We're instructed not to switch stability control completely off, to trail-brake into the turns, and to roll judiciously onto the throttle. Indeed, all those driving-school techniques provoke textbook responses in the Supra sans drama or surprises. The steering is extremely precise and nicely weighted, though it lacks the intimate communication of the Cayman Toyota is gunning for. Stability intervention is pleasantly surreptitious. And the super-strong Brembo brakes survive lap after lap after lap without fade, even as we all learn to press deeper into each of the closely spaced corners. Then during a later afternoon session, when we've probably used up 280 of the tires' 300 tread-life rating, I even manage to string together a couple of very nice, controllable corner-to-corner drifts. I emerge, sweaty but smiling.


Once the red mist subsides and we take to the country lanes surrounding Summit Point, the car's Sunday-drive demeanor proves equally delightful. The 12-speaker 500-watt JBL system cranks out the jams, the ride quality in Sport mode is sufficiently compliant to encourage leaving the car in this 'fun-exhaust' mode, and when zipping through a series of S-bends with your phone on the Qi wireless charger, a cover and sufficient fencing keep it from flying into the passenger footwell.


So is this miracle of automotive husbandry worthy of the Supra name? Heck, yeah. It reinvents the concept in a guise that make sense for today's world, and it's offered at a price ($50,920 to start, $57,375 fully loaded) that's a relative bargain when measured against both its predecessor and its Porsche competitor ($58,150, $70,640 similarly equipped to the Launch Edition model). If it's not precisely what you had in mind, the aftermarket is gearing up to help you fix that.

This Supra's rollout has been shrouded in a cloud of perceived compromise by internet philosophers since it was announced that it would share its platform with BMW's Z4 convertibles. The Supra loyal weren't shy in expressing their indignation about the union, claiming that a Supra without a manual transmission—gasp!—could never be a true Supra and that a co-developed car was destined to be viewed by history as nothing more than badge engineering.

They weren't completely wrong. Viewed with the knowledge that the Supra uses a BMW engine and that its transmission, dampers, and steering rack are shared with the Z4, Tada-san's claim that its fundamentals weren't just thrust upon Toyota is harder to believe. Still, BMW's B58, a turbocharged 3.0-liter inline-six, produces 335 horsepower and 365 lb-ft of torque and is undeniably well suited to the Supra, especially when paired with ZF's eight-speed automatic, the only available transmission. According to Tada-san, the inline-six, which he considers a no-compromise item for any Supra, is the reason Toyota agreed to the BMW partnership. (However, there also is a four-cylinder Supra variant that may make its way to the United States.) An electronically controlled limited-slip differential with the ability to vary lock from zero to 100 percent is part of the program. And, of course, the Supra uses BMW's front strut and rear multilink suspensions. Picking a partner in car building is a lot like picking a partner in life. And Toyota could have done far worse than BMW.

That the Supra lacks the genetic purity its disciples might prefer is clear, but genealogy is far less important than creating a driving tool capable of fully immersing its pilot in the experience. And that's what Toyota has done with the Supra.