The time when I chased the 193mph top speed of Nissan's secret weapon

The first mid-engined car I ever drove was a 3-litre Honda NSX. This would have been 1993 or maybe 1994 – memory fails me on anything more precise – and I was working on EMAP’s big-budget but short-lived weekly, Carweek. It was also my introduction to Japanese sports cars.

It was in definitive NSX spec. That’s to say Formula Red with a black roof, black leather interior, silver five-spoke alloys, (rather slow) unassisted steering and a sweet manual gearbox. So far as the 22-year-old me was concerned, I was just a pair of loafers away from The Full Senna, though in truth I must have looked like a kid borrowing his dad’s car. I can still feel the surge of excitement when I managed to secure it for the weekend, a minor miracle that required some cunning logistics, some unsubtle hints and typically knowing benevolence from my then-boss, John Simister. I headed home on cloud nine.

> Used Honda NSX (1999 - 2006) review: Japan's original supercar

Saturday evening involved the standard Meaden testing procedure, which amounted to collecting my best mate Tim and heading for the Pirbright Bends, which I would attack at increasing velocity until we’d had enough or scared ourselves. Despite best efforts on my part, the former threshold was reached before I managed a potentially career-ending breach of the latter. That Senna fellow knew his stuff.

My Carweek days also saw me conduct one of the first UK tests of the Impreza 2000 Turbo. Subarus have always been slightly leftfield, and some didn’t ‘get’ it, but I was smitten. All-wheel drive and 200bhp was serious stuff for an affordable four-door saloon. It might have helped that 1994 was also Subaru’s first year campaigning the Impreza in the WRC…

A year later I was working on Performance Car magazine. The team ‘welcomed’ me with the keys to an unloved Ford Probe 24v as my long-termer, but when that went back I was first in line for an incoming Impreza 2.0 Turbo. Finished in Deep Green metallic and fitted with Prodrive’s optional gold Speedline Safari wheels and cloth Recaro seats, it was the zeitgeist on wheels.

I adored it, commuting daily from Surrey to Peterborough(!) until I eventually rented a room in Cambridge. My dad got bitten by the Impreza bug shortly after, first buying a new five-door Turbo before upgrading to an RB5 with WR Sport pack, followed by a P1 with Prodrive Performance Pack. Good times, great cars.

After the launch of evo I spent an increasing amount of time in quick Japanese cars. Mostly Subarus and Mitsubishis (including a Forester Turbo long-termer, which was epic), but with a fair sprinkling of GT‑Rs. The R34 was an early cover star, but it was the R35 that took Nissan’s performance flagship from mysterious Gran Turismo gaming hero to bona fide Porsche-eater.

My first taste of the R35 still sticks in my mind. Rather than Tokyo, selected international media were invited to the Nürburgring. It was 2007, approaching the height of the lap-time wars, and Nissan was clearly revelling in rattling the cages of the proud indigenous sports car makers. The launch itself was a drive of some late pre-production cars, plus many hours of engineering workshops to reveal the inner workings of this mysterious machine, rather as though a secret military weapon had suddenly been declassified. It really was a special moment.

We got to drive the development cars, surprisingly, alongside the GT‑R’s benchmark nemesis, the Gen 1 Porsche 997 Turbo. Wisely we weren’t let loose on the Nordschleife, but we had a few sessions on the Grand Prix circuit, which showed the GT‑R to be ballistically quick and quite unlike anything we’d driven before.

So keen was Nissan to showcase the breadth and reach of the R35’s performance that there were also dedicated road sessions. Once away from Nürburg we were encouraged to try a launch control start, and to explore the various modes for chassis and powertrain. Best of all we were then invited to drive the car as fast as we possibly could on a stretch of derestricted autobahn.

We were asked to switch into a dedicated GT‑R development car for the autobahn runs. I think it had a roll-cage and it was definitely hooked up to test equipment. In the passenger seat was a Nissan engineer, whose sole duty was to ride shotgun with a succession of feverishly excited international journalists as we each attempted to hit the GT‑R’s claimed top speed of 193mph.

I’m not sure how he had been selected. I’m guessing it was a punishment detail from Kazutoshi ‘Mr GT‑R’ Mizuno. I aborted my run at 186mph when a lorry lumbered into our path, but I know others – predictably the German media – made more determined efforts. The poor guy must have needed hosing out of the car by the end of the day. I think of him whenever I see an R35. I hope he doesn’t think of me.

This story was first featured in evo issue 327.