Cartorque Vol 17 - ‘The Skyline’
The Nissan Skyline, what a car. To call it a “cult classic” is like calling Mount Everest “a decent hill.” It’s an icon, a legend, and, let’s be honest, a bit of an obsession for people like you and I. But why did it reach this almost fanatical level of worship? Well, buckle up, because it’s going to be a bumpy, exhilarating ride.
First of all, there’s the sheer audacity of the thing. Nissan, or rather its performance division at the time, decided that the Skyline wasn’t going to just be a reasonably priced commuter. No, it was going to be a rocket disguised as a saloon, a car that could haunt dreams and humiliate far more expensive machinery. The Skyline GT-R, particularly the R32, was affectionately dubbed Godzilla by the Japanese press, and rightly so. It had the power, the precision, and the menace of a monster. Four-wheel drive, twin-turbo engines, technological wizardry that was decades ahead of its time, this was not a car that apologised for existing.
But technology alone doesn’t create a cult. Otherwise, the Jaguar XJ220 would be in every petrolhead’s shrine, and while lovely, it isn’t worshipped in quite the same way. No, the Skyline became a cult because it hit that perfect sweet spot between attainable and untouchable. On one hand, you could buy one second-hand without selling a kidney. On the other, it could still embarrass Ferraris and Porsches at the track if you had the nerve and the skill or, the sheer stupidity to push it. That combination of accessibility and outrageous capability? That’s a recipe for obsession.
Then there’s the look. Oh, the look. Some cars are elegant, some are brutal, some are just plain odd. The Skyline GT-R manages to be all three at once. Those sharp lines, the aggressive stance, the tail-lights that could signal doom from half a mile away, it’s like Nissan drew up a car that looks fast even when it’s standing still. And, crucially, it doesn’t try too hard. It’s not flashy, it doesn’t scream “look at me, I’m rich.” It’s more like it’s whispering, I will destroy your car if you give me half a chance.
And of course, the media. Films like The Fast and the Furious may have turned the Skyline into a poster child for street racing, but the real cult status was built on the streets and circuits of Japan, the tuners’ garages, and the forums where obsessive fans argued over turbos, suspension tweaks, and paint codes. The Skyline wasn’t just a car; it was a lifestyle, a badge of nerdy honour for people who genuinely understood what torque at 4,000 rpm meant.
So, in short: it’s fast, it’s clever, it’s attainable yet untouchable, it looks like it will bite your head off, and it has a cultural mystique built over decades. That is why the Nissan Skyline didn’t just become a cult classic it became a religion. And like all religions worth following, once you’re in, you never, ever leave.
Adam Woodruff
Writer
