Hammond drives the icons: Honda NSX

From the fuss made by Audi and the smug ‘early adopters’ who rushed to buy them and be first to commute to work in them, you could have believed that the R8 really was the first ‘everyday supercar’. Except it wasn’t.  More than two decades ago, Honda introduced the NSX. The name stood for New Sportscar eXperimental.

Words: Richard Hammond

Pics: Justin Leighton

This article originally appeared in the June 2012 issue of Top Gear magazine 

I know, snappy title – maybe it’s a language thing. But, naming aside, with an aluminium V6 mid-mounted in the aluminium chassis and all covered with that wedge-shaped body made of, you guessed it, aluminium, there was no doubting it was a supercar. It looked more supercar than some supercars of the time. And if the naff name stuck in your craw, there was another name closely associated with the NSX that more than made up for it. Ayrton Senna helped develop it, particularly the chassis, and was seen driving the things all over the world. That kind of stuff helps sell a car.

The engine featured Honda’s Variable Valve Timing and Lift Electronic Control, VTEC system (I know, I know, that’s VVTLEC, but, as I think we’ve worked out, it’s a language thing), which lets the car operate with reasonable civility in normal circumstances or scream its head off and go completely mental should the occasion demand.

Damn, it still looks good. It really does. This is a 20-year-old car that hasn’t so much dated as become more subdued – it doesn’t scream and demand that you look at it among modern traffic, but when you do, you can only admire the considered, stylish form. It’s long, low, wide and sophisticated.

The interior has aged less well. Suddenly I’m in a land of late yuppiedom, Psion handhelds battling for superiority with Filofaxes and unbelievably bad clothes. The leather feels glossy, too shiny, and the two switch binnacles either side of the steering wheel remind of those in a Citroen BX. Not particularly good things, any of them.

But, look up, and you realise that you really are perched down low between the front wheels. The noise is, as the looks would suggest, pretty subdued, especially pulling away, but there is all that howling V6 business available at the prod of the throttle. Not all good news when you stamp on that particular pedal, though.

Sure, 60mph comes up in just five seconds, but tip it into a corner, and there is smeary, dreary understeer. Get more jiggly with the pedal, and it’ll sort itself out though, and, let’s not forget, tyre technology has moved on a hell of a lot since Del Boy was king, and a new set of rubber might just cancel out the disappointment. Get past that, and it feels tight, taut and balanced.

The ride is really impressive, smooth and composed – within minutes, I found myself thinking, “Wow, this is a supercar you could use every day.” And it is. It’s got the looks, the pedigree – thanks to the Senna connection – and the performance. You can find them from about 10 grand, but it would be worth saving up, maybe selling a pet or living in the shed and going for the later, larger-capacity version (3179cc, 290bhp) or even a post-facelift model where the pop-up headlamps were deleted and replaced with something a bit more modern.

I know I’m a 911 fan, and, yes, the Porker is truly the best sports car in the world and something you can use every day. But it’s not, and never has been, a supercar. It’s a sports car.

This, with its mid-engine, ally construction, wedge body and Senna connection is an everyday supercar. Sorry, Audi – Honda was there first.