The Best ///M/Barge/General Rant/Look at this/O/T(Vol XVIII)
Discussion
Polar Silver
GT3 Clubsport Seats
Porsche Motorsport Full Roll Cage
MOMO Porsche Cup Steering Wheel
RSS Semi Solid Engine Mounts
997.2 GT3RS Gearbox Mount
Porsche Motorsport Diff Plates
Ohlins Suspension
18" OZ Racing Alloy Wheels
£67995
https://www.carandclassic.co.uk/car/C954898
GT3 Clubsport Seats
Porsche Motorsport Full Roll Cage
MOMO Porsche Cup Steering Wheel
RSS Semi Solid Engine Mounts
997.2 GT3RS Gearbox Mount
Porsche Motorsport Diff Plates
Ohlins Suspension
18" OZ Racing Alloy Wheels
£67995
https://www.carandclassic.co.uk/car/C954898
With the chat about Skylines a few pages ago, and specifically about the price increases after the R32’s 25th birthday - when it became attractive to the USA import agents, the time seems right to give an update on my recently acquired Japanese 1998 DC2 Honda Integra Type R.
I’ve been delving into the writings of Bulgin and Setright recently, so I thought I’d have a go at writing up my purchase properly. Just a bit of fun though, lads.
The buying process quickly escalated through a fear of missing the speculative rise in price once the Type R becomes eligible for the USA (2020). There were originally just 3000 ITRs destined for the US, and the market remains hot, with a clean one being worth over $30,000. They’ll surely go mental for the Japanese version which will drag the prices of imported cars up over here, well, I think it will. With this in mind, and not wanting to miss the boat, I found a clean Japanese spec imported car on Ebay just before Christmas. It was towards the top of the market, but I am buying to keep long term, alongside my classic Alfa. You know how it is, I quickly became obsessed with my quarry, as this Integra was a bit special. And as we all know, It’s all about the chase.
As I mentioned previously, back in 2003, and at the age of 22, I managed to get my bum in a 1999 UK model Integra Type R - the one that looks a bit like a T200 Celica, with four lamps in a Chevette-like drooped snout. It was the first car which really blurred the hedges for me, and despite the initial allure of the Championship White Honda, with its matching white 15” alloys and boot mounted wing, not to mention those torso hugging red Recaro Speed front seats, I didn’t know quite what I had, until I had it.
Fast forward 12 years, and a serendipitous occurrence of being offered my old car back (sadly the deal fell through) ignited the DC2 flame again. Since casting my beloved noisy companion aside in favour of a Techno Violent M3 Evolution, I often wished I could have kept it.
I don’t know if you are hirsute on these early Type Rs, but after the lightweight variant of the type NA1 NSX, the NSX-R, Honda’s skunkworks equivalent (Championship White stripe, surely) turned their hand to their small coupe, the Integra. One of the reasons for this was to homologate the car for FIA competition, so I like to think that the engineers behind the car got a green light to indulge their desires, rather than create the ITR for commercial reasons. The fact of the matter is that Honda lost money on every DC2-R they made, but although it was a lost leader, they were determined to build the Type R brand and refused to put out a compromised product. That’s the thing about this Type R, despite being quite objectively focussed, it isn’t clinical. When you get into one, it clearly has character and gives the impression that it has been put together with care and attention to detail.
Care and attention to detail in many areas as well. It’s not just a lighter shell with a hot motor. Consequently, it feels more than the sum of its parts. The suspension arms were developed specifically for the car and larger brakes fitted, both of which are a bit heavier, so thinner glass was used for the windows. The car has no sound deadening material in the boot, behind the door cards, or on the firewall, adding lightness. The shell has been seam welded to make it stiffer. There is a strut brace under the bonnet, and a bolted in bar on the rear panel in the boot to aid in balanced weight distribution between front and back axles. The car also wears light little Enkei wheels which save un-sprung mass, which we are told is important. You also had to option air conditioning, ABS, the small red LCD digital clock, the rear wiper and the stereo. My car, a Japanese 1998 spec (with the luxury of a/c) weighs in at around 1010kg.
Now, despite all the effort on the rest of the car, the Lobster Futomaki amongst a plate of already tantalising morsels is really the engine, but you have to bide your time before the magic happens. Firstly, you have to disarm the antiquated immobiliser, which is a carbon effect fob with a sticky rubber button. After pressing, you have 30 seconds or so to get in and start the engine. Inserting the lovely, JDM only, key, compete with the ‘Integra Type R’ script, the starter motor spins quick and high pitched, not unlike a motorbike. At tick over the engine is quiet and uninspiring, despite the Mugen exhaust system and intake. And it’s rather like this on the move as well, grit and road detritus pinging around the wheel wells. The throttle is very sensitive, and any travel right at the top of the pedal makes the revs sore. Consequentially, it’s a little difficult to pull away cleanly, and can be a bit of a pain in start stop traffic. I find its best to leave a gap of a few cars before pulling away. This is exasperated by my car’s aftermarket Spoon clutch and flywheel, which I find best to slip a little bit, but once you are rolling, the feeling through the pedals is direct and easily moderated. Instantly it all comes flooding back, including something I’d forgotten, a little whistle as the butterfly on the throttle body opens through a certain angle, and the flow of air over it is akin to blowing across a bottle top. Another gear using the lozenge of titanium atop the gearstick that feels so small in the hand, and the car is starting to warm up a bit.
After a few further miles, the water and oil temperature has climbed, and we’re nearly set to unleash all those revs. The yellow needle in the tacho can wind all the way around to 9600rpm in this car, a distant white numeral on a black faced clock, due to the Hondata ECU lurking in the passenger footwell that not only increases the redline, but also lowers the point at which the secondary cam profile is engaged from 5800 to 5000. This means that you are less likely to drop out of the VTEC cam profile after gear changing when you are really on it. Consequentially, at faster cruising speeds, you can easily get the needle past 5k in 5th gear, such is the shortness of the ‘box, and the Kilometre speedo means that you are often travelling a touch quicker than you think. The Hondata affords a launch control too, which bounces the revs at 3000rpm like some sort of crazy anti-lag system, allowing you to leave with squeeling tyres as the engine reaches its stride. Effective.
Turning off the main route then, and time to run through the revs. The car comes alive. Suddenly you smile, you get it. I wind the engine out right into the red area reserved for hi-jinx and the engine light comes on. ‘s
t, I’ve broken it!’ I think, but I’ve just found another feature of the ECU, a shift light. Realisation sets in, and the grin spreads further. I squeeze the throttle again, firmly, and the engine becomes gruffer with a hard induction noise like it’s on twin Webers. Through 6,7,8,9 thousand rpm. We’re really travelling now, hedges, gates, walls all flashing by the windows and appearing quickly through the low screen. Onto the brakes then for an upcoming right hander, and the pedal is absolutely with you, firm and progressive under foot. A side step of the throttle and down a gear, before we’re on it again. Over some mud and the Advan A08Rs juggle the grip through the trick torsen lsd in the front axle. Corners next, and the car is adjustable under brakes, the back wheels toeing in a little due to the setup at the rear. Once you find your apex, you can just give the car everything. That front end somehow pulling you further into the corner and dragging you out of it with a slightly nose high stance, screaming engine. Yes, I remember why I loved this car, and why it still entertains today.
For me this car pulls on the heart strings of nostalgia. With the HIDs burning blue against the mellow yellow of the sidelights, in my head I’m there inside Gran Turismo on the Tokyo Express Way, zooming between the pools of sulphur yellow light on the dark tarmac, surrounded by obscure JDM exotica.
In reality, driving it on a typically busy winter morning on the way to work, it does make you feel special. You get the occasional admiring glance or a thumbs up from those in the know, but you quickly realise how long it's been since 1998. The Honda is basic, if not well built from white painted metal, shiny plastic and coarse fabrics. Direct, noisy, highly strung. Its low, and somewhat crashy over rough roads due to the stiff sided rubber. There’s an annoying squeak coming from the parcel shelf’s rubber pegs as well, and the reach of the wheel is a bit restrictive in the padded coat I’m wearing. Because I’m slightly ill-acquainted, I keep wiping the windows instead of signalling my intent to other road users. I think back and wonder how I ran one every day without becoming fatigued by it. Perhaps it was just the exuberance of youth, or maybe I’ve being spoilt by the hush and ease of use of modern vehicles. Whatever it is, once you forgive it of being of its age, and apply it to an open road, spin the engine up and you’ll forgive it practically anything.
I’ve been delving into the writings of Bulgin and Setright recently, so I thought I’d have a go at writing up my purchase properly. Just a bit of fun though, lads.
The buying process quickly escalated through a fear of missing the speculative rise in price once the Type R becomes eligible for the USA (2020). There were originally just 3000 ITRs destined for the US, and the market remains hot, with a clean one being worth over $30,000. They’ll surely go mental for the Japanese version which will drag the prices of imported cars up over here, well, I think it will. With this in mind, and not wanting to miss the boat, I found a clean Japanese spec imported car on Ebay just before Christmas. It was towards the top of the market, but I am buying to keep long term, alongside my classic Alfa. You know how it is, I quickly became obsessed with my quarry, as this Integra was a bit special. And as we all know, It’s all about the chase.
As I mentioned previously, back in 2003, and at the age of 22, I managed to get my bum in a 1999 UK model Integra Type R - the one that looks a bit like a T200 Celica, with four lamps in a Chevette-like drooped snout. It was the first car which really blurred the hedges for me, and despite the initial allure of the Championship White Honda, with its matching white 15” alloys and boot mounted wing, not to mention those torso hugging red Recaro Speed front seats, I didn’t know quite what I had, until I had it.
Fast forward 12 years, and a serendipitous occurrence of being offered my old car back (sadly the deal fell through) ignited the DC2 flame again. Since casting my beloved noisy companion aside in favour of a Techno Violent M3 Evolution, I often wished I could have kept it.
I don’t know if you are hirsute on these early Type Rs, but after the lightweight variant of the type NA1 NSX, the NSX-R, Honda’s skunkworks equivalent (Championship White stripe, surely) turned their hand to their small coupe, the Integra. One of the reasons for this was to homologate the car for FIA competition, so I like to think that the engineers behind the car got a green light to indulge their desires, rather than create the ITR for commercial reasons. The fact of the matter is that Honda lost money on every DC2-R they made, but although it was a lost leader, they were determined to build the Type R brand and refused to put out a compromised product. That’s the thing about this Type R, despite being quite objectively focussed, it isn’t clinical. When you get into one, it clearly has character and gives the impression that it has been put together with care and attention to detail.
Care and attention to detail in many areas as well. It’s not just a lighter shell with a hot motor. Consequently, it feels more than the sum of its parts. The suspension arms were developed specifically for the car and larger brakes fitted, both of which are a bit heavier, so thinner glass was used for the windows. The car has no sound deadening material in the boot, behind the door cards, or on the firewall, adding lightness. The shell has been seam welded to make it stiffer. There is a strut brace under the bonnet, and a bolted in bar on the rear panel in the boot to aid in balanced weight distribution between front and back axles. The car also wears light little Enkei wheels which save un-sprung mass, which we are told is important. You also had to option air conditioning, ABS, the small red LCD digital clock, the rear wiper and the stereo. My car, a Japanese 1998 spec (with the luxury of a/c) weighs in at around 1010kg.
Now, despite all the effort on the rest of the car, the Lobster Futomaki amongst a plate of already tantalising morsels is really the engine, but you have to bide your time before the magic happens. Firstly, you have to disarm the antiquated immobiliser, which is a carbon effect fob with a sticky rubber button. After pressing, you have 30 seconds or so to get in and start the engine. Inserting the lovely, JDM only, key, compete with the ‘Integra Type R’ script, the starter motor spins quick and high pitched, not unlike a motorbike. At tick over the engine is quiet and uninspiring, despite the Mugen exhaust system and intake. And it’s rather like this on the move as well, grit and road detritus pinging around the wheel wells. The throttle is very sensitive, and any travel right at the top of the pedal makes the revs sore. Consequentially, it’s a little difficult to pull away cleanly, and can be a bit of a pain in start stop traffic. I find its best to leave a gap of a few cars before pulling away. This is exasperated by my car’s aftermarket Spoon clutch and flywheel, which I find best to slip a little bit, but once you are rolling, the feeling through the pedals is direct and easily moderated. Instantly it all comes flooding back, including something I’d forgotten, a little whistle as the butterfly on the throttle body opens through a certain angle, and the flow of air over it is akin to blowing across a bottle top. Another gear using the lozenge of titanium atop the gearstick that feels so small in the hand, and the car is starting to warm up a bit.
After a few further miles, the water and oil temperature has climbed, and we’re nearly set to unleash all those revs. The yellow needle in the tacho can wind all the way around to 9600rpm in this car, a distant white numeral on a black faced clock, due to the Hondata ECU lurking in the passenger footwell that not only increases the redline, but also lowers the point at which the secondary cam profile is engaged from 5800 to 5000. This means that you are less likely to drop out of the VTEC cam profile after gear changing when you are really on it. Consequentially, at faster cruising speeds, you can easily get the needle past 5k in 5th gear, such is the shortness of the ‘box, and the Kilometre speedo means that you are often travelling a touch quicker than you think. The Hondata affords a launch control too, which bounces the revs at 3000rpm like some sort of crazy anti-lag system, allowing you to leave with squeeling tyres as the engine reaches its stride. Effective.
Turning off the main route then, and time to run through the revs. The car comes alive. Suddenly you smile, you get it. I wind the engine out right into the red area reserved for hi-jinx and the engine light comes on. ‘s
t, I’ve broken it!’ I think, but I’ve just found another feature of the ECU, a shift light. Realisation sets in, and the grin spreads further. I squeeze the throttle again, firmly, and the engine becomes gruffer with a hard induction noise like it’s on twin Webers. Through 6,7,8,9 thousand rpm. We’re really travelling now, hedges, gates, walls all flashing by the windows and appearing quickly through the low screen. Onto the brakes then for an upcoming right hander, and the pedal is absolutely with you, firm and progressive under foot. A side step of the throttle and down a gear, before we’re on it again. Over some mud and the Advan A08Rs juggle the grip through the trick torsen lsd in the front axle. Corners next, and the car is adjustable under brakes, the back wheels toeing in a little due to the setup at the rear. Once you find your apex, you can just give the car everything. That front end somehow pulling you further into the corner and dragging you out of it with a slightly nose high stance, screaming engine. Yes, I remember why I loved this car, and why it still entertains today. For me this car pulls on the heart strings of nostalgia. With the HIDs burning blue against the mellow yellow of the sidelights, in my head I’m there inside Gran Turismo on the Tokyo Express Way, zooming between the pools of sulphur yellow light on the dark tarmac, surrounded by obscure JDM exotica.
In reality, driving it on a typically busy winter morning on the way to work, it does make you feel special. You get the occasional admiring glance or a thumbs up from those in the know, but you quickly realise how long it's been since 1998. The Honda is basic, if not well built from white painted metal, shiny plastic and coarse fabrics. Direct, noisy, highly strung. Its low, and somewhat crashy over rough roads due to the stiff sided rubber. There’s an annoying squeak coming from the parcel shelf’s rubber pegs as well, and the reach of the wheel is a bit restrictive in the padded coat I’m wearing. Because I’m slightly ill-acquainted, I keep wiping the windows instead of signalling my intent to other road users. I think back and wonder how I ran one every day without becoming fatigued by it. Perhaps it was just the exuberance of youth, or maybe I’ve being spoilt by the hush and ease of use of modern vehicles. Whatever it is, once you forgive it of being of its age, and apply it to an open road, spin the engine up and you’ll forgive it practically anything.
Edited by joesnow on Tuesday 30th January 12:40
Edited by joesnow on Tuesday 30th January 14:57
Also and apropos of nothing I took my dear old mum to see Cirque du Soleil Ovo at The Royal Albert Hall on sunday and it is pretty incredible. I would recommend it to anyone and everyone.
Also, they are lunatics. That image shows the lady hanging on to his neck whilst they ping around on a couple of massive rubber bands and that's not the most mental act. Amazing skill, body and mental strength. The one below is where they are throwing people back and forth however many feet in the air.
Makes a change from watching another episode of whatever on Netflix.
Also, they are lunatics. That image shows the lady hanging on to his neck whilst they ping around on a couple of massive rubber bands and that's not the most mental act. Amazing skill, body and mental strength. The one below is where they are throwing people back and forth however many feet in the air.
Makes a change from watching another episode of whatever on Netflix.
Nice write up on the Integra, had only a very brief go in one back in the day but what an engine and now looking back on it a fantastic package, shrewd buy by the look of it too 
All the 959 talk made me go and dig out my old photo album, me aged 14 sitting in a family friends car shortly before experiencing it fully lit down the A12, will never forget it
Funny thing is watching another 959 video the front tyres show up as 235/45/17's... Also I guess the above is where I get my liking of silver pork, can't stop modding mine however, latest additions stiffer engine and gearbox mounts, Weiss gold wheel refurb with PS4S Michelins and some Cayman R go faster stripes, you can take the boy out of Essex...
Cirque du Soleil is a good shout.
All the 959 talk made me go and dig out my old photo album, me aged 14 sitting in a family friends car shortly before experiencing it fully lit down the A12, will never forget it
Funny thing is watching another 959 video the front tyres show up as 235/45/17's... Also I guess the above is where I get my liking of silver pork, can't stop modding mine however, latest additions stiffer engine and gearbox mounts, Weiss gold wheel refurb with PS4S Michelins and some Cayman R go faster stripes, you can take the boy out of Essex...
Cirque du Soleil is a good shout.
Edited by Rocket. on Tuesday 30th January 22:00
joesnow said:
With the chat about Skylines a few pages ago, and specifically about the price increases after the R32’s 25th birthday - when it became attractive to the USA import agents, the time seems right to give an update on my recently acquired Japanese 1998 DC2 Honda Integra Type R.
I’ve been delving into the writings of Bulgin and Setright recently, so I thought I’d have a go at writing up my purchase properly. Just a bit of fun though, lads.
The buying process quickly escalated through a fear of missing the speculative rise in price once the Type R becomes eligible for the USA (2020). There were originally just 3000 ITRs destined for the US, and the market remains hot, with a clean one being worth over $30,000. They’ll surely go mental for the Japanese version which will drag the prices of imported cars up over here, well, I think it will. With this in mind, and not wanting to miss the boat, I found a clean Japanese spec imported car on Ebay just before Christmas. It was towards the top of the market, but I am buying to keep long term, alongside my classic Alfa. You know how it is, I quickly became obsessed with my quarry, as this Integra was a bit special. And as we all know, It’s all about the chase.
As I mentioned previously, back in 2003, and at the age of 22, I managed to get my bum in a 1999 UK model Integra Type R - the one that looks a bit like a T200 Celica, with four lamps in a Chevette-like drooped snout. It was the first car which really blurred the hedges for me, and despite the initial allure of the Championship White Honda, with its matching white 15” alloys and boot mounted wing, not to mention those torso hugging red Recaro Speed front seats, I didn’t know quite what I had, until I had it.
Fast forward 12 years, and a serendipitous occurrence of being offered my old car back (sadly the deal fell through) ignited the DC2 flame again. Since casting my beloved noisy companion aside in favour of a Techno Violent M3 Evolution, I often wished I could have kept it.
I don’t know if you are hirsute on these early Type Rs, but after the lightweight variant of the type NA1 NSX, the NSX-R, Honda’s skunkworks equivalent (Championship White stripe, surely) turned their hand to their small coupe, the Integra. One of the reasons for this was to homologate the car for FIA competition, so I like to think that the engineers behind the car got a green light to indulge their desires, rather than create the ITR for commercial reasons. The fact of the matter is that Honda lost money on every DC2-R they made, but although it was a lost leader, they were determined to build the Type R brand and refused to put out a compromised product. That’s the thing about this Type R, despite being quite objectively focussed, it isn’t clinical. When you get into one, it clearly has character and gives the impression that it has been put together with care and attention to detail.
Care and attention to detail in many areas as well. It’s not just a lighter shell with a hot motor. Consequently, it feels more than the sum of its parts. The suspension arms were developed specifically for the car and larger brakes fitted, both of which are a bit heavier, so thinner glass was used for the windows. The car has no sound deadening material in the boot, behind the door cards, or on the firewall, adding lightness. The shell has been seam welded to make it stiffer. There is a strut brace under the bonnet, and a bolted in bar on the rear panel in the boot to aid in balanced weight distribution between front and back axles. The car also wears light little Enkei wheels which save un-sprung mass, which we are told is important. You also had to option air conditioning, ABS, the small red LCD digital clock, the rear wiper and the stereo. My car, a Japanese 1998 spec (with the luxury of a/c) weighs in at around 1010kg.
Now, despite all the effort on the rest of the car, the Lobster Futomaki amongst a plate of already tantalising morsels is really the engine, but you have to bide your time before the magic happens. Firstly, you have to disarm the antiquated immobiliser, which is a carbon effect fob with a sticky rubber button. After pressing, you have 30 seconds or so to get in and start the engine. Inserting the lovely, JDM only, key, compete with the ‘Integra Type R’ script, the starter motor spins quick and high pitched, not unlike a motorbike. At tick over the engine is quiet and uninspiring, despite the Mugen exhaust system and intake. And it’s rather like this on the move as well, grit and road detritus pinging around the wheel wells. The throttle is very sensitive, and any travel right at the top of the pedal makes the revs sore. Consequentially, it’s a little difficult to pull away cleanly, and can be a bit of a pain in start stop traffic. I find its best to leave a gap of a few cars before pulling away. This is exasperated by my car’s aftermarket Spoon clutch and flywheel, which I find best to slip a little bit, but once you are rolling, the feeling through the pedals is direct and easily moderated. Instantly it all comes flooding back, including something I’d forgotten, a little whistle as the butterfly on the throttle body opens through a certain angle, and the flow of air over it is akin to blowing across a bottle top. Another gear using the lozenge of titanium atop the gearstick that feels so small in the hand, and the car is starting to warm up a bit.
After a few further miles, the water and oil temperature has climbed, and we’re nearly set to unleash all those revs. The yellow needle in the tacho can wind all the way around to 9600rpm in this car, a distant white numeral on a black faced clock, due to the Hondata ECU lurking in the passenger footwell that not only increases the redline, but also lowers the point at which the secondary cam profile is engaged from 5800 to 5000. This means that you are less likely to drop out of the VTEC cam profile after gear changing when you are really on it. Consequentially, at faster cruising speeds, you can easily get the needle past 5k in 5th gear, such is the shortness of the ‘box, and the Kilometre speedo means that you are often travelling a touch quicker than you think. The Hondata affords a launch control too, which bounces the revs at 3000rpm like some sort of crazy anti-lag system, allowing you to leave with squeeling tyres as the engine reaches its stride. Effective.
Turning off the main route then, and time to run through the revs. The car comes alive. Suddenly you smile, you get it. I wind the engine out right into the red area reserved for hi-jinx and the engine light comes on. ‘st, I’ve broken it!’ I think, but I’ve just found another feature of the ECU, a shift light. Realisation sets in, and the grin spreads further. I squeeze the throttle again, firmly, and the engine becomes gruffer with a hard induction noise like it’s on twin Webers. Through 6,7,8,9 thousand rpm. We’re really travelling now, hedges, gates, walls all flashing by the windows and appearing quickly through the low screen. Onto the brakes then for an upcoming right hander, and the pedal is absolutely with you, firm and progressive under foot. A side step of the throttle and down a gear, before we’re on it again. Over some mud and the Advan A08Rs juggle the grip through the trick torsen lsd in the front axle. Corners next, and the car is adjustable under brakes, the back wheels toeing in a little due to the setup at the rear. Once you find your apex, you can just give the car everything. That front end somehow pulling you further into the corner and dragging you out of it with a slightly nose high stance, screaming engine. Yes, I remember why I loved this car, and why it still entertains today.
For me this car pulls on the heart strings of nostalgia. With the HIDs burning blue against the mellow yellow of the sidelights, in my head I’m there inside Gran Turismo on the Tokyo Express Way, zooming between the pools of sulphur yellow light on the dark tarmac, surrounded by obscure JDM exotica.
In reality, driving it on a typically busy winter morning on the way to work, it does make you feel special. You get the occasional admiring glance or a thumbs up from those in the know, but you quickly realise how long it's been since 1998. The Honda is basic, if not well built from white painted metal, shiny plastic and coarse fabrics. Direct, noisy, highly strung. Its low, and somewhat crashy over rough roads due to the stiff sided rubber. There’s an annoying squeak coming from the parcel shelf’s rubber pegs as well, and the reach of the wheel is a bit restrictive in the padded coat I’m wearing. Because I’m slightly ill-acquainted, I keep wiping the windows instead of signalling my intent to other road users. I think back and wonder how I ran one every day without becoming fatigued by it. Perhaps it was just the exuberance of youth, or maybe I’ve being spoilt by the hush and ease of use of modern vehicles. Whatever it is, once you forgive it of being of its age, and apply it to an open road, spin the engine up and you’ll forgive it practically anything.
Brilliant write-up. Seems like you have a fantastic car with all those extra goodies and I'm almost jealous. The Integra is great out of the box but I think yours has been tastefully modified taking it up another level in terms of raw driving experience and performance. I'm pretty sure this has made up for the disappointment of not getting your old car back from me when the deal fell through. Very nice looking car and definitely a great purchase........ Enjoy!!! I’ve been delving into the writings of Bulgin and Setright recently, so I thought I’d have a go at writing up my purchase properly. Just a bit of fun though, lads.
The buying process quickly escalated through a fear of missing the speculative rise in price once the Type R becomes eligible for the USA (2020). There were originally just 3000 ITRs destined for the US, and the market remains hot, with a clean one being worth over $30,000. They’ll surely go mental for the Japanese version which will drag the prices of imported cars up over here, well, I think it will. With this in mind, and not wanting to miss the boat, I found a clean Japanese spec imported car on Ebay just before Christmas. It was towards the top of the market, but I am buying to keep long term, alongside my classic Alfa. You know how it is, I quickly became obsessed with my quarry, as this Integra was a bit special. And as we all know, It’s all about the chase.
As I mentioned previously, back in 2003, and at the age of 22, I managed to get my bum in a 1999 UK model Integra Type R - the one that looks a bit like a T200 Celica, with four lamps in a Chevette-like drooped snout. It was the first car which really blurred the hedges for me, and despite the initial allure of the Championship White Honda, with its matching white 15” alloys and boot mounted wing, not to mention those torso hugging red Recaro Speed front seats, I didn’t know quite what I had, until I had it.
Fast forward 12 years, and a serendipitous occurrence of being offered my old car back (sadly the deal fell through) ignited the DC2 flame again. Since casting my beloved noisy companion aside in favour of a Techno Violent M3 Evolution, I often wished I could have kept it.
I don’t know if you are hirsute on these early Type Rs, but after the lightweight variant of the type NA1 NSX, the NSX-R, Honda’s skunkworks equivalent (Championship White stripe, surely) turned their hand to their small coupe, the Integra. One of the reasons for this was to homologate the car for FIA competition, so I like to think that the engineers behind the car got a green light to indulge their desires, rather than create the ITR for commercial reasons. The fact of the matter is that Honda lost money on every DC2-R they made, but although it was a lost leader, they were determined to build the Type R brand and refused to put out a compromised product. That’s the thing about this Type R, despite being quite objectively focussed, it isn’t clinical. When you get into one, it clearly has character and gives the impression that it has been put together with care and attention to detail.
Care and attention to detail in many areas as well. It’s not just a lighter shell with a hot motor. Consequently, it feels more than the sum of its parts. The suspension arms were developed specifically for the car and larger brakes fitted, both of which are a bit heavier, so thinner glass was used for the windows. The car has no sound deadening material in the boot, behind the door cards, or on the firewall, adding lightness. The shell has been seam welded to make it stiffer. There is a strut brace under the bonnet, and a bolted in bar on the rear panel in the boot to aid in balanced weight distribution between front and back axles. The car also wears light little Enkei wheels which save un-sprung mass, which we are told is important. You also had to option air conditioning, ABS, the small red LCD digital clock, the rear wiper and the stereo. My car, a Japanese 1998 spec (with the luxury of a/c) weighs in at around 1010kg.
Now, despite all the effort on the rest of the car, the Lobster Futomaki amongst a plate of already tantalising morsels is really the engine, but you have to bide your time before the magic happens. Firstly, you have to disarm the antiquated immobiliser, which is a carbon effect fob with a sticky rubber button. After pressing, you have 30 seconds or so to get in and start the engine. Inserting the lovely, JDM only, key, compete with the ‘Integra Type R’ script, the starter motor spins quick and high pitched, not unlike a motorbike. At tick over the engine is quiet and uninspiring, despite the Mugen exhaust system and intake. And it’s rather like this on the move as well, grit and road detritus pinging around the wheel wells. The throttle is very sensitive, and any travel right at the top of the pedal makes the revs sore. Consequentially, it’s a little difficult to pull away cleanly, and can be a bit of a pain in start stop traffic. I find its best to leave a gap of a few cars before pulling away. This is exasperated by my car’s aftermarket Spoon clutch and flywheel, which I find best to slip a little bit, but once you are rolling, the feeling through the pedals is direct and easily moderated. Instantly it all comes flooding back, including something I’d forgotten, a little whistle as the butterfly on the throttle body opens through a certain angle, and the flow of air over it is akin to blowing across a bottle top. Another gear using the lozenge of titanium atop the gearstick that feels so small in the hand, and the car is starting to warm up a bit.
After a few further miles, the water and oil temperature has climbed, and we’re nearly set to unleash all those revs. The yellow needle in the tacho can wind all the way around to 9600rpm in this car, a distant white numeral on a black faced clock, due to the Hondata ECU lurking in the passenger footwell that not only increases the redline, but also lowers the point at which the secondary cam profile is engaged from 5800 to 5000. This means that you are less likely to drop out of the VTEC cam profile after gear changing when you are really on it. Consequentially, at faster cruising speeds, you can easily get the needle past 5k in 5th gear, such is the shortness of the ‘box, and the Kilometre speedo means that you are often travelling a touch quicker than you think. The Hondata affords a launch control too, which bounces the revs at 3000rpm like some sort of crazy anti-lag system, allowing you to leave with squeeling tyres as the engine reaches its stride. Effective.
Turning off the main route then, and time to run through the revs. The car comes alive. Suddenly you smile, you get it. I wind the engine out right into the red area reserved for hi-jinx and the engine light comes on. ‘s
t, I’ve broken it!’ I think, but I’ve just found another feature of the ECU, a shift light. Realisation sets in, and the grin spreads further. I squeeze the throttle again, firmly, and the engine becomes gruffer with a hard induction noise like it’s on twin Webers. Through 6,7,8,9 thousand rpm. We’re really travelling now, hedges, gates, walls all flashing by the windows and appearing quickly through the low screen. Onto the brakes then for an upcoming right hander, and the pedal is absolutely with you, firm and progressive under foot. A side step of the throttle and down a gear, before we’re on it again. Over some mud and the Advan A08Rs juggle the grip through the trick torsen lsd in the front axle. Corners next, and the car is adjustable under brakes, the back wheels toeing in a little due to the setup at the rear. Once you find your apex, you can just give the car everything. That front end somehow pulling you further into the corner and dragging you out of it with a slightly nose high stance, screaming engine. Yes, I remember why I loved this car, and why it still entertains today. For me this car pulls on the heart strings of nostalgia. With the HIDs burning blue against the mellow yellow of the sidelights, in my head I’m there inside Gran Turismo on the Tokyo Express Way, zooming between the pools of sulphur yellow light on the dark tarmac, surrounded by obscure JDM exotica.
In reality, driving it on a typically busy winter morning on the way to work, it does make you feel special. You get the occasional admiring glance or a thumbs up from those in the know, but you quickly realise how long it's been since 1998. The Honda is basic, if not well built from white painted metal, shiny plastic and coarse fabrics. Direct, noisy, highly strung. Its low, and somewhat crashy over rough roads due to the stiff sided rubber. There’s an annoying squeak coming from the parcel shelf’s rubber pegs as well, and the reach of the wheel is a bit restrictive in the padded coat I’m wearing. Because I’m slightly ill-acquainted, I keep wiping the windows instead of signalling my intent to other road users. I think back and wonder how I ran one every day without becoming fatigued by it. Perhaps it was just the exuberance of youth, or maybe I’ve being spoilt by the hush and ease of use of modern vehicles. Whatever it is, once you forgive it of being of its age, and apply it to an open road, spin the engine up and you’ll forgive it practically anything.
Edited by joesnow on Tuesday 30th January 12:40
Edited by joesnow on Tuesday 30th January 14:57
Edited by Koolkat969 on Tuesday 30th January 21:59
Good afternoon chaps. (Oh and please don't quote pic heavy posts)
The last few days I have been mostly thinking small..........
Too much traffic on the road.
Not enough decent roads to exploit mega horsepower chariots (NSL limits seem a thing of the past around here).
Low(er) running costs (in theory).
Inoffensive to other road users.
Cheapish to buy.
Plus I look normal size in them. Almost.
Let the ribbing commence:
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The last few days I have been mostly thinking small..........
Too much traffic on the road.
Not enough decent roads to exploit mega horsepower chariots (NSL limits seem a thing of the past around here).
Low(er) running costs (in theory).
Inoffensive to other road users.
Cheapish to buy.
Plus I look normal size in them. Almost.
Let the ribbing commence:
I really quite fancy a FFRR, a nice 2014 TDV8 with a Main Dealer 2 year warranty is easily under £45k now. Something like this in fact...
https://www.autotrader.co.uk/classified/advert/201...
I feel a bit wrong for wanting one, and in reality it would really just be the wife driving it but they're lovely things to tool about in.
https://www.autotrader.co.uk/classified/advert/201...
I feel a bit wrong for wanting one, and in reality it would really just be the wife driving it but they're lovely things to tool about in.
L100NYY said:
Good afternoon chaps. (Oh and please don't quote pic heavy posts)
The last few days I have been mostly thinking small..........
I have to completely agree Loon. The last few days I have been mostly thinking small..........
My RS4 is in for a dent and I have the bodyshop's little Toyota Aygo.
Now, its over assisted and basic, but I had to go over to the Welsh border in it, and due to stupid traffic I was running close to being late.
Applying the diddy 3cyl engine, which was quite audible due to minimal sound deadening, to the narrow B roads was actually quite a blast. Its as long as it is wide, and felt diminutive on the road.
I did think if that was the level of my automotive reach, there's still a lot of fun to be had.
It also occurred to me that the little Aygo is lighter and more powerful than my first car, a 1.4 8v Astra.
Incidentally my Dad is looking at those S660s, as he had a Honda Beat many moons ago. They need the SVA doing before being road legal, but they strangely appeal.
Joe;
Ref the 3cyl Aygo.....they are great fun arent they. A friend has one (her 2nd now) and she still doesn't believe me when I tell her how much fun it is to drive. Love the thrum of the engine.
I've always been a fan of small cars, just love the thrashability and grin factor of them.....back to Cinq and Seiecento Sportings!
Ref the 3cyl Aygo.....they are great fun arent they. A friend has one (her 2nd now) and she still doesn't believe me when I tell her how much fun it is to drive. Love the thrum of the engine.
I've always been a fan of small cars, just love the thrashability and grin factor of them.....back to Cinq and Seiecento Sportings!
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