Before Criticizing Electronic Control

In this post, Rikutsu-Kone-Tato is going to act like he knows a lot about the electronic throttle control in the GR Yaris RZHP, but before diving into that, I’d like to share an experience from over 40 years ago with a 400cc bike.

Additionally, please note that this article assumes street-legal vehicles. I won’t be discussing competition vehicles at all.

Back when Rikutsu-Kone-Tato was excitedly riding his 400cc motorcycle with a mid-sized motorcycle license, I heard that a third party had developed a tuning mechanism to improve throttle response, and it had been released.

Apparently, when this mechanism was installed, the throttle response at low speeds became significantly better.

After doing some research, I found that it was a very simple mechanism. It involved inserting a cam structure between the throttle grip and the carburetor cable, so that even a small twist of the throttle would open the butterfly valve more, revving the engine.

At the time, this mechanism seemed like nothing more than a cheap trick, deviating from the engine’s true nature, so I wasn’t interested in using it on my own bike.

Looking back now, maybe it was a valid solution. If you dismiss the idea of changing the movement distance through the cam’s eccentricity, then how would you manage valve timing in an engine?

In those days, I even considered turbochargers and other forced induction systems to be a deviation from the proper way to enhance an engine’s performance. That kind of narrow-minded thinking is a bit embarrassing now. But maybe that’s the kind of foolishness that comes with youth, which is only excusable because of its potential.

Back then, my idea of tuning was to enhance the inherent performance of the engine and suspension beyond the factory settings through the creativity of the owner or mechanic. In other words, I saw it as a way to fine-tune and improve the vehicle’s performance.

Factory-produced cars and motorcycles had many rough areas in their castings and welds, so I believed that things like polishing ports and connecting rods (is that still done today?), changing carburetor jets, improving exhaust efficiency, and frequent oil changes to keep the piston-cylinder friction low could restore a new vehicle to its full potential, like tuning an out-of-tune instrument.

The premise behind this, at least for me, was that manufacturers prioritized cost-efficiency over the vehicle’s full potential. Or perhaps, they were deliberately de-tuning the vehicles due to self-regulations or governmental pressure (like during the height of the “no three” movement). In short, I was a bit skeptical of manufacturers.

In fact, I still have that skepticism today, though I’ve come to accept it. I’ll explain why later.

Starting from that skepticism, my younger self believed that if I could put in the extra effort that manufacturers avoided, I could unlock the vehicle’s true performance. Looking back, it seems I was chasing a mirage.

While I knew I could never match the performance of an engine or vehicle designed for competition, I thought that by removing the “shackles” imposed by manufacturers and regulations, I could get just a bit closer to my ideal machine.

Now, some 40 years later, after observing the car and motorcycle lives of those around me (including my own), I’ve come to feel that perhaps the best way to make a car or motorcycle last is to leave it as stock and stick with genuine parts.

It seems that when you mimic racing cars or rally cars and install similar parts or make modifications, the lifespan of the vehicle shortens.

But maybe that’s only natural. Major races and rallies involve intense driving as a sport, with more resources, manpower, and support than the average user can afford. And let’s not forget the sponsors.

In such competitions, it’s more important to produce good results than to make the car last. If you can make the headlines, sponsors are happy.

In competitions, it’s about pushing the car to the limit, just shy of breaking down, because it’s okay if it breaks after the race. You’ve got the manpower and sponsors to fix it. And the competition ends eventually. The car only needs to function until that moment.

In contrast, a road car must perform reliably over thousands, even hundreds of thousands of kilometers, in all kinds of conditions—whether in blazing sun, torrential rain, or freezing cold. All that with only regular maintenance like oil changes and tire replacements.

As car enthusiasts, we might inadvertently shorten the life of our cars by trying too hard to make them resemble our dream racing cars or rally machines.

When I reflect on this tendency alongside my long-held skepticism toward manufacturers, I’ve come to believe that keeping a car just short of its full potential might be an important quality for a road car.

Over time, EFI (Electronic Fuel Injection) has become the norm in both cars and motorcycles, largely replacing carburetors. The focus on efficiency, emissions, and control freedom has made carburetors a thing of the past.

I remember a senior colleague, about a decade older than me, saying, “I don’t want to touch an injection car,” expressing his hatred for EFI. Now that seems so long ago.

On the other hand, I recently heard a younger friend of mine say, “Once you ride a well-tuned carb bike, you can’t go back to EFI cars.” (Though I think he was just trying to sound cool—adorable, really.)

It’s fascinating to see the many ideals that car and motorcycle enthusiasts hold in their hearts.

Rikutsu-Kone-Tato loves convenient, reliable industrial products, so I’m fundamentally in favor of EFI. I have no desire to ride a motorcycle that only has a kick-start. I prefer bikes with electric start and EFI because they let me focus more on the ride.

As I mentioned earlier, some people still prefer carburetors, but I think that’s because they’re looking for something different from what I seek in cars and motorcycles.

People who love carbs or kick-start bikes often enjoy not just riding but also tinkering with their machines, or perhaps it’s more about fashion.

They might be like old-school accountants who still long for the days of using an abacus or a calculator instead of spreadsheet software.

Before moving on to the GR Yaris’s electronic throttle control, let me share one more unrelated story.

Currently, I use a Nissan Note e-Power 4WD as my daily driver, and the driving experience is fantastic.

In particular, the moment when it moves from a standstill is especially smooth.

With an internal combustion engine (ICE), even at a stop, the engine is running, so you need something like a clutch or torque converter to connect or disconnect the engine from the wheels.

That’s why, in situations where you’re making slow starts and stops, ICE vehicles can feel a bit jerky due to the engagement and disengagement of the clutch or torque converter.

But with the Note 4WD, the drive motor is stopped when the wheels are stopped, so there’s no jerkiness from clutch or torque converter engagement, resulting in a very smooth driving experience.

The Note 4WD also allows you to choose between three driving modes: sport, eco, and normal.

The difference in acceleration timing between sport mode and eco mode is quite noticeable. In sport mode, acceleration kicks in about half a beat earlier than in eco mode. If you’ve only driven in eco mode, you might be surprised by the sharp acceleration in sport mode.

Of course, this difference is all thanks to electronic control.

If electronic control technology advances further and incorporates something like a Bayesian learning function, the car might be able to sense when the driver is about to accelerate and increase motor speed even before the accelerator is pressed.

It could even learn the driver’s reaction speed or driving skills.

Now, let’s finally get to the GR Yaris’s electronic throttle control.

If this predictive control were implemented in the GR Yaris, it might be able to read the driver’s intention, maybe from facial expressions or eye movements, and accelerate even before the driver presses the pedal.

But could I really get excited about the GR Yaris if it were filled with these “tricks” (though these are advanced measurement and control technologies, I’m deliberately calling them “tricks” here)?

At this point, the answer is probably no. Rikutsu-Kone-Tato wants to enjoy his own driving skills. I’d feel deceived by these tricks designed to make me think it’s my skill.

But strangely enough, I can enjoy the tricks in the Note.

Why?

It’s probably because I already know that the Note 4WD is all about electronic control, down to its very core. It’s no longer just “tricks”—it’s the essence of the car.

So why can’t I be happy with those controls in the GR Yaris? It’s probably because I don’t want those tricks to interfere with the relationship between me and the engine.

That’s when I realized something: what I truly seek is the direct interaction with the engine, an imperfect machine, and the satisfaction of compensating for that imperfection with my own skills.

That’s why I continue to dream about the GR Yaris, a purely engine-driven car.

For those who are even more passionate about compensating for the imperfections of engine-driven cars with their creativity and skill, any electronic control that intervenes and overrides the driver’s intent might be unforgivable. I can understand that feeling.

The Note 4WD, being driven by motors, is entirely controlled by electronics, not just the throttle. The whole car is a bundle of electronic controls. Even when I suddenly let off the accelerator, the front doesn’t feel weighted down, yet it still handles corners well.

In modern internal combustion engines (ICEs), electronic controls are used to optimize performance, including fuel efficiency and traction.

Whether it’s powered by an engine or a motor, electronic control has become essential to every part of a vehicle.

At this point, it’s.