Nissan GT-R 2008 Review

One-hundredth of a second beyond seven minutes and 46 seconds, there lies a significant benchmark for production cars. It's the Hillary Step on the Everest of automotive achievement - a point beyond which only the most adventurous engineers and daring drivers will get to write their names.

You see, 7:46.011 is a 100-mile-per-hour (161km/h) lap of the Nürburgring Nordschleife.

Unlike Everest, the 20.832 kilometres of twisting, twitching, torturous circuit in Germany's Eifel Mountains has few names this near the summit of its timesheets. About two dozen 'production cars' have proved themselves capable of surpassing a 100mph lap average. At least a quarter of these have been featherweight specials and aftermarket tuner cars.

The rest is a roll-call of supercars and strato-cars: Bugatti, Koenigsegg, McLaren, Pagani, Ferrari, Porsche and Lamborghini, along with the Corvette Z06 and Ford GT. And the air's much thinner beyond seven-forty: there's only Porsche's Carrera GT 997 GT3 and GT2, a Pagani and a Koenigsegg.

Oh - and at 7:38, there's now a Nissan.

Wheels' story on the GT-R from November called the lap-time wrong by one second. In fact, there was still some wriggle-room in Nissan's numbers when we drove the car at - but not on - the Nürburgring in late September.

Three lightly disguised GT-Rs were spending yet another 10-day session under the watchful eye of GT-R chief engineer, Kazutoshi Mizuno: "We are working on VDC setting, transmission, smooth gear change, autobahn high-speed stability, autobahn ride comfort," he said. "Not only for lap time!"

With more Nürburgring tests scheduled for a month after the car's October launch, the key numbers had shaken out at 353kW at 6400rpm, and 588Nm from 3200-5200rpm. Kerb weight is 1740kg, but the haunched, solid-looking body boasts an ultra-slippery Cd of 0.27. Nissan claims 0-100km/h in a staggering 3.5 seconds, and a top speed of 310km/h.

Equally important to Mizuno is how the GT-R does everything. Front seat occupants can converse at 300km/h without raising their voices. Two kids fit in the back. Two golf bags go in the boot. It has four-wheel drive, so rain won't trouble it. The suspension can sit in Normal mode, the lightning quick, double-clutch tranny can schlep around in auto.

A 911 Turbo won't do that, at twice the price. And even less, for much more, a Pagani or a Koenigsegg.

The R35 GT-R turned out even better than Nissan boss Carlos Ghosn had ordered. Ghosn set a Nürburgring target of below 7:50 for the car, it perhaps being no coincidence that the Porsche 996 GT3 and 996 Turbo (contemporaries during the R35's prolonged development) were four to six seconds outside that. Of all the GT-R's unnamed rivals, the silence rings loudest around the 911 Turbo.

The new GT-R exists because Ghosn wanted it and Nissan needed it. "When I arrived in Japan in 1999 our company was struggling," he told Wheels. "Our product line-up, particularly in Japan, was made of 40 different cars ... only three of them were profitable. One of the three was the GT-R - and it was the most profitable, in terms of operating margin.

"I told the engineers, 'I don't care when you will be coming with the next car, but I want it to be very strong'," Ghosn added. "If it takes three years, four years, that's not the issue. But the day that we come with the GT-R, it's gonna have to wow everybody."

He means "everybody." Aside from 100 R32s brought to Australia, no previous GT-R was ever officially sold outside of Japan. The new car is a true international model, having gone on sale in Japan in December, with the US and Europe to follow.

Previous GT-Rs have shared platforms and components with rear-drive Skyline siblings, but the R35 is a stand-alone supercar. Its platform, body, engine, transmission and suspension are all unique. With no garden-variety model to defray its costs, and production planned at a modest 1000 units per month, the value story looks too good to be true. And yet, Ghosn insists that it will make money.

"We are blessed by the fact that Japan today is very competitive, because of the exchange rate," he says. "It's gonna be a profitable car. Obviously, the margin that we will be making on this car is not at the level of the much more expensive cars ... I'm not making 30 percent margin on it. Which is probably the margin that some of our competitors are doing."

Nowhere does the GT-R obviously skimp on advanced design or exotic materials. Highlights around the chassis include an innocuous-looking, black bib around the engine bay; in fact, it's a rigid, carbonfibre-reinforced plastic structure that bolts directly to large, die-cast aluminium front suspension tower sections that extend back to the firewall.

Seen the pics of a GT-R hiking an inside front wheel at the Nürburgring? Mizuno has seen four tonnes of vertical force recorded at the outside front wheel. Just as importantly, however, the combination of carbonfibre bib, steel front crossmember, then the die-cast aluminium towers and firewall - and, ultimately, die-cast aluminium door frames - offer an excellent energy-absorption path.

Externally, aluminium is used for the bonnet, door skins and boot, with the roof in steel.

Weight, along with compactness, was the main reason for a twin-turbo V6 (despite the GT-R's long history of inline sixes). I rode a while with Tomoyuki Hara, the chief powertrain engineer who's worked a full four years on the R35, having previously designed the original R32's ATTESA E-TS 4WD system and the R33's active, limited-slip differential. "I forget the actual number," Hara shrugged, "but if you compare the R34 powertrain system - engine, transmission, transfer, all - this new one is lighter."

The GT-R's static front/rear balance is 52/48 percent, but the exploitation of aerodynamics is claimed to level out the forces at higher speeds.

The wet-sump V6 saves three kilos alone in having no cylinder liners; instead, the bores are sprayed with a 0.15mm plasma coating. The twin IHI turbochargers also save weight by being integrated into the exhaust manifolds. They're said to max at 0.7bar boost, but curiously, the gauge is calibrated to 1.5bar.

And if anything goes wrong, Mr Ghosn has an arse to kick. Each engine is hand-assembled by one engineer in clean-room conditions. "Anonymous work is usually not compatible with quality," Ghosn says.

Tomoyuki Hara's name is on the design of the drivetrain, a patented, 'independent 4WD transaxle' that incorporates the GR6 twin-clutch manual transmission. "The integrated transaxle has the whole mechanism - transfer system, AWD system, gears, LSD, all integrated," Hara says, adding that the compact, twin-clutch sits just ahead of the transaxle.

He's especially proud of the GT-R's six-speed gearbox. With auto and manual capability, and three shift maps, it'll go from effortless daily dawdling to throttle-blipping sequential rifle-bolt race 'box. The incredibly intuitive auto mode, when pushed, slams the cogs in an impressive 0.4sec; but the 'R' mode side-steps into a new gear in 0.2.

"And that is from when you pull the paddle, to the time you can feel the traction," Hara smiles. "Others announce 0.6 seconds for theirs, but that is just the synchronising time."

The 20-inch alloy wheels house enormous, cross-drilled cast-iron Brembo rotors, with six-piston calipers up front and four-piston at the rear. Mizuno, an early-adopter of carbon-ceramic brakes on Nissan's 1992 Daytona-winning R91 CP, clammed up about their almost certain future on the GT-R. "Hmm. Very difficult question for me."

As we prepared to set out on our drive 'at' the Nürburgring - around 40 minutes on the neighbouring country roads and autobahns, then a proper lap in the passenger's seat - the biggest unanswered question concerned the tyres.

Each of the three test cars wore Bridgestone Potenza RE070R rubber, specifically 255/40ZRF20 up front and 285/35ZRF20 rear. Aside from run-flat capability, they're clearly your minimally-treaded, 'R-compound' track-day fodder, in contrast to optional (unseen) 'all-weather' Dunlops. "The Bridgestone is for circuit use, for actual sports, whereas Dunlop is for autobahn, freeway, sportscar cruising, so to speak," says Mizuno.

Okay, so what's the performance difference?

"No difference," Mizuno insists. "Basically, the wet circuit lap time is the same ... it is only a difference of taste. Performance is identical."

If his answer were true, where's the point in the faster-wearing, dry-weather-only Bridgestones?

Before you and I set out, I'll tell you something Mizuno told me after I'd got back. With this car's engine, transmission and chassis being all-new, I'd asked him which component gave the most development grief.

He didn't hesitate. "Balance. That was the challenge. When you test-drove the car today, if you [had] discovered there was one strong characteristic in the car, then it means there is not perfect balance. Engine, powertrain, suspension, body, tyres, control weight ... these are the numbers which are not really measurable. This, the alignment of the new technologies, is the challenge."

It's as good an explanation of the GT-R's driving character as any. As you absorb the Nissan's extremes of performance and argument-settling Nürburgring nous, you're probably imagining an impatience at low speed, a raucous cabin, wrist-wrestling steering, an eyeful of pubic hair as it switches into its supercar suit. But it's just not the case with this silken, sophisticated and staggeringly swift coupe.

It's black inside the cabin and one feels very low and sheltered by its tall waist. The seats feel spot-on from the start; firmly supportive, but not race-car hard. Their many adjustments are all electric, and managed by one brilliantly simple 'joystick' knob on the cushion side.

The engine's quiet at idle; a smooth and scientific whirr. Prods on the throttle prompt crisp blarts and burbles from the exhaust. There's no clutch pedal, of course, and the transmission's simple gate suggests a luxury slushbox.

First thing to mind, apart from the turbine-smoothness of the engine, is the relaxed and linear feel of the steering, and the astonishing absence of tramlining on the narrow country road leading away from the Nürburgring.

The only real reminder (at low speeds) of these 20-inch run-flat tyres is in the ride quality. The GT-R sits flat and squat and, no two ways about it, the ride is firm and rumbly. And that's with the Bilstein DampTronic dampers in Normal mode. Fact is, it's not obviously different in Sport, except for a more ponderous feel to the rebound damping at the rear.

Keeping the Nürburgring lap times in perspective is the fact that, at 3.8 litres, the GT-R's twin-turbo engine does have a larger capacity (if around 40 fewer kilowatts and 100Nm less torque) than Porsche's 911 GT2. A key cost-saving lies in the Nissan's two IHI turbos lacking any fancy variable-vane technology. It's clearly a force-fed motor - sewing-machine smooth, but shy of the benchmark linearity of BMW's bi-blown inline six. Where I'd expected a hairy-chested, mid-range monster, the GT-R is instead very top-endy, not feeling especially crisp underfoot with less than 3000rpm on board.

Beyond that, bizarrely, I kept thinking of a Ferrari V8 ... except you'll need a 430 Scuderia to get within a tenth of the GT-R's 3.5-second 0-100km/h streak.

Mizuno-san made much of the phrase "flat-ride sport." Even in a straight line, the GT-R's performance is surprisingly lacking in theatrics. The chassis barely squats or squirms in delivering its almost uninterrupted, rocket-sled acceleration.

Traffic on our autobahn blast prevented us from seeing more than 280km/h. But the GT-R was squat and confident and gaining momentum with a bobsled sensation that suggested an eerie, aerodynamic efficiency. It feels barely different in slipping from 250 to 280km/h, than from 50-80km/h.

There's no burying the fact of 1740kg, nor the wide-shouldered stance of the GT-R. Even the luxed-up 911 Turbo is more than 150kg lighter, and feels it. But the gobfuls of grip, the communicative and linear steering and the firm, flat ride put the GT-R into a sharper class than big-butt, V12 tourers from Ferrari and Aston Martin.

Put some of that poise down to the all-wheel-drive system, whose architect, Hara-san, was sitting next to me. This latest GT-R may lack four-wheel steering, but the handling character remains that of a rear-wheel-drive car. Hara says he dislikes the aggressively all-wheel-drive feel and awkward differential action of certain four-cylinder turbo terrors.

If there's one element that defies Mizuno's goal for balance, it's Hara's transmission. It can't help but stand out. In automatic mode, the three-position switch allows Snow, Normal and 'R' settings; in manual (with shifting only available via the paddles), one can opt for Normal or 'R.' The automatic program is probably the most intuitive I've experienced, with vigorous driving uncovering its gear-holding, throttle-blipping talents and impressively rapid shifts.

Impressive, at least, until one flicks the 'R' switch - unleashing an utterly soul-stirring slap-fest through the six cogs. And one suddenly realises a little more of the magic of the GT-R, beyond even the solidity of its stance and the stealth of its swiftness: this supercar doesn't even pause for breath.

A LAP WITH GOD
In my life, I have done maybe a dozen laps of the Nordschleife, always at the wheel. I have always been unashamedly terrified of the place since, on my first visit in 1986, it flung me and a BMW 635 CSi into the air after just two minutes.

They say it takes at least 50 laps just to learn the Nordschleife, and another 50 to learn how to go fast. At 20.8km per lap, that'd be 20 hours of non-stop driving.

My driver, Nissan test pilot Ryosuke Suezaki, asks, "Full speed or medium speed?" With the heavy skies starting to sprinkle and the school of baby squid from lunch doing the lambada in my belly, I suggest we start out medium.

On industry-pool days, the lap starts from the old pit lane, just after the link to the Sudschleife. It spills immediately into a fast, downhill section kinking right, and...

Suezaki's max-revs flipping of the gear paddles, the unrelenting acceleration and the building of lateral gs suggested this was going to be closer to well-done. As we zipped through a series of normal-scale switchbacks - I think it's Hatzenbach - it was clear that the baby squid would hang on for the ride. Needlessly, I made an upwards motion with my hand. I'm someone who generally says "f__k!" a lot, just watching telly or in church.

This day set a new record.

Suezaki's commitment was supreme, on this most terrifying and unforgiving of circuits. Over a 200km/h crest, the revs rise and we shuffle in our seats, Suezaki coolly waving thanks to a slower car in mid-flight. He brakes and tips in early to the Flugplatz uphill right-hander, the track appearing to fall away beyond the apex. The GT-R squats hard, squirms on its outside rear, and Suezaki is hard on the gas as we drift at 170km/h to the white line on the exit. The view from my window is pure Armco.

I know the next section; left over a blind crest, downhill, open, fast left hand kink spilling almost a kilometre to another blind left over a crest. Speed spools up very quickly here; with the blind crest approaching, 180 is as fast as you want to go.

We did not stop accelerating, suspension compressed through the flat-out left kink as we again subtly side-slipped to the outer white line. We had 260 on board with the blind crest (and beyond, a 100km/h downhill right-hander) looming large in our screen ... Six kays later, the three blind left kinks at Kesselchen are likewise 240-fast, lobbing at a 90km/h right-hander and then uphill to the concrete-covered Karussel.

There seems to be something almost metaphysical at work in the GT-R. At speeds that should have a 1740kg car slewing and wallowing, the driver tweaking the throttle and sawing at the wheel, the car straining to puncture the dense wall of wind, the GT-R shows little of it. Instead, it's all about Suezaki accelerating, taking one bite of lock for each corner, the car squat and flat, working its rear end hard, front end clawing at the apexes, accelerating, forever accelerating.

And again, it's his commitment and knowledge of a track where the subtle shape of a crest can, in the space of a 20km/h increment, do very different things. On the Nordschleife, half a metre too far means half a metre away from the wall, already on the grass.

With the rain having held off, we finished at 8min,12sec. Suezaki's best today had been a 7:49. I asked him: "How many laps have you done here?"

"More than 400," he said, blushing and looking at the floor.

I always liked to think I was a pretty handy steerer, but I could do 500 laps here and not drive a lap like that.