The Situation
Standing idly beside your hometown performance shop's Dynojet for the second time in a week, you eagerly await testing to commence on your daily driven '06 Nissan 350Z. You're a newcomer to building up late-model performance imports, but not to the tuning scene altogether; you and the shop's crew strapped more than a few past project cars to these rollers back in the day-but you hadn't picked up a wrench in years until a few weeks ago, when you decided to modify the car with a few modest bolt-ons. Until that point, you had driven it factory fresh since buying it new, fearing that adding the first part would trigger a relapse; you know where that path leads all too well...and you're not letting the only new car you've ever owned end up a track machine or parts donor.
Your first step was to replace the stock exhaust with a larger diameter, straight-through aftermarket alternative. The new exhaust's structural improvements were apparent at first glance, and the trusty butt dyno registered a positive gain in power after the installation. Following suit, you yanked the OE headers and large, dense catalysts for higher flow replacements that seemed to bring even more ponies to the stable; the exhaust note grew more aggressive, and your Z seemed to race toward redline far easier than before. Finally, you tackled the last remaining restriction to engine aspiration, and replaced your factory airbox, MAFS housing and intake plumbing with the best aftermarket cold-air induction system on the market. Basic bolt-on mods complete, your Z sounded downright mean cracked wide-open on the highway-it was time to find just how much additional power the mods were worth.
Fast-forward to the present. "I have to warn you," your long time friend-turned-tuner cautions, as he lashed the Z to the shop's in-ground Dynojet, "These newer cars don't make as much with bolt-ons as the older cars did." But you dismiss his words. Baselining at 225 whp before any modification began, your Z belted out almost twice what your B18 did back in the day, and the same mods performed to the Z would've brought a solid 15-20 whp improvement to the 'Teg's front wheels. And judging by the car's on-street performance driving to the shop, you confidently expect at least 30 additional horses. The beast fires up, throttles to redline through a Fourth gear pull, and after a quick survey of the number of shop staff standing around with their fingers in their ears, you feel reassured-30 horses, definitely ...Maybe even 35...
The Problem
But as the results come back, you're shocked. After the addition of three-time-honored bolt-on modifications-an investment of over $2K-you're told the Z's VQ35 received a bump in power to the tune of 1 whp. 1 whp?! What the f---?!
Now you're confused and a little pissed. The car has definite potential, but you can't seem to find it. You reason that hacking in an air/fuel controller might even things out a bit, but thinking back to the days you battled with piggybacks on your swapped EG induces a panic sweat; you'd rather stock the car than have to deal with check engine lights and spotty reliability. Converting to a standalone EMS is an attractive option-when the day comes that you decide to make your Z a dedicated race machine. And then there's ROM tuning. When you handed over the keys to your last Honda project years ago, Crome was just starting to catch on and the benefits of chip burning were hard to beat for the OBD 1 cars. But you're not dealing with a 13-year-old Integra anymore; your 350 is a brand-new car. Replacing factory chips with custom-burned ones? You might as well write the car's manufacturer directly, and request that its factory warranty be revoked.