Nissan 370Z v HSV R8 v Mitsubishi Evo X v Porcshe Cayman S 2009 Comparison

The term 'modest underdog' may have been forged through war and toil to somehow encapsulate the Aussie spirit, but it's a fairly dull way to roll, isn't it? Far more compelling and colourful are those who strut, swagger and talk up a big game.

After all, who would watch a boxing match where, in the pre-fight interview, the challenger offers something like: "Well, Mike, my opponent is much faster, fitter, and hits harder … so I'll just be thankful if I'm not in a coma when I get carried out tomorrow night."

No, the more a contender big-notes their chances, the more eagerly we gather to witness the glory ... or wince at failure.

Introducing Nissan, the current kings of Talking It Up In A Big Way. Or maybe just a company with a massive, Nürburgring-sized axe to grind with Porsche. Either way, when word came through from Japan that Nissan's engineers claimed to have benchmarked their new 370Z against Porsche's Cayman S -- surely the greatest pound-for-pound two-seater sports car on the planet -- the Wheels team was just about up on their desks, throwing air uppercuts and baying for comparo blood to be spilt.

Now, it should be noted that at no stage did Nissan chief product specialist John Yukawa say anything to the effect of, "And not only can our car roll with Cayman S, but it can also outsprint an HSV R8 on the strip, and smack down an Evo X on a race track."

No, we cooked up this bit ourselves, because we thought it sounded like a challenge to which the Zed could rise. The Clubsport R8 is the muscled-up bully boy of straight-line stomp, with enough grunt to shut down just about anything this side of, well, a $155,000 Porsche Cayman S. We reckoned the newly lightened, more powerful Zed, while falling slightly short in terms of power-to-weight ratio, would surely run the R8 close in a dragstrip showdown.

Then there's the Evo -- a podium finisher in every Wheels handling test it has contested. If the Zed could chew a chunk out of the all-wheel-drive tarmac terror, it could hoist a highly-prized scalp.

All that would remain would be for it to prove that the talk of benchmarking against the Cayman S really did come from Nissan's engineering department, not the marketing guys, and the point would be made. The new Zed could be categorically declared 'apex predator' of the automotive world spanning $65K-$160K -- and our work of highlighting its talents would be complete.

Time to get it on.

Each have their strengths in different sections of the track. The Evo is at its best under brakes, turning into corners, and belting out of them with a commendable level of composure, whereas the 370Z generally feels faster in a straight line.

Though both had to deal with the same patchy, moist track conditions, the all-paw Evo certainly felt more composed when it went for a skate on a damp spot. On the other hand, in the 370Z, jumping too hard on the throttle (even in the dry) saw the rear Yokohamas quickly spin free, triggering a lurid but -- thanks to the standard viscous limited-slip diff -- very controllable powerslide.

In a racetrack environment, though, the Nissan does deliver both fun and thrills. There's little sign of subtlety as it goes about its business, although its power is delivered with good linearity and the steering messages come strongly and consistently.

A torsionally stiff chassis, short, bloke-strength gearshift action, and good-enough brakes all add up to a raucous, good-times driving machine rather than one that does everything impeccably well. The Zed is unquestionably for the purist who dares.

The Evo's 217kW doesn't sound world-beating, but the Mitsu boasts a toughness and competence borne out of its rally-honed evolution that can't be underestimated. Its well-sorted chassis, nicely weighted (and quick) steering, and excellent Brembo brakes combine with its turbocharged 366Nm, all-wheel-drive traction and fine SST dual-clutch transmission to deliver a devastatingly effective driving package.

Brake late, turn in, and get back on the accelerator impossibly early and the Evo stops, turns and goes with a gob-smacking efficiency. Its higher centre of gravity when compared with the Zed is no handicap either, as it goes precisely where the driver intends.

That this AWD car has less understeer at the same turn-in speed as the rear-drive 370Z says much about its dynamic prowess. It's even possible to provoke a small degree of power oversteer before a full-throttle application pulls things straight.

Aggravatingly, Mitsubishi doesn't provide paddleshifters that move with the steering wheel. Midway through a corner, when you need to upshift, you're forced to take your right mitt from the tiller to go searching for the paddle, or use your left to tap the shift lever on the console -- both of which destroy the whole reason for having paddles.

Priced below $70,000, this pair offer plenty of zing for the ka-ching. Both have much to offer the enthusiast seeking a road car capable of turning track plaything.

If you want a car for expression sessions involving lots of lurid oversteer, the Zed is your car. But if you want a tool for track days, lap dashes or production racing, the Evo is still the pick. Dry or wet, its competitive credentials are unrivalled.

Its predecessor, the 350Z, had recorded a best to 100km/h of 5.8 seconds and 13.8 for the standing 400 metres. While avoiding specifics, Nissan's Japanese boffins suggest their new charge is easily quicker, capable of 0-100km/h in sub-5.0sec. Our initial seat-of-the-pants impressions heap scorn on that claim, but, even with just 2000km on the odo, the new 370 certainly feels more urgent.

Like Nissan, HSV optimistically claims a sub-5.0-second 0-100km/h time -- 4.96sec to be precise -- for its E-Series range of sedans (Clubsport, Senator and GTS). In reality, we've seen everything from 5.2sec in a GTS to 5.7sec in Clubsport.

Though we're expecting this mismatched pair to deliver similar times, it's impossible to ignore their spec differences. The HSV's 317kW represents 23 percent more power than the Zed's 245kW, but at 1812kg, the Clubbie is 19 percent heavier. Bottom line is similar power-to-weight ratios -- 175kW per tonne for the HSV and 167kW/tonne for the Zed (just 4.5 percent in favour of the HSV).

Despite fat and grippy 275/35 ZR19 Bridgestone Potenzas tucked under the rear guards, the HSV really needs to be babied off the line. Pop the clutch with anything more than 2500rpm showing on the tacho and it will slew sideways in a howling haze of wheelspin. Best technique is to walk the Clubbie off the line with a stuttering of slip before gently feeding in full throttle.

But the biggest challenge in this HSV is finding the elusive third gear. Several fast runs to 100km/h had to be aborted amid much graunching and profanity.

Getting the Zed off the line is fraught with the same traction difficulties; its rear tyres (245/45 R18 Yokohama Advan Sport) are reluctant to take more than 2200rpm off the line. Use lots of revs and the Japanese coupe will mimic the big Aussie with its own smoke show. While more accurate than the recalcitrant Tremec in the R8, the Nissan's gearbox requires huge pressure for a fast shift into second.

Further, the Zed feels a little reluctant to charge past 5500rpm to its 7500rpm redline -- perhaps the engine is still tight.

To 30km/h the Zed and R8 are line ball -- 1.38sec and 1.39 respectively. However, the HSV's torque quickly proves telling. By 60km/h the big sedan has pulled a one-metre advantage (2.70sec to the Zed's 2.77sec) and by 100km/h the Clubbie (5.19sec) is a full eight metres (nearly the length of two Zeds) in front of the Nissan (5.62).

The Clubsport expands its advantage to 400 metres, running a 13.19 pass at a blistering 176km/h; the Zed posts 13.84 at 169km/h. Those six-tenths of one second represent a narrow five percent advantage in favour of the R8, but that's only half the story. Examine the time-to-distance line of the Vbox printout (rather than the time-to-speed) and as the Clubbie crosses the 400-metre mark, the Zed is lagging a full 30 metres -- seven car lengths -- behind.

In the opening salvo, it's Clubsport 1, daylight second...

Equally, one wide-open-throttle attack in the Cayman S along the same stretch is sufficient to remind you why the German sports car costs around twice as much.

This part of the Zed's challenge -- on the road, against a car of the Cayman's pedigree -- was always going to be its toughest. It was Nissan's benchmarking claim that brought us here in the first place, but deep down we knew that, for Zed, just surviving a total towel-up by a car costing $155,000 would be a major achievement.

The moment you slide into the Nissan straight from the Cayman is telling. The driver's hip point in the Japanese coupe is much higher, the driving position less legs-ahead compared with the Porsche. The immediate impression is that the Zed, despite its heritage and credentials, occupies a class that's more sports GT than the pure-sport Porsche.

Yet Zed does not have a relaxed, mile-muncher bone in its body. Away from track and strip, mundane stuff like mechanical and tyre NVH comes into sharp relief. In the case of the Zed, they buzz and buffet. Sure, the 370Z is more refined than its raw, old-school predecessor, which is like saying sandpaper is a more gentle skin exfoliate than a rasp. The 370 is a bit less gritty and agricultural, but sure isn't gilded in a sheen of mechanical polish. The enlarged, more muscular-feeling V6 runs through a transitional zone of grainy coarseness that, in our tight-feeling example, momentarily suggested it would prefer you to upshift and tap the torque curve, rather than visit the 7500rpm redline. It's an effective engine, this one, but in this installation it's really not that characterful or covetable.

The Nissan's steering, slightly quicker on turn-in than that of the Cayman, has reassuring weight and precision, if not its rival's final touch of tactility. There's no problem sniffing out front-end grip levels on the road, though, which quickly brings us to the next issue: the (mandatory) fitment of 18-inch wheels running Yokohama rubber. There's the inescapable feeling that the chassis is ready to be leant on harder, but the front-end grip isn't quite there. In the wet, on roads where run-off is non-existent, it demands caution. Yet the ESP blinks like Oliver Reed's call-button light on a long-haul flight, so even non-Mensa-level drivers will want to work without the net.

Put simply, the Zed's chassis never feels as fully keyed into the surface as that of the Porsche on its (optional) 19-inch Michelins.

Then there's the mid-engined weight distribution, which sees the Cayman pivoting around the driver's hips. It almost encourages you to shimmy in the seat as you coerce each end into the desired angle of attack. Turn in hard, revel in the feelsome steering, the lovely purchase of a secure, grippy front end. Sniff out how far that limit of front-end grip extends – it's way higher than the Nissan's. Now, pick the apex, get hard on the gas, and, ESP off, feel the back end come into play. Stay committed and … not that much happens. Curiously, the Porsche employs the ABS to brake the inside rear wheel which would otherwise spin up, so serious powerslides aren't available without the optional $3000 limited-slip differential. The Zed, in the same conditions, will light up the rear end and allow woo-hoo oversteer angles if space and talent permit.

Yet the Nissan's chassis kicks and bucks over stretches the Cayman deftly navigates with skill and precision. Bumps and ruts that send the Zed into skittishness are caught by the Cayman's chassis as surely as a fast ball slapping into the back of a catcher's mitt. Grip and body control are quickly revealed as the Porsche's key dynamic aces when you drive this pair over the same section of road.

Beyond that, though, the Cayman S is simply such a snug-fitting, well-honed device, there's so much more in which to revel. This is a car that allows you to inhale deeply from the smelling salts of driving pleasure every time the traffic clears. There's a purity, a sense of race-bred DNA – an unburstability – that permeates the Cayman experience.

The creamy, eager flat six, the lovely yowl – part exhaust, part induction – somehow merges into an arm-pumping cheer squad, urging you to bury the right foot and suck up the energy and enthusiasm flooding forth.

The essence of a really sorted car is, when you're totally immersed in cutting up a favourite road, the way it can almost part-dissolve around you, simply delivering on the commands needed to achieve the immediate objective. The Porsche has this quality.
The Zed, as accomplished as it is, does not. In isolation, I like this car a lot. It's better than its predecessor in all the key areas. It inhabits a segment of affordable rear-drive sports muscle that's becoming a ghost town. It's a load of fun, like a chest-wig at a party, and anyone trading out of a hot hatch will be peaking out of their skin. But I don't love it and I doubt I ever could. Not while I know the Cayman exists.

The Cayman S is a car that may never draw the reverence heaped upon Porsche's cornerstone model. Its greatest 'shortcoming', if it can be termed that, is being born into a family where the 911 is its older brother. Its sales, due surely in part to pricing that sees it more expensive than its soft-top sibling, have it curbed to a curio, rather than a default choice. The Boxster on which it's based is a brilliant convertible, no question. But the Cayman is a Boxster with all the screws tightened and instincts sharpened. If you're buying a Porsche because you seriously crave Porsche qualities, the hardtop Cayman easily compensates for not giving you tanning time. It's not a 911 lite. No, in manual form in its latest incarnation, it's a brilliant, joyous, embraceable sports car with its own unique feel and values. Its accommodation demands you bring only the pal or girlfriend, not the family, but it rewards in return.

It doesn't dance around at the front in deference to wacky weight distribution, it doesn't demand guru skill levels to drive it by the scruff of the neck. It just digs in and does.

The Zed, by virtue of its price, can claim a moral victory here, and we should thank the Cayman S for helping it raise its game. But this final element of our test is proof that there are no shortcuts, and no; you can't cut a giant-killer from Zed cloth.
But you can wear a very fast jacket. The breadth of the 370Z's skills – quick in both a straight line and around a circuit; entertaining on the road – means it can lay claim as an apex predator in both senses of the term. However, despite our best efforts to prove otherwise, the territory it rules is well south of $100K ... not north of it.