Forget the bullet train – the best way to see Japan is by classic car
Roula Khalaf, Editor of the FT, selects her favourite stories in this weekly newsletter.
Trains in Japan are so good that few people consider driving through the country. The Shinkansen delivers you from Tokyo to Kyoto in extreme comfort, while you can enjoy a civilised bento box lunch, and – if you’re feeling celebratory – add a small bottle of sake; the cap ingeniously turns into a cup.
But The Peninsula’s Japan Driving Experience has set out to change that. The hotel group’s first rally in the country in 2017 combined motorsport’s global appeal with the specificity and locality of country roads and local culture. They reprised the event last April, with a four-day itinerary that started at The Peninsula Tokyo and passed through resort towns and mountain passes, taking in ancient temples and even a ferry trip. The final stop was the exclusive Magarigawa Club, with its own racing track surrounded by spectacular views. The event saw committed drivers ship their own cars over from their home countries – vintage, new, British, Italian: the common denominator was speed.
The Peninsula has a history of automotive appreciation; the Hong Kong hotel has long had a fleet of Rolls-Royce Phantoms in exquisite green (and let’s agree that we need more green cars). For the rally, Peninsula’s chairman, Sir Michael Kadoorie, drove his 1961 Aston Martin DB4GT, setting an elegantly high bar. With discretion the better part of valour, he brought along his ace mechanic too.
As a longtime lover of Japan, I was excited to join the trip. Unlike the other rallyists, however, I’m not the owner of a fleet of coveted cars or even a pair of Tod’s driving loafers. I don’t keep a vintage mechanic on retainer, though I am familiar with a number of garagistes who work on my Volvo wagon (not exactly a fixture in the fast lane). For years I drove Saabs, an even more idiosyncratic car, and when the last one was gasping its final breath I traded it to a friend for a fishing rod. Meanwhile, my dad owns a beloved 1949 Chevrolet truck. When it approaches 40mph it starts to shake aggressively, like an old man with a wheezing cough.
But I was ready to step up in class, and Peninsula delivered: for the rally I was loaned a 2025 Aston Martin DBX707 in, ahem, Malachite Green. This was, by an order of magnitude, the most impressive vehicle I’ve ever driven. I quickly made myself at home in the bucket seat and got used to an accelerator that meant business. In no time, fuel-efficient Japanese vans, perfect little rectangles like children’s toys, receded speedily away in my rear-view mirror as the engine roared like a ravenous lion.
The Peninsula advance team had taken care of the details. They mapped the most scenic route, complete with ideal vantage points, good places for ice-cream (it was cow country) and lunch in a rustic farmhouse at a sake brewery. Our job was basically not to get lost, which still happened a few times, and not damage the car, which miraculously happened not at all. And I really had to focus, since as a Yank I’m not used to driving on the left side of the road.
Driving back roads in Japan is its own pleasure, although this was no real surprise – getting off the highway is a great way to see any country. We passed rice fields, manicured trees and well-maintained buildings along the streets of quiet towns. Cherry blossoms were still in bloom in some areas, another seasonal delight.
James Harvey-Kelly, who took the photographs for this story, has his own approach to driving: with enough willpower, any car can be a fast car. When he wasn’t navigating or working the camera, he put that theory to the test. Rally purists may prefer the analogue tradition of following the directions by log book. We opted for an app that had a digital map and also allowed us to track the progress of other rally cars and see their speeds, which proved to be a good solution all around.
Despite all of us being in separate cars, rally life turned out to be pleasantly communal. In smaller towns local residents turned out to wave at our procession as we snaked down the high street, like royal visitors. We watched from across the valley as one of our group, a red Alfaholics Alfa Romeo GTA-R 003 refitted with a racing engine, sped down a hill dramatically through the mist.
Every morning there was speculation about the fog, the clouds, and whether Mount Fuji – a presence in Japan even when it’s not visible – would make an appearance that day, like a reclusive celebrity arriving at a party.
One morning our cars were blessed by a priest at the Suwa Taisha shrine, which is more than 1,000 years old. The stones in the courtyard were overgrown with gentle green spring moss; the priest emerged in an elegant ensemble and stood beneath an ancient carved wooden transom to bid us good health and good fortune. Then we returned to our cars – parked smartly in a row, resembling the lineup at a Concours d’Elegance. If there was a dissonance in that moment between the sacred and the material, nobody commented on it.
We may now have been protected by a higher power, but some owners took matters into their own hands and carefully covered their automotive beauties each night. One car had a temperamental fuel tank. And when a tow truck eventually had to be called, well, that was the price to pay for loving a 1953 Mercedes. Its owner was admirably stoic about it (lightened by the fact that he participates in countless rallies every year).
Japan proved a great motoring destination for many reasons, not least of which is polite drivers who get out of the way when you’re hauling on a straight. As our convoy climbed Mt Taikan we passed different groups of motorcyclists, partisans of every era of Japanese bikes, one group on futuristic Suzukis, another on classic Hondas. When we reached the observation deck, drivers of all stripes enjoyed the view below.
This is a country whose residents pay careful attention to detail. It won’t surprise you that a Japanese gas station attendant, standing on a little crate to get more reach, takes cleaning a windshield very seriously. There was the added pleasure of visiting famous convenience stores for curious sweets and other cult foods (James is obsessed with Hi-Chew, a fruit candy), which we enjoyed when we hit traffic.
And there was quintessential Japanese beauty all along the way. In the resort town of Karuizawa we stayed at the lovely Fufu Kyu-Karuizawa, a modern ryokan-style hotel with an onsen in the room, fires in the courtyard and exquisite food, from enoki mushrooms to a small, sinful piece of wagyu beef and tremendous Japanese curry.
The route also passed through Saiko Iyashi-no-Sato Nenba, one of the most beautiful villages in Japan: it was rebuilt after the original was destroyed by a typhoon. Thatched roof timbered buildings in traditional materials line the gentle slopes with streams running beneath footbridges. And there, above the cherry blossoms, coming in and out of view between the clouds, was snow-covered Fuji. All you could do was smile. Though modern travel being what it is, many people took videos of themselves.
Throughout, we had the benefit of the Peninsula’s careful planning. Every arrival in the evening was met with a small celebration: a glass of Deutz champagne, a sushi chef cutting yellowtail tuna, women in kimono playing the traditional shamisen. Most remarkable was an after-dinner performance by a Kabuki actor. All of it brought a level of culture and sophistication that elevated the entire experience – which, after all, is why we travel.
Japanese people are famously polite. But I was still surprised to be welcomed by every tollbooth attendant with a bow and then another when leaving, a new level of graciousness. In the absence of attendants, the automated ticket dispenser occasionally caused issues. Not wanting to dent the Aston Martin I left too much room between car and ticket slot, and had to lean so far out the window I nearly fell out of it. This is not something that happens to 007.
When we pulled into the Kurihama Port the cars entered the hold of a large ferry. We were welcomed on a rear deck by refined sounds of the string players from the Tokyo Sinfonia. We ate lunch out of a bento box as, for a brief time, the pleasure of boat travel replaced that of driving. We crossed Tokyo Bay and saw Haneda airport through haze in the distance, and a light mood descended on the group.
An hour later we pulled into the final stop of our trip, the sleek Magarigawa Club, a modern, glass complex surrounded by a race track. Away from traffic and law enforcement, this was where we could see how these cars were really meant to move. One Porsche took a turn at a speed I would describe as criminal. It did feel like we’d accomplished something, though in my case it was more that I hadn’t crashed the car.
Throughout, we had experienced speed, but also the slower pace. In a way, I felt closer to Japan travelling back roads than I do visiting famous cities. On the final night we dressed up for a gala dinner with speeches, vintage champagne and promises to stay in touch. Then the cars were packed up and shipped back to their homes. Like the best adventures, the rally was novel, intense, visceral – and over too quickly, with memories that lingered like a very vivid dream.
David Coggins and James Harvey-Kelly travelled as guests of The Peninsula Hotels and The Peninsula Tokyo, from $1,190. The next Peninsula Japan Driving Experience is not yet scheduled
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