Wind and tyre roar that build as you go faster - a rush outside the car, a low rumble from the cockpit
The world streaks past when you push on, while the car stays sharp in the middle of the screen
Loud pipes crackle on a trailing throttle - stock stays quiet, the loudest ones spit the most
The flame shows what you heard: a short lick for a crackle, a long one for a bang
All seven engines had their pops and bangs baked again - they snap now instead of thumping
Every engine cracks in its own voice, from a deep bark to a sharp snap
The flame sits on the tailpipe and lights up the back of the car instead of the whole street
The ghost is a clean white outline of your car now, so you can read the corner through it
It steps out of the way when it is right under your nose and comes back as it pulls away
The backfires baked for each engine never played - every car used the same canned pop. Each engine sounds like itself now
The Tsukiyo Hachi fired its flames and smoke from the middle of the car instead of the exhaust
The ghost stuttered on fast machines - it moves smoothly now
Its wheels spun backwards at speed