First impressions add to the sense of unease that a milestone anniversary brings, and there's something about the GT-R's demeanour, and reputation (it managed a circuit of the Nuerburgring in a shade over 71/2 minutes) that makes it an unsettling prospect to drive.

A potent amalgam of tailored curves and softened edges, the GT-R looks like a Nissan 350Z morphed with a Shelby Mustang - then flattened some more, like a Peking duck. Despite its 1,700kg weight, long track to accommodate four seats and a 300-litre boot, the GT-R cleaves the air with a sleek 0.27 drag coefficient.

Apart from the trademark circular tail lights, there's little to remind you of the GT-R's Skyline lineage from the outside - a point Nissan is rightly keen to underline. Engineered from scratch, the GT-R is a completely different entity from the souped-up boy-racers of the 80s and 90s, and there's nothing familiar about the neck-jolting performance the car unleashes. Behind the wheel, the GT-R feels suitably imposing. It's nailed together like a tank - the doors close with a hearty clunk and there's a solid, no-nonsense feel to the cabin despite the array of time-machine dials, displays, switches and screens relaying the car's acceleration curve and response times to the driver.

Stick it on the highway, ironically, and you won't have much time to check the readouts as the G-forces let loose by the 473bhp twin-turbo mean there's no time to blink from the get-go.

It's an impressive experience for sure - but not as scary as you might expect from the Bugatti Veyron-challenging road monster.

A quick whizz up to Chai Wan from Quarry Bay for a photo shoot seems to take seconds, and keeping the GT-R at road-legal speeds is an art form in itself. There is endless acceleration on tap and even at 110km/h you're left with the impression you're only experiencing a fraction of this car's potential. What's also impressive is that the Nissan has a surprisingly composed ride for a car sitting on brash, 20-inch alloys and a suspension set-up rigid enough to keep the big GT on course during hard cornering.

Two buttons on the dash make the ride more comfortable than anticipated. There are three suspension settings: race, sport and comfort (choose the latter for a pliant ride). And there are three to make the transmission respond as fast as you like: fast, super-fast and a down-shift mode that helps you chop down through the gears double-quick to take corners at speed.

Similarly, gearbox up-shifts are so smooth and instant that you wonder how a nuts-and-bolts machine can seem so fluid. The transmission is the clever heart of the GT-R and the key to managing all that power.

Yet the GT-R isn't just about straight-line prowess. Another blast along the highway out to Kennedy Town quickly makes you realise what all the fuss is about. The GT-R draws admiring glances (not for the middle-aged man behind the wheel) from the drivers of cars it effortlessly overtakes with its impossible pace and PlayStation precision.

But it's no computer game behind the wheel - the GT-R pins you back in your seat with G-forces as the car takes off with a brutish and unmistakably analogue engine note.

For this car's weight, the GT-R's control is also incredible - especially considering that it corners faster and harder than anything you might have driven. It handles like a much lighter machine, thanks in part to its permanent four-wheel drive and huge alloys with ultra-grippy tyres developed specifically for the car. Nissan reportedly tried more than 3,000 wheel, tyre and suspension set-ups before perfecting this chassis configuration, such is the level of precision that has gone into making the GT-R.

All too soon Kennedy Town Praya looms and, after another photo op, it's time to give the keys back to Richburg Motors. It's an emotional moment. I want to keep them. As I hand them over, I feel I'm losing my mojo.

There are fewer sights less pitiful than a grown man weeping over a car - but the GT-R is the one that'll get you.