So, I bought a Nissan S15: Part 1

Just over a year ago I purchased an S15 Silvia from Japan. Here's part 1 of its journey.

1999 Nissan S15 Silvia Spec R by The Road Beat

Words and pictures: Mitchell Weitzman

There’s no shortage of guides and advice online about importing a Japanese classic under the federal 25-year rule, and this article isn’t meant to be another one of those. Instead, consider this an update on what it’s like occasionally driving a 26-year-old Japanese car that was never sold in the United States. Against my own expectations, I’ve grown to genuinely love my Nissan S15—converting this longtime skeptic of a drift-era icon into a true S-chassis enthusiast.

I never thought I’d own an S-chassis Nissan. I’ve admired the occasional well-built S13 or S14 from afar, but S15s always felt reserved for Gran Turismo fantasies. In fact, I did own one in Gran Turismo 5: finished in yellow, big wing and all, earning a place in my virtual garage. Still, they never compared—at least in my mind—to the six-cylinder RB-powered Skylines of the same era. R32s and R33s remain somewhat attainable, but the R34 market has jumped the shark by a skyscraper-sized margin. And besides, could I ever really own a four-cylinder car? My real-world garage history had never dipped below a V6, from a 370Z to the silky BMW inline-sixes of E36 and E46 (non-M, unfortunately) lore.

So why did I buy an S15? Simple: my buddy accidentally bought two.

Two S15s, the day they arrived to their new home

He was only trying to purchase one, but after going zero-for-ten on previous attempts, a pair of automatic high bids placed on two cars in the same night resulted in two unexpected wins. Having grown accustomed to losing auctions, he suddenly had a surplus. I was offered the “reject” of the pair—which I was perfectly happy to accept, especially since it was cheaper and had fewer miles.

A couple of months later, two Silvia Spec Rs arrived stateside, both equipped with six-speed manual transmissions, right-hand drive, and the legendary SR20DET. To my surprise, aside from a mild body kit, my car was mechanically stock—a rarity for a platform so often modified into oblivion. It was even in decent cosmetic shape, save for a cracked front bumper, some dashboard damage, and four unfortunate holes in the trunk where a generic Fast and the Furious wing had once lived. The body kit was later discovered to be by Impul, the legendary Nissan racing team famous for the classic Calsonic Skyline in Super GT.  It was technically auction grade R (couple areas repainted), but overall very good shape!

After some basic maintenance—oil change, spark plug inspection, new brake pads, and a full system bleed—the Silvia revealed itself to be exactly what it appeared to be: a healthy, fully functioning car.

So what were my first impressions of a stock Silvia Spec R? Very good.

The steering immediately impressed, offering quicker responses than an E36 or E46 BMW of the same era—closer in feel to the coveted ZHP rack. Handling was balanced, favoring mild understeer unless provoked. Mash the throttle like a game of whack-a-mole, however, and the car’s drift heritage reveals itself instantly, delivering wide, controllable slides with excellent modulation. Many modern performance cars feel edgy and nervous when oversteer arrives on public roads or spacious, abandoned intersections, but the Silvia remains remarkably relaxed. It didn’t take long to understand why these cars became drift legends.

Pushed hard on back roads, the suspension reveals its softness, allowing a fair amount of body roll. This wasn’t helped by the 215/55 economy tires mounted on the white Work wheels it arrived with, though they did at least provide clear communication at the limit. The rear subframe also exhibited noticeable internal pitch and roll, occasionally making the rear end feel as if it were moving laterally and vertically at the same time. Even so, the car remained a joy to drive—just with lower limits than a modern sports car, or even a contemporary commuter on decent rubber.

And the engine—the infamous turbocharged SR20DET? Honestly, it sounded like a vacuum cleaner.

The stock exhaust and restrictive airbox certainly didn’t help. There were no turbo noises to speak of, just appliance-like sounds from both ends of the car. Four-cylinders have always sat at the bottom of my personal totem pole, lacking the sonorous smoothness of even an average inline-six or flat-six. That said, the SR20 itself was surprisingly smooth in operation, free of the gnarly trash-compactor noises that plague some modern Toyota engines. It may not sing, but at least it doesn’t sound like it’s shredding itself internally.

As for power—eh. Despite its quoted 246 horsepower and relatively light curb weight of around 2,850 pounds, it didn’t feel particularly quick. In fact, it felt noticeably slower than the last Volkswagen Golf GTI I tested, despite similar power figures and a significant weight advantage. Of course, the SR20’s reputation for making big power is well-earned, and that’s a problem easily solved—perhaps already in progress.

One pleasant surprise was just how quiet and comfortable the Silvia is on the freeway. Road noise is well controlled, and the suspension soaks up bumps with ease thanks to its soft spring rates. Interior rattles were largely absent, too, with late-model Nissan interiors representing a clear step up from the S14 and R33 era in both build quality and materials.

I also genuinely enjoy the six-speed manual transmission. Shifting with the left hand becomes second nature after only a few drives, and each gear is clearly defined. It’s a satisfying gearbox to row through, even if the clutch pedal itself feels a bit too light and spongy.

Despite my lukewarm first impression, each drive in the Silvia steadily nurtured a deeper appreciation for this unlikely hero because how good it was at so many things. Before long, the urge grew to replace tired suspension components and elevate this Spec R into one of the best examples in the country. Then I lost the battle to not help unleash a few more horsepower and boost pressure.

The original auction photo from Japan

Simply put, at under $30,000, the Spec R is a more engaging and capable car than any E36 M3 I’ve driven—and it offers enormous upside potential to surpass not only those cars, but many modern BMWs as well, all while promising greater long-term reliability. Rather than follow the well-worn path of slammed ride heights and drift-only setups that so many S-chassis cars are subjected to, my goal is to build a Silvia analogous to a Porsche GT car or BMW CS/CSL: a focused, back-road and track-ready weapon.

Stay tuned for more updates on The Road Beat Silvia, as we dive headfirst into the seemingly endless aftermarket—and some surprisingly accessible factory support—right here in the United States.

Why the Silvia Spec R Matters

1999 Nissan Silvia S15 Spec R (JDM)

• Engine: SR20DET2.0-liter turbocharged inline-four

• Output: ~246 hp (gentlemen’s agreement era)

• Transmission: 6-speed manual (Spec R only)

• Drivetrain: Rear-wheel drive

• Differential: Helical limited-slip differential (Spec R)

• Curb Weight: ~2,850 lbs

• Steering: Hydraulic power steering

• Suspension: Front MacPherson strut; Rear Multi-link

• Brakes: Four-wheel disc

• Production Market: Japan-only (200SX exported Australia and a handful of other countries)

• U.S. Availability: 25-year import eligible

Spec R vs Spec S:

The Spec R was the enthusiast’s choice, pairing the turbocharged SR20DET with a six-speed manual and factory LSD. Lower trims (Spec S) made do with a naturally aspirated engine, five-speed gearbox, and open differential—fine cars, but missing the hardware that cemented the S15’s reputation.