and would tingle your fingers around every corner. Something I had a lot of experience with, owning one for four years. The car I’d lusted after since I was fifteen years old.
An Acura NSX.
Mark called me crazy. Now, to put this in perspective, you have to learn one key thing. Mark is about nine feet tall. Him fitting in an NSX would be absolute comedy.
Fortunately for him, I’d planted a bug. I extolled the virtues of owning a car that is absolutely amazing in every way. I kept on him every chance I had and by June of last summer he called me one day and said “I’m going to look at an NSX in town. If I fit, I’m buying one.” I thought it was great. Later that day, he called me back to tell me the great news.
He fit.
We tore the internet apart looking for a car. I used mine as a baseline. My car was a 1991 model, Formula Red and a Coupe. Mark wanted a 1997 or later model, since those came with bigger and more powerful engines and a new gearbox. And they were all Targa tops, which he wanted. I knew what to look for in the cars and helped him along. He wanted a white car, which narrowed the search quite a bit. Even though they were produced for fifteen years, NSXs are a rare breed: Less than 15,000 were built in that time and only half of them ended up in North America.
Finally, after a month of searching, he found what he was looking for. A beautiful Grand Prix White 1998 NSX-T in Vancouver. As a nice bonus, it had been retrofitted with the 2002 front end, bringing it right in line with modern styling. Quick phone calls were exchanged, lies were told to bosses, supervisors, friends and families and at 6:30 on Friday night, Mark, Greg Seimens and I piled into Mark’s Nissan Pathfinder and hit the road.
We were all caught up in the excitement of the trip. I mean, how awesome is it to road trip 1500+ kilometers on two days’ notice to pick up a supercar? No one felt like we’d all worked during the day and had been running since 6 am. We rolled into Jasper at around 10 o’clock that night and hit The Downstream for food and beer. As a frequent visitor to Jasper myself, I highly recommend it.
Greg took over the driving duties since he’d caught a little sleep on the way in. The plan was a bombrun all the way to Vancouver in one night, so we’d be swapping driving and sleeping in the car. I quickly took the back seat, reclined it and shut my eyes.
When I woke up, it was still pitch black. Mountains could be seen in the starlight, but other than that it was just the glare of high-beams. I woke up to shitty music and realized that meant Mark was back driving and looking pretty weary. Rifling through the garbage that had accumulated in a short eight hour span, I latched onto a RedBull and drank away. Twenty minutes later and feeling mostly human again, I told Mark to pull over and I’d grab the wheel. I took over just past Clearwater and set the cruise for a quick 140 km/h, trusting Greg’s radar detector to keep the Mounties at bay.
A gas, piss and chocolate bar/RedBull stop in Kamloops sent Mark back to the driver’s seat, me back in shotgun and Greg to the backseat. Mark put the hammer down, but we finally succumbed to fatigue around 4 am in Hope, B.C. Hope is about the size of my computer desk, so scrounging up the sheistiest motel you’ve ever seen wasn’t hard. Sixty bucks and ten minutes later the three of us racked out for the night, with alarm clocks set for an optimistic 6:30 am.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!!!
Sweet Jesus. I swear my head just hit the pillow. Judging by the looks of everyone else, I guessed they were feeling the same way. A half hour for morning mechanics and we were back on the road. A quick gas and breakfast stop before we left Hope behind. We all felt refreshed and excited about the day ahead. Driving through the outskirts of Greater Vancouver took us through nice communities like Abbotsford, New Westminster and Maple Ridge.
At 10 am, we finally arrived at the dealership.
The three of us came in through the door as one. And were promptly greeted by Bentleys, Ferraris, Lamborghinis and other exotics. Not too shabby of a place! Mark had been on the phone with them earlier in the day to set up our meeting and make everything go smoothly. The salesman took us around back to where Mark’s NSX was waiting.
And wow, was it perfect.
We looked the car over, inside and out, checking for damage, shoddy paint, poor fitment (!) or anything else that caught our eyes. Mark looked at me and said “You owned one. Take it for a drive and let me know.”
Keys, please!
Now, a little fun fact here. When the door is open and the ignition key is in, there’s four rapid chimes. It repeats the four chimes until the key is out, or the door is closed. The fun fact is that the four chimes is Morse Code for “H”. Honda.
Key in, clutch in, ignition on…. Gauges come alive, lights illuminate and extinguish and twist. The starter motor is right behind your head on this car and you can hear it loud and clear. Two or three revolutions and the motor caught. In my opinion, there is no other V-6 that sounds as nice as this. In a heartbeat, I truly missed my old car. Memories of my epic roadtrip to buy it came flooding back. I hadn’t driven or even rode in one since I had sold mine and it was a bittersweet moment. The salesman popped in the passenger seat as I scanned the gauges, making sure everything was working and letting the temperature gauges come up. Clutch in and out a couple times and right there I noticed the first difference. The newer ones lack the twin-plate clutch that the ’91-’96 models had. When the car is in neutral, the clutch plates rattled and it was one of my favorite NSX quirks.
First gear, clutch out and away we go. No power steering in this, just like it should be. Road feedback is immediate and intimate through the wheel. I pulled to the end of the lot and waited for traffic to clear. Traction control off, because it’s for pussies, and I pulled gently into traffic.
Kidding. Much to the salesman’s surprise, I revved the motor to about 6,000 RPM and dumped the clutch. The car launched forward, sideways with squealing tires and a handful of opposite lock. An 8,200 RPM shift to 2nd sent the back tires scrambling for traction. God, how this motor sounds. It hits its VTEC cam lobes at 5,700 RPM and the noise is outrageous. Go on YouTube and you’ll agree with me. Coming through 5,000 RPM in 3rd gear I realized I was doing about 170 km/h in a 60 zone and jabbed the brakes. I went around the block a few times checking the brakes, steering, gearbox and anything else I could think of. Ten minutes later, I pulled back into the dealership and told Mark “If you don’t buy it, I will.”
Mark slipped into the drivers seat, somehow folding his body into the confines of the car. Twenty minutes later, he was back. With a big smile on his face, he walked into the dealership to finish up the paperwork. Greg and myself killed off the time looking around, playing in Lamborghinis and Ferraris, taking pictures and finding some questionable spelling on boxes.
All said and done, a painless buying experience.
As we left the dealership, a quick phone call to a friend in Kelowna secured us both a party spot for the night and a place to sleep. Lunch beckoned and we made our way from south Vancouver towards the north shore, heading to the Sea To Sky highway. The Sea to Sky is a beautiful ribbon of pavement that skirted the ocean all the way to Whistler and makes for some great pictures. We stopped for food at a great little ocean-side restaurant who’s name escapes me. I do remember that the food was delicious, so I feel bad that I can’t remember what the place was called. A quick phone call to my parents to brag that I was in Vancouver and we continued onwards towards Whistler, stopping again at the Horseshoe Bay marina for more pictures. Hanging out of the sunroof in the Pathfinder, I snapped away at the NSX. People stared at me, then realized why I was halfway out of a truck at 120 km/h and nodded their approval.
I climbed into the NSX with Mark for the drive back into Vancouver, leaving Greg alone in the Pathy. We rolled through Vancouver at a decent pace, heading for our overnight in Kelowna. This was my first time in a Targa NSX, and I loved it. I’d always thought the Coupe was the better version, but I take that back now. With the roof on, it was almost as quiet as the Coupe. With it off, it was freeing; a near convertible sensation. The windshield header does shake a bit, but it’s worth it. Windows up and the roof off, we hit the highway pointed east for home. Somehow, even lowered on coilovers like it was, the NSX makes a great GT car. My trip home was 2700 miles in 3 days and I loved it. There’s plenty of room for two people to
stretch out and you can be comfortable in the car for long, long hours of driving.
Unfortunately for me, Greg developed a massive vaginal infection and claimed he couldn’t drive the Pathfinder anymore. How the driver’s seat hurt his back but the identical passenger seat didn’t remains beyond me to this day. With Mark understandably refusing to give up the NSX, that left me driving the truck. Fuuuu! I was sure I was getting duped here.
Also, much to my dismay, the Pathy was governed to a meager 170 km/h. With Mark and Greg blasting away on the two lane roads in excess of 200 km/h, I was left in the dust. I knew in my own experience that the NSX will top out around 270 km/h, so I had no hope of keeping up. Every five minutes or so, I’d catch up and then they’d be off again, passing cars with a capability that the Nissan simply didn’t have. Truth be told, it’s a great truck to drive, but considering the alternative, I was pretty choked!
Five hours later, after periods of driving like complete shitheads, we rolled into Kelowna for the night. We met up with Jayson at his condo right downtown, tossed our bags in his place and hit the road, searching for the nearest Joey’s. Chili chicken was calling my name, and I’ll be damned if I wasn’t eating some that night. I also ditched the Pathy for a fantastic alternative: Jay’s decked out Nismo 350Z. Finally, back in something fun to drive!! And with the NISMO exhaust, another car that absolutely howled to redline. This car is absurdly, oh-my-God-the-end-of-the-world-is coming, loud. If you’ve never been to Kelowna, it’s a dream town. It’s small, on the lake and full of beautiful women. Driving around in two screaming cars is attention whoring at it’s best, and we were no exception. It’s also incredibly good fun.
Chili chicken was bought and eaten and the four of us ditched the cars back at Jay’s condo and the search for beer began. We found a great little pub upstairs just off Ellis Street and made our way through a few pitchers. Knowing we had another nine hours of driving ahead of us kept the partying pretty tame and we walked back to Jay’s and racked out.
Morning brought more groaning about the hour and me waking up next to Greg. It’s terrifying.
After some disgusting McDicks for breakfast, we thanked Jayson for the hospitality and bid him adieu. As it was, I was back in the Pathy, iPhone plugged in and pounding out tunes to keep me awake. On our way back up highway 97 towards Jasper, we came across a very familiar looking Evo X. Sure enough, it was Curtis, sitting on the side of the road. Mark and I pulled the cars over and we went to talk to him and see what’s up. With an embarrassed shrug, he just said “outta gas…” I laughed. I mean, how can’t you? But finding 94 octane out here is a pain in the ass, so I understand how it happens. As it turned out, he was also traveling by convoy and had sent a car ahead to grab some gas in a Jerry can. We said our good-byes and good lucks and carried on our merry way.
As darkness fell, we rolled back through Jasper, wanting food. Forgoing the Downstream, we hit up the Dead Dogg for burgers and a beer. After my constant bitching, Greg agreed to suck it up and take the Pathfinder over for a little while.
360 kilometers to go.
With over 1800 kilometers traveled in the past two days, I was getting antsy to get home. Radar detectors on full alert we hit the highway hard, cruising at over 90 miles an hour, sucking up the miles and spitting them out with no remorse. Approaching the RCMP pit that is Hinton, we slowed to the limit, crawled through and as soon as we left the city limits, mashed the gas and started swallowing miles again.
The dark sky slowly grew lighter as the lights of Edmonton reflected off the clouds. I’m not a huge fan of Edmonton, but it’s nice to be home, wherever that may be. Greg lives out in Stony Plain and we dropped him off there, with myself resuming driving duties in the Pathfinder. Driving through town on a beautiful July night, I left the Pathy at Mark’s condo, threw my bag in the trunk of the NSX and climbed in. We did a quick tour around town, doing the cruise down Whyte Ave looking for girls to ogle and cars to admire. Finally, running out of road, Mark turned north into St. Albert and headed for my place.
I feel the word “epic” is very overused, but it does sum up this trip. No one knew what we were doing, why we were all in Vancouver or what we were getting. I’d created a thread on our local car forum (www.780tuners.com) and it was abuzz with speculation of what we were getting. No one was disappointed.
Three days. 2300 kilometers. One amazing car. This is what they’re built for. Driving.
