Honda NSX and Targa Tasmania: Replicating history

Making a mark

Some things in life simply aren’t destined for mediocrity.

Take Honda’s original NSX supercar. At its launch in the early 1990s, the Japanese firm’s mid-engined supercar humbled the exotic powers of the time and put Honda on a pathway to prosperity.

The NSX was an instant hit. Not only that, it redefined the very definition of a supercar, eschewing cantankerous character traits and hard-to-reach limitations for a more rounded and approachable skill set.

The original NSX resisted the voguish V12 engines favoured by its supercar brethren and instead employed a humble V6. It also did away with finicky scissor doors and cantankerous ergonomics, instead introducing the ‘cascade’ dashboard design since imitated by many supercars.

In 1992, the NSX met its match. It wasn’t from a rivalling manufacturer, but a young Tasmanian car dealer who harboured a similar conviction to avoid the cookie-cutter existence.

Launceston’s Greg Crick was fresh from his success in the Australian Sports Sedan title a year earlier, and held close to him a deep-burning ambition to win a new tarmac rally race to be known as Targa Tasmania.

Together, the NSX and Crick took on the established superpowers of the day – Honda, the likes of Ferrari’s F40 and BMW’s M5, and in Crick’s case, Formula 1 world champions Jack Brabham and Denny Hulme – and won.

It was a huge turning point for man and machine. And together, they backed it up by winning Targa the following year.

Now, 27 years later, the opportunity awaits to revisit the backdrop of Crick’s and Honda’s triumphs -- stunning Tasmania.

We have both parties on hand and, for good measure, we’ve accompanied them with the new incarnation of NSX together with a similarly green-tinged driver (your correspondent) for a trip down memory lane.

The gentleman’s racer

The motor racing fraternity and even Honda clearly didn’t expect a budding businessman to be the poster boy for either Targa Tasmania or the new NSX back in 1992.

To be fair, the only person really convinced of Greg Crick’s abilities at the time was probably the man himself.

“I just wanted it so bad,” Crick says of his inaugural Targa victory. “I believed that I could do it deep down, and I desperately wanted to achieve my dream.”

Crick did achieve his dream.

Paul Gover, a motoring journalist familiar with the original Targa event, remembers Crick being on a mission. The tight-knit racing community soon took notice.

“In that time no-one knew who Cricky was. He suddenly became an overnight hero in what was essentially a stock-standard car with lap/sash seatbelts and no roll cage,” Gover remembers.

“If Crick won one Targa, that would have been good -- but he won two, back-to-back.

“It gave more credibility to the event because it wasn’t so predictable. It also became a launching pad for Crick -- I think most people tipped him as having zero per cent chance of winning that first attempt.

“The other thing to think about is that the success came at a time when the NSX had zero competition pedigree in Australia. Crick’s victory lent it more credibility.

“Before Crick’s victory, the NSX was seen by some Australian enthusiasts as a Civic; it had no soul.”

Fast-forward to 2018 and the same cannot be said of Crick, whose omnipresent charm and wit are readily on-hand when we meet at a Launceston café on the first morning of the drive.

“Hollywood! How are you?” comes his welcoming gesture as I approach the table. I’m still coming to terms with the nickname – and am not 100 per cent sure of the origins – but I’ll take it. An expression of endearment from Crick is as good as one can ever hope for.

The nickname ‘Hollywood’ is a little ironic coming from Crick, who himself appears as though he has spent some time in LA’s bright lights.

Slicked-back hair, black suede boots and first-class presentation precede a man who clearly takes care of himself. And one whose steering talent is as strong as ever.

There is a whiff of race car driver about Crick today, despite him formally calling time on a decorated career in 2015. Once a racer always a racer, or so the term goes.

Crick’s racing resume reads impressively. Among a list of career highlights are the 1992 and 1993 Targa Tasmania victories, the 1991 Australian Sports Sedan Championship and the 2006 Australian GT Championship.

Crick was also a leading privateer in the Australian Touring Car Championship and Bathurst 1000, and scored a third place finish in the 2002 V8 Supercars Development Series.

Crick bowed out on a high, driving an Erebus Mercedes SLS to a podium finish in the 2014 Bathurst 12 Hour after a tense battle with ex-F1 driver Mika Salo. He retired shortly after.

A local’s guide

If his business interests suddenly turned awry, Crick would almost certainly cut it as a Tasmanian tourism ambassador.

His knowledge of the landscape and his affinity with the people makes it feel as though you’re being led around by the mayor of Launceston.

In no time, Crick devises a loose plan to head for the hills, covering well-known Targa stages including the Sideling and onwards to the quaint township of Scotsdale and beyond.

The roads dissect the open valleys outside of Launceston before meandering into the mountains, offering drivers a mix of surfaces, varying corners and speed. The backdrop is simply incredible, not that Targa Tasmania competitors have much opportunity to bask in its natural beauty.

At the wheel of the original NSX, one begins to imagine the potential for regular ‘moments’ along such high-speed and occasionally treacherous Targa sections. Especially in a road car without harnesses or a roll cage.

“There were times were my navigator ended up across the cabin on top of me, with his navigating books and everything. We were in lap/sash seatbelts and standard seats that first year,” Crick reminisces.

Crick famously beat Brabham to overall victory at Targa -- something he attributes to his preference for the manual transmission NSX, among other things. Brabham’s lower-powered automatic NSX seemed as though it would offer a streamlined driving experience through corners, but Crick had all the answers.

On this day, the manual NSX cannot keep sight of the model that eventually replaced it. Its modest 201kW/284Nm outputs and five-speed manual are a decidedly more driver-dependent combination, in a vehicle Crick concedes was a “better road car than track car in its day”.

The original NSX’s only known fault was the brakes, according to Crick, particularly its knack for warping discs. Fortunately, our red number with 188,000km on the clock mitigates the problem with slotted discs and aftermarket callipers.

That aside, the only real buzzkill in the old model is its young driver, your correspondent. Unashamedly accustomed to the modern safety net of stability control, yaw monitoring systems and even ‘drift’ enabling systems, I suddenly feel vulnerable at the interface of the 27-year-old NSX.

Initial observations of lumpy steering, non-functioning anti-lock brakes and a mechanical premise to the controls are compounded by the fact our loaner is a good-faith gesture from its owner, Targa Tasmania director Les Smith.

There’s a time and place and this isn’t it.
On the first few attacks at a hill climb, the NSX penalises me for trying to drive it like a modern car: trail brake, apply moderate turn in and a boot full of accelerator as I wind off lock.

It understeers at the slightest hint of premature acceleration, it bobbles and weaves, its steering requires concise, accurate input. The trick, Crick reckons, is being smooth.

“For a racetrack, you could argue the original was a little soft. For a road course, it was perfect,” he says.

“You’ve got to get your technique right to get the most out of the car. You need to be smooth. It carries a lot of corner speed through faster corners, and on the slow stuff you’ve just got to know how to balance it on the throttle and drive it.

“If you braked it in, yanked on the steering and then got straight on the gas, you’d be doing all of it wrong.”

Heeding Crick’s advice is pivotal. Suddenly the roads begin to flow, the car builds rhythm and speed and everything clicks.

The realisation arrives: the original NSX didn’t employ an electronic safety net – it had a brilliantly communicative chassis and well-mated engine to do that for you.

Approaching the end of the first day, rejoicing in every second at the helm of the original car, something dawns on me. I’m yet to turn a wheel in the new model. Crick had rushed straight for its keys on every occasion.

It soon turns into a running joke. “You want to drive my car, Hollywood?” laughs Crick. “I guess I should let you.”

The new guard

Thumbing the start button of the NSX sequel tells you a lot about how far the badge has come.

There is no instant parp or rasp from its 3.0-litre twin-turbocharged V6, but merely the sound of a faint whirr as its electric motors glide the car away from a standstill.

The numbers on display are incredible and demonstrate the NSX more as an entry-level hypercar than ‘just’ a supercar.

The internal combustion engine, which features dry-sump lubrication, makes 375kW and 500Nm. The rear-mounted electric motor contributes another 148Nm while the dual motors up front add 73Nm, making for a total output of 427kW and 646Nm across the four driven wheels.

Of course, with batteries and electric motors comes weight. Some 130kg worth of weight, contributing to a kerb total of 1800kg.

This car is dripping with the latest technology, including an aluminium spaceframe chassis, carbon-fibre floor and body shell, and carbon-ceramic brakes. A real technological flagship.

Alas, the second-generation NSX sings from the same well-mannered song sheet as the original, with conventional doors, a user-friendly interface, brilliant outward vision and comfortable, compliant suspension.

Acceleration is rapid from any point on the tacho and from any speed, the electric motors providing the initial shove before internal combustion equation arrives to the party and sends you hurtling towards the horizon.

On Tasmania’s incredible road network, that would ordinarily spell bad news, but all-wheel drive grip, quick and concise steering and excellent chassis balance endow the 1800kg slugger with incredible direction changes and telepathic turn-in response.

More than that, the added mumbo and performance is delivered with a digitalised veneer, one that protects the driver even when they’ve pushed past their own limits.

It’s almost too easy. The new NSX feels unflinching in the company of the original.

Whereas the old car uses a communicative chassis and mechanical nous to instill its driver with confidence, the new car does all that and further inflates its driver’s ego with a hugely competent electronic driver aid suite.

One surprise to emerge from the newcomer are some uncharacteristic rattles through its interior. At first we suspected it was a symptom of American manufacturing, but Honda Australia insisted it was the result of 7000km worth of “hard track kilometres”.

Either way, there are more rattles in the new car than in the old.

Crick has tightened the reigns during his time in the original car, but for all his charm and sensitivity, he can still drive like a man possessed. Give him a sniff of a good corner, and even today, he’ll attack it with gusto.

Regular photography stops interrupt the spectacular roads, and with those come introductions to more people that Crick has met over the years. From beer-sipping tradies looking to take advantage of one of the area’s spectacular vistas, to Launceston’s more successful businessmen and women.

It gives some background to a man that has tried a hand at many things in life, from transport businesses and car dealerships to various forms of aviation licences.

We drive back into Launceston to end a couple of magic days. Crick is beaming after another steer of the modern NSX remake, a car he confesses to wanting to own if not for its $420,000 price tag.

The obvious question looms. “If Honda approached you and offered you a steer of the new NSX at next year’s Targa Tasmania, would you consider it?” I ask, picturing the ultimate re-creation.

A wry smile warms over Cricks face. “Absolutely,” he says. “It would be a dream come true.”