Your friend group is made up of more or less like minded Adrenalin junkies who all take enjoyment in going fast and being idiots. They all talk about one day having a group dick around car. Some turd y’all can beat on and share, maybe one day take to lemons. One night, such an opportunity arises: an Infinity J30

One dead neighbor and a friend’s uninterested father later, one member of the group is now in possession of an Infinity J30. After a quick google search, we learns its the same v6 as an NA z32 300zx… in principle… and it’s RWD!? That’s when the gears start turning in our heads, but between all of our different ideas (from a full restoration, swamp mobile, LeMons racer, etc) we had our car.

So what’s a J30 like? The car was pretty much pristine, being owned by some elderly snowbirds. Slow, yeah. Body roll? A lot. Brakes… uh it had them. Did it rev? Eh. The car would tend to get hot when it idled, and the engine, not exhaust, was fairly loud and gutless. According to Pimp, it also “Smelled like old people”.

The styling for an luxury sedan with today’s eyes is comedic in how bland and bubbly the car is, though the rear light design was unique. The interior was comfortable, and complete with a CD player (HIGH ROLLING!), although grey on wood goes as well as a BP oil rig and the Gulf of Mexico.

To be honest, it could’ve been any 20 year old car. It wouldn’t have mattered much to us if we had a j30 or an e28 (which is a story for another time), for that one night, us dumbasses had our car. In all it’s mid 90’s Japanese luxury and old man grey squishy-ness. So what happened that night?

Abuse. Hard, early-20’s-angry-college-kid-fueled abuse. Pimp drove it. We took a journey to Walmart, all five of us, to get a plug in Bluetooth adaptor for the car. When he remembered it we RWD, the next leg of our journey became a half baked attempt at living out a formula D dream. Every bit of power the car didn’t have managed to break traction in the rear, sending the car sideways in the most hilarious way. Sitting in the back only exemplified this, being the bob at the end of a pendulum. Swapping seats, I sent the poor car down the only few corners we have in west Broward County, taking the car kicking and screaming though a farce of a handling test. It rolled, it screamed, while my friends acted as counterweights. Calm and composed this car was not. There is no “dancing on the needle of control, just brute oogabooga grug force, with keyboard driving levels of driver inputs. How did it do? It took the abuse and didn’t step out, but if you’re truly expecting a dissection of the performance credentials of a used j30, you’re better off buying a trashed bmw.

Next up was one friend who took it upon himself to put the car through a slalom test. Maybe he had great visions from beyond or maybe it was hard drugs, but he flawless navigated a course of non-existent cones, as the poor thing rolled from side to side like a dingy in a hurricane. Still better body control than a 2020 750i when put to the same test.

Finally, the car’s official owner took the car back, and swapped mechanical abuse for electrical. The sound system wasn’t bad, especially for it’s time. However, the music, now playing through Bluetooth, was cranked even louder, putting the 20-something-year-old speakers through an unimaginable torture. I assume the old man who owned the car did not intend to have “Friday Fahrenheit”, a 24 minute yodeling video, or any other equally horrific song bellowed out of those poor speakers. They where no worse for wear by the end of it all.

However, all good things eventually come to a end. And like The Republic of Texas or that one bitch, it’ll leave a lasting impact. And so it was, like methane in the wind, the j30 left as soon as it came. The weekend ended, we all left back for work or college, and my friend’s family had a need for the Infinity finally, so he had to give it up.

The night we all had the group car, will go down as one of my favorite driving experiences. It’s obviously not the same as playing with a sports car or even putting a poor rental through its paces. There’s a unique combination of truly not caring about the car, paired with the driver-passenger dynamic going on. The car rolls, everyone screaming (including the tires) and throwing insults, Italian Disco is at full blast, it settles out and attempts to accelerate, everyone’s laughing their ass off. You can’t replicate that on your own.

If you ever have the chance, pile everyone into a shit car, and go be stupid for a night. Just for the love of fuck don’t get arrested, “MSIMA doesn’t condone law breaking”.