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On paper, these two cars are nearly identical. Both are designed and built in Japan. Both produce about 300 hp from small turbocharged engines. They both weigh about 3200 pounds and can take a family of four from the house to the race track in comfort. They both cost about $45,000. But they couldn’t be more different to drive. One is playful and a bit rough around the edges; the other is one of the best hot hatches ever to grace a racetrack, simply one of the best performance cars you can buy today for any price.
The GR Corolla Circuit and Civic Type R were always going to be compared directly. They are the hot hatches of the moment, the two newest, most fun kids on the block.
With 300 hp from a 1.6-liter inline-three routed through all four wheels by an advanced all-wheel-drive system and a six-speed manual, the GR Corolla is the raucous rally-bred hatch we needed after Subaru axed the WRX STI.
The new Civic Type R takes every beloved, wonderful thing about the last Type R and makes it better, and then it takes the bad things about the old CTR and remedies those too. It now sends 315 hp to the front wheels—a 9-hp increase from the last-gen car—linked to one of the sweetest six-speed manuals of all time. Both make the frustrating but comfortable Golf R irrelevant, and even make you wonder why anyone would spring for a BMW M3 or Mercedes C63.
While both of these cars belong on the road first, they are also capable track cars. And not just a few parade laps; both of these cars should withstand hours of abuse on track days. That’s why we came here, to Arizona Motorsports Park, to see just how they’d work on a club track, the sort of place where you’ll find the GRC and CTR on weekends hassling Corvettes and Porsches. There aren’t Porsches to hassle today, though there is the constant spectacle of F-35s and F-16s taking off from Luke Air Force Base next to the track.
My first laps are in the GR Corolla, here in Circuit Edition guise. Unlike the Morizo Edition that we had for our last Performance Car of the Year test, the Circuit has back seats, less torque, and taller gearing. It also has Michelin Pilot Sport 4 tires on 18-inch wheels instead of the Morizo’s Pilot Sport Cup 2 rubber. It does still have the carbon roof and the limited slip diffs front and rear, though.
The GRC shows character from the instant it sets off, the 1.6-liter three is obviously turbocharged and it powerband feels meaty and substantial, chocked full of grunt across the tach’s midrange. It’s not the most refined engine in the world. It vibrates and pops and feels like the rally-derived homologation powertrain it is. With every other manufacturer going for a 2.0-liter turbo four, it’s refreshing to have something different that does the job with panache.
That engine mates to an okay six-speed manual, one with a slightly too-heavy shift action even if it can feel direct. I need to be pointed with each shift; this isn’t a gearbox that likes to just slide into gear, instead requiring slower, more deliberate efforts to select the correct gear. Rushing a shift can cause the gearbox synchros to crunch in protest.
My first few laps are spent with the adjustable torque split set at 60:40, and the car just isn’t fun. On power mid-corner, it’ll push. It’s not playful. It feels like a Corolla, and not one of the good ones. Pop the powertrain into its track mode setting and switch the center differential’s torque split to 50:50, and the GR feels suddenly wonderful.
The GR is short and wide, which makes it lively. The brakes are strong, but the short wheelbase means it can be nervous in the braking zone. As I’m pushing deeper and getting more into the brakes on AMP’s plethora of 180-degree corners, I occasionally need to correct on entry, a small dab of opposite lock to keep it in line. Swapping the torque split also transforms the car as it’s putting power down. Get back to power early and it stays neutral, but can be adjusted with a lift off the throttle. It’s not like it’ll drift in that mode, but if I need to tuck the nose in a little more, that slight lift does magic.
There’s one more mode, though, one that promises a lot of fun. That’s the 30:70 torque split. My expectation is that it’ll transform it into an oversteering loon, with big smoky drifts making me look like a hero for the camera. In reality, it feels like any other semi-fake drift mode in hot hatches of this ilk. There is surely more rotation once back to power in a corner, but it’s not of the wild opposite lock counter steering variety. Instead, it makes the rear end feel like it’s on casters, which will ultimately slow down a lap time. That gave me less confidence in the car, since the predictable nature and speed of 50:50 was gone. I’d stick with fifty-fifty in all situations.
So what’s wrong with the GRC? The steering could have more feel, though it’s definitely accurate. The shift action leaves a lot to be desired, as does pedal placement. The engine matches revs for you on downshifts, which is fine, but I’d much prefer to do it all myself. You sit too high and the seats aren’t bolstered enough. The interior itself isn’t that great, far more economy car than something that shouts performance. It could use a little more power down low, but I really can’t fault the character and charm of this engine. If you take your GR Corolla to a track day, you won’t be disappointed. It’s a hilarious rip-snorting machine of the highest order.
Thing is, though, the Civic Type R is so good it’ll make you forget the GR even exists. Now, full disclosure, I liked the Civic so much when I drove it at our last PCOTY test that I bought one. I have some bias here, but Senior Editor Kyle Kinard and Reviews Editor Mack Hogan also drove the Civic on track at AMP and agreed: this car is in a different league.
I guess I’ll get the complaints out of the way. The engine sounds like nothing. Seriously, it’s silent both inside and out. Honda does pipe some annoying, fake noise through the speakers. I’d much rather have some actual induction or exhaust noise. Or, better yet, since this is the final non-electrified Type R, it deserves some sort of rowdy NA engine that revs to 10,000. I can dream. It’s also a big car, closer to Accord sized than what I think of as a Civic. It’s seven inches longer than the Toyota. That’s huge. I’d like it to be 5 percent smaller in all ways. Otherwise, though, this is a hell of an achievement.
This is a front-wheel-drive GT3, just without the price tag or pretension. There are cars that you can just sit in and fall in love, and the CTR is that. Every single input, even stationary, is perfect.
Unlike the GR, you sit low, enveloped in the red buckets that are both wonderfully supportive and perfectly comfortable. The instruments are digital and their best setting puts the tach on top with the gear number in the center. There are shift lights and an alarm that sounds at redline. The steering wheel is the perfect thickness and the shifter, oh the shifter. It’s an aluminum shift knob, small and delicate, and the shift action is right up there with the ND Mazda Miata and the 911 GT3. Perfectly direct, one-finger operation that just slides crisply between gears. It’s a dream.
All of that instills confidence to immediately start pushing. One good thing about that added length over the GRC is that the instability that came under braking is ameliorated. Its wheelbase is four inches longer, which contributes to high-speed and braking stability. In +R mode, it is hugely stiff, so the instability comes more on undulating pavement, where it will buck and move around. For whatever reason, though, it’s not disconcerting. I’m constantly imagining that I’m in a British Touring Car Race, bouncing over curbs and putting the thing on two wheels at Brands Hatch.
The optional Pilot Sport Cup 2 tires help it feel even more race car-like, but I’ve driven a CTR on track with the stock Pilot Sport 4S tires, and it would still destroy the Corolla. The Honda encourages me to push in a way that the GRC just didn’t. And while that may sound more serious and less fun, it’s the opposite. When everything you interact with is just that much better–feelsome, direct steering, that monster motor, brakes with an amazing initial bite, a hooked-up front end that responds like a Ferrari, and that gearbox from the heavens–it’s fun at the limit or really anywhere under it.
If the Corolla can be playful, then the Civic is a puppy with a new ball. Boundless energy that won’t quit no matter what you do. Turn off all the aids and go to town. It’ll be neutral when you want it to be, but then it’s as wild a hooligan when you just thrash the hell out of it. There is true lift-off oversteer, with a big lift when the rear is loaded up actually bringing the tail around. It’s not drifting, but it’s more true to the front-drive performance car ethos. This isn’t just the heir to the sport compact throne, I could see it running quicker than all sorts of metal on track without breaking a sweat, then ferrying you home in relative comfort.
At near as makes no difference to $45,000, the Type R is nearly $8000 more than the last generation. The improvement, though, is absolutely worth it. There are no overheating issues with this CTR and it doesn’t need to be wrung to within an inch of its life to feel like it has a soul. It still loves to jump over curbs and generally be driven like you hate it, but also takes kindly to smooth inputs and a delicate touch. If this really is the end of the gas-powered Type R, it’s a hell of a thing.
There isn’t really a loser here. My quibble with the Corolla is its brother: the smaller, lighter GR Yaris. I can’t help but think more about the unique proposition the GR Yaris is: a three-door B-segment small hatch with all-wheel drive and 268 hp. It’s something we’ve never seen in the U.S. And we never will. A shame.
That we got a hot hatch out of Toyota at all is worth celebrating. And the GR Corolla is a great one. Thing is, the Civic Type R is such a thoroughly engineered, designed, and crafted machine, there was never really going to be a fight. The GR Corolla might be an amazing hot hatch, but the Civic Type R is front-drive performance royalty. Long live the king.
Travis is an editor at Road & Track. He was previously the Editor-in-Chief of Jalopnik.com and is a little too fond of the Mazda Miata.
