The Honda NSX Ruined Cars For Me

I’m not joking.

Imola Orange, a bit of a love/hate choice (Source: OptionZ via Gran Turismo)

This is one of those points where authorship can become dangerous. If I’m not careful here, I might downgrade my reputation as a motoring writer. Why? Well, any average writer can pen a good piece on the NSX. Talk a bit about engineering, Ferrari being a bit shit, and Senna and his odd shoes. Job done. It writes itself. I’m not going to do that. 

I’m not doing it. I refuse to romanticise the Honda NSX. It was a bunch of Honda staff having a brilliant idea, putting it onto paper, and then putting it into aluminium. Senna didn’t spend half his life helping to refine it either. He dropped by, did a bit of PR, handed over some notes, and jumped back on his helicopter.

“The Honda NSX mortally wounded my love of speed.”

15 minutes, that’s all (Source: OptionZ via Gran Turismo)

Christ knows how many years later it was, but I took it for a drive. I only had 15 minutes with it. Then the next person who drove it after me, from what I understand, binned it into some bushes. Given the circumstances, I probably should have taken it home with me and saved Honda an eye-watering repair bill. So, it turns out there is actually a good time to steal a car. 

Yeah, now obviously the NSX is brilliant. You don’t need me to tell you how it drives, you can read that in one of the other billion NSX articles. Instead, we’re going to talk about how it changed me. Yes, this article is all about me.

“Like a vengeful ex-spouse, it seems intent on robbing me of everything.”

The Honda NSX mortally wounded my love of speed. It died sometime the following year when I realised I just didn’t give a monkey’s about power anymore. Lap times don’t mean anything unless you’re in motorsport, 0-62mph rankings are for context, and top speeds are things that never happen. Seriously, none of you have ever even sniffed a top speed. Neither have I, and that’s a good thing. I value life. It has apple crumble.

When it came time to build OptionZ, that left me with a dilemma. Most tuning companies love pouring a big old jug of power into a vehicle. By not pursuing 500bhp for the sake of it, OptionZ would be immediately on the back foot. That’s because 99-point-something percent of people on the planet have never driven an NSX, so 99-point-something percent of people still have a living, breathing relationship with horsepower.

… and I’ll never be able to afford one (Source: OptionZ via Gran Turismo)

It’s always been my favourite, the NSX. Kaz’s masterpiece put it under my nose at about 10 years old. It slid down my nostrils and into my heart and it’s stayed there ever since. At OptionZ, I wanted to make my own. My NSX, my take on my favourite car. Something for me that I could share with everyone via OptionZ. But no. Just like the NSX stole speed from me, it stole my dream of building my own NSX too. Like a vengeful ex-spouse, it seems intent on robbing me of everything.

Trust me, I’ve tried. I tune it, I drive it, it’s brilliant. I drive the original, it’s better. I try adding more power, it doesn’t matter. It just feels a bit more contemporary. I don’t want it to feel more contemporary, I want it to feel like the perfect NSX. I now realise it never will. The NSX is a car deeply in love with the fact it is a car. It’s morally wrong to talk it out of it.

GT7 desperately needs more NSX variants (Source: OptionZ via Gran Turismo)

OptionZ will never, ever have a Honda NSX to offer you. It’s the perfect car. The best? Probably. There’s never been anything else in life that has made me feel love like that for an inanimate object. All that work Honda did, the test drivers, the legendary (and I’m sure near-permanent garage fixture) Ayrton Senna, the refinement, the fact it’s still just simply a car? It’s everything I ever dreamed of. It’s unpretentious and modest too.

Ah shit, something’s telling me I’ve just lost some of my stellar reputation. Well, the NSX was pretty good by the standards of its time wasn’t it. I can’t salvage this. Oh well, here’s to another evening of chewing my sorrows through an apple crumble.