An hour into the drive, doubt start to creep in. That little voice trying to undermine my adventure, challenging me, causing me to hesitate. I turn the music to contemplate.
Its a crisp, clear autumn day and the Maple trees form a tunnel of color as I speed down the highway. I was excited about this chance to check out a car before winter sets in. Only two more hours to go.
“No, I don’t need another old car,” I reminded myself. And there is that problem of not having a place to store it. Winter is creeping in, and stored cars are resting like Sleeping Beauties, waiting for their knights in shining sweatshirts to rescue them next Spring.
Truthfully, I figured the car would look a lot worse in person. Unless a car was completely restored or meticulously maintained by a loving long-term owner, vintage cars all need work.
For example, when I bought my ’68 Datsun 2000, the seller claimed it was in “mechanically A-1 condition.” Well, after the car was delivered, I took it for a test drive. The brake pedal went to the floor, the motor gasped and choked, and it wouldn’t restart after I stopped to check it out.
The misfiring was caused by a bad spark plug wire, which is a minor fix. However, it needed a water pump, fuel pump, alternator, brake master cylinder, vinyl top, and none of the lights worked. Then, I discovered the clutch was slipping and had to pull the motor to replace it. Buyer beware.
Two hours later, I exited the freeway and turned off onto a smooth black 2-lane country road surrounded by fall colors. As I neared the meeting point, a big smile crossed my face as the yellow Z rolled up on the opposite side of the road. It stood out like the Oregon Duck’s neon-yellow football jersey on green AstroTurf.
The custom paint job is difficult to describe; bright lemon-yellow paint accented with purple blobs that looked like graffiti splattered on it.
It was almost too much, like seeing a Hot Wheels car enlarged to a life size version. I hoped they were decals that could be removed.
The car was obviously drivable, and the body and paint looked in good condition for a 30+ year old paint job. I did a quick walkaround. The original chrome bumpers were gone, and side view mirrors weren’t original. A fiberglass body kit had been installed and a Porsche whale tail mounted on the rear hatch.
The owner said the car was modified in the 1990’s and trailered to audio car show competitions. The 45K mileage was original but he had no documentation or proof.
Inside, the interior was intact, although it had after market seats and steering wheel. I pulled out my inspection checklist and we went through as many items as possible.
Looking under the hood, I was amazed to see a clean motor and engine bay. Triple Weber carburetors replaced the original two SU carbs, and an aftermarket aluminum radiator was installed.
I couldn’t see any water, transmission, or oil pan leaks. So far, so good. The battery tray, gas filler door, and inner hatchback were rust free. The body panels appeared to be metal and the undercarriage was in very good shape.
The electric windows, lights, and turn signals worked and the 1200-watt stereo could blow you out of the driver’s seat, too.
We took the car out for a drive. The 3-speed transmission was a bit clunky, and the engine seemed to misfire a bit. It has a loud muffler, not sure if that was intentional or needs replacement. The front end and steering wheel vibrated excessively when going over bumps. The brake fluid in one reservoir was low and possibly leaking from the front passenger caliper. Finally, the gas fumes were coming in through the rear hatch door, which needs new weather stripping.
Still, I was starting to dig this car and saw the potential it had. It would be too expensive to repaint and bring back to its original state, but with some front-end work and TLC it could be a good weekend driver car.
I heard that voice again, reminding me how I didn’t need another car. “That paint job is ridicules! An automatic? You already have two other Datsuns that need work. What are you thinking!”
Then I heard Flip Wilson’s devil, “Go ahead! You can have fun with this car! Much safer than the roadsters! A coupe. No worries about getting caught in the rain!”
The devil made do it! The owner agreed to sell it for $12,500 and store the car until Spring, since I had no place to put it. I felt confident about the purchase, knowing there would be issues, but the fundamentals were solid. It’s a 50-year-old car, after all.
Five months have passed. Yellow daffodils are flowering and dandelions cover the landscape. I rented a U-Haul trailer and towed the 260Z to its new home. It once again brought a smile to my face.
Someone once went to a great effort to restore and modify it. It’s grown on me, like a vine on a tree. I call it The Graffiti Z.
Over time, I’ll get this car roadworthy again, remove the 400 pounds of batteries, speakers, and enclosures, and drive it like its 1974!