Everywhere else, it's just a nondescript box with a not–too–impressive 127HP pushing along 940 kilos of period–typical parts. Bring it onto a narrow, tightly winding mountain pass however, and this thing seemingly gains a whole new personality, a whole new identity, a whole new
life, as though it were possessed by something beyond our world. The whole package comes alive and made me believe all the hype and every hyperbole that has ever been propagated about the car, which is almost entirely unheard of for a car starring in a cult classic show. Move aside, DMC-12s, Firebirds, Countachs, and Supras, because this week, we've got an AE86 to catch if it doesn't suddenly decide to sprout wings mid race.
But what is it exactly that makes an AE86 so legendary? After all, it's not like it's the only car that has a 50:50 weight distribution, FR chassis, lightweight body, and a rev happy engine mated to a stick shift, right? Me personally, I think the car has a lot of character, and that's something you can't really print on a spec sheet or an ad. The car is so willingly, naturally playful, and I'm often sideways before I realise anything's gone awry. The combination of said weight distribution, a lightweight body, communicative steering, and lack of grip means that it doesn't become snappy even with its playfulness, and slides can be held and recovered on
whim alone. As Rob's car alludes to, this AE86 is a car that you can steer with the rear and gas pedal as much as you can turn the car with the front tyres, and it acts as if it's the most natural thing in the world whether you choose to steer it from the front, rear, or both.
I'm going to be grossly overusing the "N" word, but whether by design or the most absurd of coincidences, Toyota engineers have put together a package that is so cohesive and
natural, I wouldn't want to change a thing about it despite its strong aftermarket support; the car turns—not too much, but enough to put it exactly where you mean to put it, as though it could read your mind. The car goes—but not at a scary pace, just enough to get you to the next corner. The car rolls; but not too much—just enough for you to break grip on the unladen side and let you initiate a slide without touching the handbrake. The brakes stop the car; but not so much where you're at any risk of locking the old, thin tyres in the dry, just enough to get them to smoke and squeal when subject to the aforementioned weight transfer. Everything about the car just feels so intuitive and just... "right", as though you were moving your own hands and feet instead of trying to control an external mechanical being. The ease this car sets my mind as I drive it, letting me not think of a thing and just enjoying the experience, is almost like that of taking a walk in a forest—again,
natural, alive, and just so "right".
But of course, this car has been renowned to train its driver, and so it can be as technical and demanding a drive as you want. Usually, cars are either easy or challenging to drive, but the AE86 somehow manages to not only straddle that line between the two, but it excels at
both! Try to extract every hundredth of a second from this car, and it will definitely start to judge you silently if you overcook a corner and lose precious, palpable momentum to excessive body roll, excessive yaw, or letting the engine revs dip out of its
powerband. The soft suspension asks of the driver to be gradual and gentle, yet decisive in what they ask of the car, as sharp, sudden inputs will upset the
softly sprung car, which can also be exploited to a surgical precision if you so choose. It deeply romanticises the process of load transfers and friction circles, dictating a deliberate pace it wants with its driver, and I definitely found myself wishing for a nearly filled cup of water in my centre console during race day just so I would be physically punished for mistreating the car and conditioned to not do so again, given how effortlessly playful it is. It's almost impossible to take a race seriously in this car without stiffening the suspension of the car, like Fujiwara Bunta did when his son was about to race an R32.
The world's biggest gutter, where my driving skills lie.
The more time I spend with the car, the more "happy accidents" I have with it, wherein I overspeed into a corner, panic and have to initiate the rear end to slide out to avoid going face first into a wall, and sometimes, somehow, I find myself taking the corner faster than the lap before when I thought I got the corner right. It dares drivers to go just that little bit faster into a corner, be that little bit more hesitant with the brakes, and more eager on the throttle, because it can and will handle a slight amount of abuse with its tools that allow you the freedom to adjust it several times mid corner to take it in a number of different ways. Most importantly, it richly rewards experimentation and risk taking, which makes for a dangerously addictive combination. The trust that this very, very charismatic car earns in its driver, and how it eggs them on, is something entirely unmatched in all my time driving cars in this game. It somehow manages to make you feel like a movie star with just 95kW when you pull some heroics with the car, intentionally or otherwise. This car is so compelling and charismatic, it feels more than the sum of its mechanical parts, almost as though an emotive, living being. I find myself irreversibly and irresistibly entranced by the charisma and communication of the car. I want to spend more time with it. I feel like I could spend a lifetime with this car and keep finding extra hundredths of a second with it. I feel so compelled to find out more about myself, via finding out more about it, by driving it endlessly. I want to race all sorts of cars and people in it on all sorts of courses and under some of the most uncomfortable conditions, because I feel like this car isn't nearly done teaching me more about both itself and myself. It's... quite simply magical.
While other movie star cars tend to fall apart and unravel the mystique of the shows they starred in the moment they're driven in any sort of realistic scenario, my time in the AE86s has instead made me realise how much of real life experience has been transcribed into Initial D, despite appearing as nothing more than a self–indulgent fantasy at first glance. More than that, it made me believe all the ridiculous tales of how an AE86 could train its driver, how it could be driven in a number of ways according to the situation, and how it could even best some more modern giants like an R32 and an Evo IV. Well, the part where it beats an RX-7 is still a load of horse sh-
-it might actually be possible with the right driver, huh?
So what exactly are the differences between the Levin and Trueno? Well, their names mean "
lightning" and "
thunderclap", respectively, so you might think that the Levin would be the faster of the two. Both on paper and in practice, however, the two cars are identical as far as I can tell aside from the
Levin being 25.4mm (an inch)
shorter in length, so the choice between the two comes down to whether you prefer the simplicity, reliability, and gentleness on pedestrians that the fixed headlights of the Levin offer, or being correct, valid, and worthy of love. Both cars are decked out with their optional
electronic gauges, which is both cool and a bit of a shame at the same time, as I had hoped that at least one of them would have their
traditional gauges to more closely resemble the ones depicted in Initial D. And speaking of, Watanabe Wheels aren't even in the game, so there goes any hope of accurately replicating Fujiwara Takumi's Tofu car. You'd think that that's the first (and for most, only) thing people would want to do to an AE86 both in real life and virtually, but apparently Kaz and PD are too cool for that.
So what separates the AE86 from other cars of its period like the S13, Roadster, and MR2? Part of the AE86's charm, I think the clichés of "character", "soul", and how it "speaks" to a driver might regrettably be the most apt at describing; no other car feels as addictively compelling as the AE86 and pushes their drivers like it does, from any time period or any country. As though being the star of a cult classic anime isn't enough on its own, "Drift King" Tsuchiya Keiichi swears by one and
still dailies his very unique
cross ratio gearbox Trueno, and that I think is the highest praise a car can receive, no exceptions. He is a man whom I idolise, attempt to emulate, and whose opinion I trust as truth as though gospel. Star power like that, there's simply no arguing against. Could another car have taken the AE86's place both in fiction and reality? Perhaps. But I think the totally nondescript look of the 86 really sells a strong narrative. As much as the 86 made the careers of Shigeno Shuichi and Tsuchiya Keiichi, I think in equal parts, those men have made the 86 into the legend that it is today. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that without those two, we wouldn't have a modern 86 to enjoy today.
In conclusion, anyone who even
thinks that they love cars owes it to themselves to try driving a bone stock AE86, either in real life or virtually. Hell, I even want my prospective wife to drive one, because if she doesn't enjoy it, I don't think we'll work out. The AE86 is an ode to going slowly enough to appreciate the small details in life and to remember to enjoy the journey when their off times when they're not trying their best. It is critically endangered proof that we needn't much in life to be happy, as long as everything is done right and balanced beautifully. It is a car that deeply romanticises the naturally mechanical sensations of a car and a drive, and serves as a constant reminder of how hard every component of the car, and indeed our lives, are working for us, and reminds me to be mindful, kind, and thankful for them with that awareness. It is a metaphor materialised for the beauty in a honest, communicative relationship, and the timelessness of love. Every time I drive one, I'm amazed anew at how much fun it is to wring around a tight, uneven track. And most importantly, it makes me smile and
laugh every time I drive it.
I am going to be so very,
very torn when it comes time to cast my vote for Car of the Year 2021.
WHY do I always manage to miss the best cars?!
