Many visit Japan as tourists. The sights and sounds, the exotic smells, the hustle and bustle of Tokyo . . . I’d compare it to a diving excursion; you know you’re not a part of this world, but just a visitor. The tourist’s experience is an escape from the norm, an oasis of calm—none of the deadlines, bosses to please, nor schedules to adhere that the natives bear.
In contrast, my visits to Japan are seldom so perfect. Having lived here a few years back, there are friends I want to see (more than I can ever manage), in-laws to visit, dozens of cousins/aunts/uncles, automotive contacts to appease, and of course, these articles I sign myself up for. Not that I’m complaining—I love the gig and the travel, but the same imperfections can be said of visiting Japanese tuning garages. Demo cars are often in some back corner, collecting dust, many times un-assembled as never-ending work on them continues. Many are dedicated race cars, and thus have no license plates and cannot be driven on public roads. Not that that matters much—the typical tuning garage is small, in an unsightly part of town, and offers little to no room for photo shoots. Google any of Top Secret’s cars and see how many have been shot in front of the shop’s blue and white exterior.
Perhaps the worst part of the gig is interacting with the people. Being American-born Japanese, the senior editors love me for my ability to speak the language and infiltrate these often-unknown tuning garages. But to their owners and staff, I’m some undereducated shmuck who can’t speak properly. Certainly my Japanese is good enough for 90 percent of the situations I get myself into, but at tuning garages we’re talking about engineers and mechanics—usually not the most social nor empathetic types. I might as well be speaking urban jive to an Oxford University recruiter.
Imagine my surprise when we visited Endless, in Kobe. First off, they’re in the sticks amongst rice patties and forest. When we arrive, we see the usual array of Skylines and such in the garage, but what really floored me was the person who greeted us: Rick Colgate, Officer of Export Sales. Apparently, tuning Japanese cars is at a fever pitch in his native country of England, not unlike the level that it hit in the U.S. in the late ’90s/early ’00s, but with a bonus: JDM vehicles older than 10 years can be legally imported into the U.K. and street driven. Anybody who’s studied Japanese knows there’s a level of formality that is often cumbersome, but Rick set that aside and spoke colloquial English. To make things more perfect, the empty lot behind Endless has a picturesque bamboo forest behind it, an ideal backdrop for photos. But best of all, Rick showed us this Bayside Blue R34 we were to shoot.
You see those fenders. No, this car is not an authentic Z-tune, but a mix of real Nismo and Do-Luck pieces on the exterior, and strategically chosen everything else to give it looks and performance to rival one. One day, when the import generation is old and gray, and those in it wealthy enough to drive the price of each one of the original 20 Z-tunes into collectable status, the Endless recipe seen here will allow wage-limited enthusiasts like us to embarrass their performance with base-model GT-Rs.
Shinya Kaga is the pioneer of the concept, and the one who commissioned Endless to build this example. Possibly his most radical move was to convert to an IHI Turbo, model T90-R; a unit initially developed for semi-trucks which was adapted by Endless to the RB26DETT powerplant for the same reason it was originally bolted to Cummins Diesel mills—to build superior low/mid-range power and torque. Corner exit speeds are dramatically improved when power comes on in the lower part of the rev range, and yes, this R34 was built specifically to best its collectible brethren on its home turf—the street and the track, alike.