There’s probably little that would provide more of a thrill than the original GT-R
weighing in at just 1100kg. Test driver Motoharu Kurosawa, who was closely linked with the racing success of these cars, declared that the two-door car was two seconds a lap faster than the fourdoor at the Fuji circuit.
All four corners of the car were independently suspended, completing the recipe for a remarkably advanced race car for the time. Nissan built the car — and not very many of them — to go racing, and that’s what it did. It managed to rack up 50 races in Japan before its crown was stolen.
Of the fewer than 2000 cars built, only 1100 were of the two-door variant. Today, very few exist anywhere. Most stayed in Japan, and to buy one today you’d have to look there first. There are a number of copies around, built from lower-spec, non-GT-R versions, but these are not only heavier and poorer handling, they also don’t have the S-20 heart.
Auckland-based businessman, racing driver, and car collector Shane Helms tells us that a major part of owning a classic is “the thrill of the chase”. With the rarity of the genuine cars, there’s probably little that would provide more of a thrill than the original GT-R. Shane hunted down this particular 1971 example in Japan.
To see it sitting there among the other non-Japanese classics in his garage is to instantly understand its place among the pantheon of classics. For a car that is knocking on 50 years old, it possesses near-unrivalled good looks that very few modern offerings could measure up to.
Distinctive plastic mirrors are mounted way out on the front guards. The same then as now, they kind of work; you don’t have to move your eyes far from the road to use them, but what you see isn’t much of an insight — perhaps that was the purpose: you need not worry about what sits behind you, because you’re already winning.
The period-correct Watanabe wheels sit close to the body, as close as they did back then, anyway, and under the bonnet there’s
a motor just like they used to make them. You’ll find no plastic covers to spoil the view — everything is on display, from the top of the motor down past the three carburettors and across to the meticulously polished headers. It’s a lump of a motor for a two-litre that sits low in the engine bay; you can see where all 118kW that the production version offered are contained. There’s not a lot to see at the rear. The arse end is small, mostly occupied by the enormous 100-litre fuel tank. It’s a ’60s race car from top to toe.
The relatively stripped-out interior is a cross between Japanese performance and Italian exotic. Consisting of a thin-rimmed and large three-spoke steering wheel, it’s a period affair, and the shifter is classically heavy to use and distinctly notchy as it feeds selection into the five-speed box. The dashboard is evidently 50 years old; the tacho is redlined at 7500rpm — that’s how the two-litre six-banger made its power, a healthy dose of revs — and the odometer reads a lowly 81,800km.
As to be expected, nothing is power assisted. We’re told that the steering is heavy but very accurate, and the brakes work equally well despite requiring a good stomping. Even the accelerator is heavy, which can be deceiving as you inevitably over-feed it with your right foot. Unlike many of its international counterparts, the car’s front suspension is made up of independent struts with semitrailing arms at the rear.
For all its motorsport prowess, lineage-starting origins, and the sheer rarity of available examples, the original GT-R in both twodoor and four-door configurations has entered the list of bona fide classics. It’s hard to argue that a 50-year-old, well-handling, and 118kW packing coupe that will happily rev to 7500rpm isn’t the stuff of legends.
The GT-R racked up 50 major races during its competitive lifetime and the nameplate went on to secure many more throughout its subsequent generations. They conquered the likes of Fuji, Spa, and Bathurst; were banned from the US out of fear that they could outrun any police car in service; and were always right on the ragged edge of being just too powerful and too fast.
Despite all that the nameplate has gone on to do, the age-old adage still applies: nothing beats the original — and this certainly is the holy grail classic.
WORDS AND PHOTOS: