You may not understand it, but it’s hard not to enjoy it.
The final chapter of the divisive second-gen Acura NSX was never going to be easy to write. The expectation to embody its name (a New SportseXperimental) in the same way the original car did was impossible to meet. The first generation introduced to the world the concept of the daily-driver supercar, a midship master class that could pass 300,000 miles without incident. Lionized since its death as an analog icon, the original NSX demanded a sequel. But replication or revision wouldn’t be enough. The initials required total reinvention.
This story originally appeared in Volume 10 of Road & Track.
What eventually arrived, after an excruciating series of teases and concepts, bore the hallmarks of clean-sheet thinking. The V-6 sported two turbochargers and three electric motors to ensure broad-spectrum thrust. Power went to all four wheels, with a trick torque-vectoring setup that would overdrive the outside front wheel to provide supernatural on-throttle cornering. The braking was entirely by wire, and the suspension was adjustable, a far cry from its ancestor. Everything was new, even the Ohio factory that built what was, in some respects, the most advanced supercar in its class.
The hybrid Acura NSX has never been short on thrust.
Todd Blubaugh
The response to such ambition was radio silence. Those who were laser-focused on the NSX waited in vain for a continuation of the original formula; everyone else was distracted by the new Ford GT, announced with a deviously timed mic drop at the same auto show. Early NSX models offered to the media had unfinished software and unimpressive rubber that disguised the car’s underlying goodness. Acura fixed the teething issues quickly enough that the final production car, on optional stickier tires, won our 2017 Performance Car of the Year, but not before public opinion hardened. The NSX, to many, was already a failure.
The model’s quickand communicative steering gets even better with the stickier rubber fitted to the Type S version.
Todd Blubaugh
That’s a shame, and not just for Acura. Goaded by premature criticism from the automotive media, enthusiasts wrote off this car before it had a chance to win them over. Detached from its legacy, the 2017 NSX was a stellar driver’s car. The steering was phenomenal, the brake-by-wire system natural, and the powertrain explosive. Things got even better for the 2019 midcycle update, yet it wasn’t enough to turn the tide. Sales numbers remained tiny, leaving the bespoke manufacturing facility with bandwidth to hand-build specialized cross-overs wearing NSX paint. The second-gen NSX approached its final year of production with its legacy unsettled. Enter the Type S, Acura’s last chance to take control of the narrative.
Parked under the Mojave sun, the brilliant Curva red Type S is a familiar sight. There’s no big wing, no Habsburg-jaw splitter. Just the same attractive shape accented by a pointier nose with more aggressive intakes and a larger carbon diffuser designed to mimic the NSX GT3 car. The motorsport inspiration continues underneath, with turbochargers pulled from the GT3 upping boost to 16.1 psi, raising internal-combustion power by 20 hp and torque by 37 lb-ft. A larger battery and a retuning of the motors raises the system’s peak output by 27 hp for a total of 600, and due to the complex way hybrids deliver peak torque, maximum twist climbs 16 lb-ft for a total of 492. Rounding out the package is a tweaked nine-speed dual-clutch automatic offering 50 percent quicker upshifts. The Type S has a wider track thanks to new wheels and stickier bespoke Pirelli high-performance asymmetric tires.
Arguing that this car is about more than numbers, Acura doesn’t provide acceleration figures for the NSX. Should you have to defend its honor, though, know that the last one we tested managed the 0–60 sprint in 3.1 seconds and this one should be quicker still. I line up to see for myself on the outskirts of Pioneertown, California.
The ramshackle 19th-century wooden town looks like a movie set because it was one. Built in the Forties for Westerns, Pioneertown hosted big productions with big names like Roy Rogers. (Eventually, the Old West movie set was sold off to private residents, its rickety wood-door prop saloon now an actual watering hole for locals.) A Wednesday afternoon here is an opening scene from a John Wayne movie, with nothing but Joshua trees and dust blowing nowhere in particular. The revs in launch mode hold steady at 2500 rpm; the turbos spool.
I accelerate down the empty main road, nose toward Twentynine Palms and the winding tarmac that takes me there, eager to make the most of the dwindling daylight. The NSX is equally eager but not brutal in its shove, a rubber band tied to the horizon, not a kick to the ass. The well-conducted symphony of the electric low end, the midrange turbocharged grunt, and the frantic coordination of the powertrain near its 7500-rpm redline keeps things interesting across the range. Tuner-car blowoff noises offer entertainment even as I brake for the first sweeper.
The original NSX is a tough act to follow, particularly as enthusiasts look back on it through the flattering filter of nostalgia.
Todd Blubaugh
Stability and speed come easy, but it’s in the tight sections where the NSX makes its case. Braking hard into a downhill switchback, I turn in hard, amazed by the darty nose and the sharp steering. With the wheel askew, instinct tells me not to venture too deep into the 600-hp power reserve. Experience with the NSX tells me it must be overcome. I steel myself and squeeze the trigger. The wizardry works—the delicate introduction of power gives the front electric motors torque to vector, and the outside wheel speeds up, pulling the nose tighter and setting up a blistering corner exit.
This is the dance of the NSX, and it’s not easy. Sure, going moderately quick in this car requires zero effort. But maximizing that pace could take a lifetime of devotion. You have to work with the NSX, and unlike so many other digitized cars, it’s willing to work with you. That front axle is not just transcendent but communicative, the brake-by-wire system not just potent but linear. The NSX is approachable but constantly nudges you to be better. Get it right and you’ll beat nearly anything in three tight corners, the paper numbers not quite capturing how fast this is on a winding road. Get it wrong and you’ll never be able to explain why you spent the better part of $200,000 on an Acura.
Because with the car parked as the light dies, I struggle to explain it to the photo crew. The NSX is the supercar of the future, the democratization, if you could call it that, of the hybrid-hypercar tech from Ferrari, Porsche, and McLaren that dropped every jaw back in 2014. Trouble is, all of this technology and advancement produced an Acura supercar that’s no quicker than its conventional rivals and somehow thirstier on the highway than a Corvette. That pushrod Bronze Age bruiser will also match it on performance for less than half the price, with more cargo room to boot.
The Type S does not rewrite that part of the tale. I can find brief moments when it feels noticeably sharper or quicker, little indications that I’m in the special one. Yet the whole feels familiar, or at least familiarly brilliant. Like a Corvette, it offers everyday heroism and serene comfort, but the Type S moves with more joy, always revealing more of itself. It flourishes in the subjective, in its flowing fast-forward motions. Looking for an objective, still-life reason to buy this supercar that’s less prestigious, cheaper inside, and slower than some of the more established competition is a fool’s errand. The NSX story isn’t that simple.
Keyword: The Second-Gen Acura NSX Doesn’t Need to Make Sense