Getting off the train at Shanondai station deep in the Japanese countryside after boarding at Tokyo is like shooting through a wormhole and suddenly popping up in another part of the universe. It's easy to forget the train is traveling at 200 mph, which makes for some quick changes of scenery. The effect is heightened by the slower pace of Shanondai. It's noticeably more relaxed than Tokyo -- people are walking slower, talking more. After eight days hustling about, it's just the change of pace we need.
The serenity of the place is flung out the window as the DC5 Integra makes its appearance, however. As if on cue, the elderly crowd around us disappointingly shake their heads as the Championship White Type-R slices through the throngs of taxis slowly making their way through the roundabout in front of the station. In an attempt to be as inoffensive as possible, we pile into the car as quickly as we can, and then we're off to neighboring Fujisawa for a visit to Opera Performance.
When we arrive, the first thing I do is take stock of our transportation. It's clear from the noisy and fast ride over, that some very peculiar chassis tuning has taken place.
We have a method of classifying cars here in the U.S., and it usually goes something like this: First, we look the car over, noting whatever body enhancements may be in place. Next, we move on to the interior, making the same observations before we finally make note of the engine bay and the inevitable slew of aftermarket parts that have been applied. As I begin to circle the rear of the DC5, Yamamoto jacks up the front. I'm straining to find just one piece that appears to be out of the ordinary as wheels and tires are being taken off the front and splash guards are bent out of the way. After circling around and getting on my hands and knees, I'm afforded a view behind the plastic, in which a battleship-gray sheet of metal reveals itself.
Takasugi's DC5 is stripped dry and skewered. | 
Welding extra OEM body parts atop the existing pieces, Yamamoto-san doubles the rigidity of the door frame. These areas will later be painted, making them nearly indistinguishable from stock. |  |
Like many of the loadbearing walls in the RSX, the metal in the fenderwell has been doubled in thickness and stitch-welded for even more rigidity.
Yamamoto's goal with the RSX was a lofty one. He set out to make the car as rigid as it would be if it had a rollcage installed. Unlike the S2000, the only parts that have been Swiss-cheesed are new sheets of metal, which are MIG-welded to the chassis. So if you're looking at the caged and gutted S2000 in the previous few pages and thinking your streetcar could never benefit from such a ruthless regimen of chassis reinforcement and borderline bulimic weight loss, think again. While much of the engineering is race-only stuff, the majority of the chassis reinforcement procedures are applicable to a daily-driven machine.
In fact, the process to make a truly rigid streetcar may actually be quite a bit more involved than designing a flyweight racecar. Things need to be more than just effective -- they have to look pretty and not interfere with the regular use of the car at the same time.