Julianisms

I recently discovered some old photos of my first love and I couldn’t help but break into a grin when I saw her picture again.

She was my Datsun 240Z Fairlady, and she was the very first car I owned. She was a two-seater sports tourer that became a part of my life for almost four years.

I have to admit, the first thing that caught my attention was that great-looking body.

She had drop-dead gorgeous curves and an impeccable pedigree to her name: the 240Z Fairlady was the first “Made in Japan” sportscar that earned the Japanese respect from the rest of the automotive world. The Fairlady accomplished this by comfortably winning the legendary and gruelling Paris-Dakar Rally in her debut appearance. She went on to repeat this feat for many more times.

The 240Z was a stunning combination of looks, reliability, performance, and - most of all - value. When she first appeared in 1971, the 240Z only cost a mere 3,600 US dollars - that was almost half the price of some of her competitors, and with superior performance and luxury features to boot.

She was the epitome of the Japanese mantra of “make it cheaper and make it better.”

In short, thanks to the 240Z, people no longer laughed at Japanese cars.

—-

One of the reasons why the 240Z was so popular in her day was that she was fun, fun, fun to drive.

My 240Z was a ‘72 model; when she came to me in 1985, she was already 13 years old but was in fantastic condition. She was my first lover, and I her third. She sported a clean, elegant, and classic look that had the power to attract stares everywhere we went. Under the hood, she packed a SOHC, twin-carburetted, 2.4 litre (2,399 cc), inline 6-cylinder engine. Power was delivered to the rear wheels via a 5-speed transmission.

She was shod with 195/65’s in the front, and 205/65’s in the rear on 14-inch alloys. Even then, spinning the tires in low speeds was quite effortless. I often moved off from a standing start in 2nd. In fact, there was so much torque on tap that accelerating from stationary in 3rd gear was not a problem either.

The 240Z may have looked like an elegant lady but she certainly did not sound like one. She gave off a menacing growl with every blip of the accelerator. At only semi-full throttle on an open road, the stereo was all but useless and conversation in the car was all but impossible (sound-proofing in the cabin wasn’t one one of the 240Z’s strong points).

But, hey… who needed to hear the radio or make small talk when one was behind the wheel of a Fairlady? Not me, man… all the music I ever needed was already directly connected to my right foot.

After I had an extractor installed in her, she became even louder. Performance-wise, I was pulling away from traffic lights and hitting 110km/h on short straights in second gear. I had to constantly change my pants in those early days because I constantly kept wetting them after every drive.

What’s unique about the 240Z was that it was one of the most un-Japanese of Japanese cars at the time - she was designed to “attack” the American and European car markets and was therefore built to accomodate Caucasians rather than Asians. Although she looked quite petite on the outside, she was big and roomy on the inside. Her pedals were set deep in - people with short legs could forget about driving this car. Also, you sit very low in the bucket seats, almost over the rear axle. At 5’ 11” and sitting in the driver’s seat, I could hardly see the road in front of me, much less the nose of the car. It took some getting used to, and even parking became a challenge in the first week.

The clutch pressure was much heavier than normal. It’s not quite like doing bench-presses, but you get an idea. First-timers would commonly stall the car (heavy clutch, coupled with not enough revs) and just 15 minutes of being stuck in a traffic jam would cause your left leg to ache like mad. Power steering was also non-existant, of course. 240Z = Not For Pansies :P

These few characteristics: a long and heavy nose, a lack of forward visibility (in the conventional sense), deep pedals, a heavy clutch, and an even heavier steering response at low speeds made the 240Z all but “undrivable” for every lady I knew that tried to get behind her wheel. And for many guys, too.

In time, we became one. I learned how to keep her happy every now and then by letting her loose on wide open roads with lots of sweeping curves, and she responded providing me with copious amounts of torque and power on demand every time I needed to go some place.

Eventually, we had to go our separate ways. She was a high-maintenance type of gal, and I was still wet behind the ears in thinking that she’d always be mine forever. With her petrol bills, high road tax, and other associated costs, I finally had to let her go.

She was never meant to be an only car and be driven around every day like other “normal” cars; she was royalty of a kind and she was getting on in age at a not-quite-so-sweet 17 years by the time we parted. She really needed someone who could afford to really care for her properly in a manner deserving of her stature.

In hindsight, she was a loud and noisy partner, often tempermental and difficult to handle, and she helped to burn a hole in my pocket. But she were also gorgeous and elegant and sexy, and often made me feel proud and bashful all at once to be seen in public with her. She gave me the ride of my life. But she also set the bar too high for the others that came after her.

Sayonara, my Fairlady. I will always believe it was better to have loved and lost you, than to never to have loved you at all.


P/S
Your great-granddaughter, the 350Z, is one mean-looking vamp. I think I’m in love again.


Gimme a closer look!