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| Z Trip: The Original Datsun Z-Car |
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| Written by Aaron Severson |
| Saturday, 11 July 2009 00:00 |
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In 1965, the words "Japanese sports car" would have elicited unsympathetic laughter from most America consumers. Five years later, many of those same scoffers were lining up to buy a racy little GT car wearing a Datsun badge. The Datsun Z soon became one of the most popular two-seat sports cars of all time, inspiring many generations of sporty Japanese coupes. THE EXILE ASCENDANTWhen Nissan sent executive Yutaka Katayama to America in March 1960, he was something of a corporate exile. Less than two years earlier, he had persuaded his superiors to led him enter the company's diminutive Datsun 210 in Australia's grueling, 10,000-mile (16,100-km) Mobilgas Rally, seeking to boost Datsun's international reputation. To everyone's surprise, he led his tiny team to a class victory, and considerable publicity. The adulation accorded Katayama, however, did not sit well with his superiors, who considered Katayama a troublesome malcontent. Among other things, he had a fondness for sports cars, which, paradoxically, was considered an unseemly pastime for a Nissan executive. After his victory, firing him would have been embarrassing, but rewarding him was too unpalatable to contemplate. Katayama was sent to America on a vaguely defined market-research assignment, with the implicit hope that he fade from view.
Instead, Katayama took to America like a fish to water. He almost single-handedly built Nissan's U.S. dealer network, and in the fall of 1960, became West Coast VP of the fledgling Nissan Motors Corporation USA (NMC USA).  The first DAT automobile -- an acronym derived from the names of the financial backers of the car's creator -- appeared in 1914. The first Dat-son debuted in 1930, and was renamed Datsun in 1932, shortly before DAT Automobile Manufacturing Company was purchased by Nihon Sangyo -- later known as Nissan. Nissan phased out the Datsun nameplate in the U.S. in the early 1980s. By 1965, Katayama had begun to put Datsun on the map in the American market. As a reward, he was named president of NMC USA. He was still in a tenuous position with his superiors in Japan -- he was successful enough to keep them from sacking him, but not so wildly successful as to make them replace him with a more tractable and compliant executive. He had also acquired a powerful ally in Keiichi Matsumura, who had recently joined Nissan from Japan's powerful MITI (Ministry of International Trade and Industry). With Matsumura on his side, Katayama had finally gotten the home office to listen to him, however grudgingly. By 1967, Datsun was fourth among U.S. imports. Moreover, after years of begging the home office for products more suited to the American market, Katayama had finally gotten Nissan to build the highly competitive Datsun 510, a sporty little sedan modeled on the BMW 1600. Thanks to the 510, by 1969, Datsun was selling nearly 60,000 cars a year in America. Katayama was extremely enthusiastic about the 510, but he had a greater dream that was still unfulfilled. Katayama had, after all, been the first chairman of the Sports Car Club of Japan. He wanted a real Datsun sports car. MY FAIR LADYNissan had actually built a modest number of sporty cars before. The company fielded its first postwar roadster in 1952, although it sold in tiny numbers, and was not exported. In 1959, Nissan introduced a new roadster based on the Bluebird sedan, the Datsun SP211 Sports Roadster. In its home market, it was called Fairlady, a name selected by Nissan president Katsuji Kawamata, who had been entranced by a performance of the musical My Fair Lady on a visit to the U.S. in 1958. Katayama, fearing that effete-sounding names like Bluebird and Fairlady would be ridiculed in America, insisted on more prosaic alphanumeric designations for the U.S. market. The Fairlady evolved in parallel with the Bluebird on which it was based, becoming the SP310 in 1963 (Datsun Sports Roadster 1500 in America), and the 1.6 L (97 cu. in.) SP311 in 1965. (Export models were known as SPL, indicating left-hand drive.) The final iteration was the 1968 Datsun 2000 Sports Roadster, with a new 2.0 L (121 cu. in.) engine inherited from the Prince Motor Company, which Nissan acquired in 1966.
The Fairlady was a loose imitation of the British sports cars of its era, particularly the MGB and Triumph TR4. Contemporary reviewers criticized its haphazard styling and badly sorted suspension, but were pleased by its sturdy construction and build quality, which put its British counterparts to shame. By the late sixties, it benefited further from strong brakes (with discs in front) and one of the most powerful engines in its class. In the right hands, it became a viable sports racer, campaigned with some success.  The final Fairlady roadster, known in the U.S. as simply "Datsun 2000," had a 2.0 L (121 cu. in.) U20 engine, rated at 135 hp (101 kW) and mated to a five-speed manual. Its riding and handling left much to be desired, but it was capable of 0-60 mph in 9.3 seconds, with a top speed of 111 mph (179 kph) -- good performance for a sports car of this era. Production of these cars ended in 1970. Still, the Fairlady was not enough to satisfy Katayama. It had promise, but it still felt like a half effort, and it was not well suited to American tastes. THE COUNTNissan's first glimmer of serious effort on the sports car front was the A550X project, a proposed 2.0-liter GT intended as a joint venture with Yamaha. To design it, Nissan hired freelance stylist Albrecht Goertz, an Austrian nobleman who had previously designed BMW's lovely but commercially unsuccessful 507 sports car. The A550X project soon collapsed, but Goertz subsequently designed the original Silvia, a sporty coupe based on the contemporary 311 Bluebird. Despite promising results at the 1965 Tokyo Motor Show, the Silvia met a cool reception at the New York show, drawing harsh words from influential American Datsun dealers. A few hundred were made for the home market, but it was not widely exported.
Goertz's consultancy ended in 1965. Since the Silvia was a flop and the A550X stillborn, his greatest lasting accomplishment was revamping Nissan's approach to styling, introducing techniques like the use of full-size clay models. In later years, Goertz frequently intimated that he designed the original Z-car during his consultancy. When Nissan denied that Goertz had anything to do with the Z, he threatened to sue the company for libel (although, contrary to many accounts, he never actually did). Finally, in November 1980, Nissan's head of legal affairs sent Goertz a letter acknowledging that that the designers of the Z were influenced by Goertz's designs, but nothing more. That was the end of the legal battle, but the idea that Goertz designed the Z persists, even after Goertz's death in 2006. (Yamaha, incidentally, eventually took its two-liter sports car concept to Toyota, where it became the Toyota 2000GT; that car was not styled by Goertz, either.) THE HOME TEAMIn October 1965, Teiichi Hara, head of Nissan's Engineering Design and Development department, assigned a young designer named Yoshisuke Matsuo as the head of the Sports Car Design Studio, with Akio Yoshida as his assistant. Matsuo was excited about his new assignment, but he quickly discovered that his new job was, like Katayama's American assignment, a form of exile. Like Katayama, Matsuo was an enthusiast, something that his superiors viewed with faint exasperation, and his little studio was mostly a way of shutting him up.
Nissan management was still very skeptical about the commercial viability of sports cars, which they saw as "decoration," with little profit potential. The failure of the Silvia coupe undoubtedly didn't help, but the response of the U.S. dealers did suggest that there might be some interest in America, if Nissan could come up with something more suitable. Matsuo and Yoshida were allowed to continue working on sports car designs, although with little serious support.  The Z used Nissan's L-series six, originally designed by the Prince Motor Company, was very similar to the Mercedes-Benz M180 six, which Prince had originally built under license. The L-series was offered in both four- and six-cylinder form. The 280-Z's engine was bored and stroked to 2,753 cc (168 cu. in.), with 149 net horsepower (111 kW), probably a little more than the 151 gross horsepower advertised for the original 240-Z. Unfortunately, it was pulling a much heavier car, so performance was little improved. The owner of this car has substituted the flat-topped pistons from the eighties version of this engine for the original dished pistons, giving a slight improvement in power and efficiency. MEETING OF THE MINDSMatsuo and Yoshida might have labored indefinitely had it not been for Katayama. After becoming president of NMC USA, Katayama had written to the home office to request the development of a sporty car tailored for American tastes.
On a trip back to Tokyo in 1967, Katayama paid a visit to the Sports Car Design Studio to see Matsuo's work, which was then at the clay model stage. The two men quickly realized they shared a common goal. Not only was the proposed sports car the sort of thing they both loved. Katayama also saw it as a matter of corporate -- and indeed national -- pride. Katayama said that Nissan would never be able to grow in the export markets unless it moved beyond economy cars. A year or two earlier, Katayama's support wouldn't have been worth much, but with his new position and the backing of Matsumura, the sports car idea, now called Maru-Zetto (Circle) Z, began to gain momentum. Matsuo and Katayama also found an ally in engineer Hisashi Uemura, head of Nissan's Section Three production division. The Section One and Two divisions, responsible for regular cars and trucks, were reluctant to spare personnel for what they saw as a marginal project, but Uemura, whose section normally focused on specialty vehicles like police cars and garbage trucks, agreed to help turn Project Z into a production car.  Optional alloy wheels are a considerable improvement on the Z's standard wheel covers, which were frequently quite ghastly. A weak point of the Z was its brakes, which were only adequate for the 240-Z, and never really improved for the heavier 260-Z and 280-Z. The owner of this car has substituted the heavier front brakes of a Toyota 4X4 truck, with slotted rotors for better cooling. TAKING SHAPEOther than the ill-fated Silvia, most of Datsun's sporty-car projects had been roadsters, following the English tradition. Katayama, however, felt the market was shifting away from open cars (indeed, convertible sales in the U.S. dropped precipitously in the late sixties). He insisted that Project Z should be a closed, two-seat GT, like the Jaguar E-Type, a car he particularly loved. He also wanted a six-cylinder engine, rather than a four.
The design of Project Z went through many iterations. The earliest sketches look a great deal like the later Opel GT, while an abandoned variation developed by Yoshida resembled a Maserati Ghibli. The eventual production design bore a striking resemblance to the contemporary Ferrari 275 GTB/4 (styled by Pininfarina, which, interestingly, had also been commissioned to do the Datsun 410 Bluebird). Since the Ferrari cost more than four times as much as the Z eventually did, however, this was not necessarily a bad thing. The Z's monocoque structure was basically new, but to keep costs at a manageable level, many components were sourced from other Datsuns, including its suspension (MacPherson struts all around), brakes (discs in front, drums in back), and engine. The Z's 2.4 L (146 cu. in.) SOHC inline-six was essentially the 510's 1.6 L (97 cu. in.) four, with two extra cylinders. Nissan management approved the Z for production in November 1967, and Uemura set about the complicated task of turning the completed design into a producible car. He clashed with Matsuo early on over the height of the car, which Matsuo had set at 1,200 millimeters (47.2 inches). Uemura argued that it was too low for American buyers, and ultimately persuaded Matsuo to raise it to 1,260 mm (49.6 inches); the production car ended up at 1,283 mm (50.5 inches), but headroom was still far from generous for lanky gaijin. Running prototypes were completed by 1968, and in early 1969, test crews did extensive road testing in the U.S. The evaluation revealed a number of problems, principally a high-speed rear-end vibration that required an extensive redesign of the differential and half-shaft geometry. Because the new differential required a smaller fuel tank to fit in the Z's tightly packed tail, Uemura's engineers went on a frantic, last-minute weight-reduction campaign, hoping to improve fuel economy enough to compensate for the smaller tank. They ultimately saved about 50 kg (110 lb), allowing the U.S. version a reasonably low curb weight of 1,057 kg (2,330 lb).  The first 240-Z was 4,135 mm (162.8 in) long on a 2,304-mm (90.7-in) wheelbase. Bigger bumpers made the 260-Z and 280-Z significantly longer. The 280-Z was up to 4,404 mm (173.4 in), while the 2+2 was a sizable 4,707 mm (185.3 in), and weighed a hefty 1,415 kg (3,120 lb). KATAYAMA'S TRIUMPHDespite its teething problems, the Z went into production on schedule, and it went on sale in the U.S. on October 22, 1969. In Japan, it was called Fairlady Z, but Katayama stripped the Fairlady badges from every car sent to America, and replaced them with badges reading simply "240-Z."
With its standard 2.4 L (146 cu. in.) six, the American Z claimed 151 horsepower (113 kW). Thanks to its light weight, it had excellent performance. In June 1970, Car and Driver's early 240Z ran from 0-60mph (0-97 kph) in 7.8 seconds. Road & Track's January 1970 test car wasn't quite that quick, but recorded a highly respectable top speed of 122 mph (196 kph). That was no threat to a Corvette or an E-Type Jaguar, but it made the Z quicker than all but the meanest pony cars, not to mention a host of European sports cars, ranging from the Porsche 914 to GM's Opel GT. Testers had mixed feelings about the Z's handling and brakes, but they agreed that all the right ingredients were there. If the Z's lack of finesse cost it some points, it regained ground with its bargain price. Its list price in the U.S. was only $3,526, about what a buyer might expect to pay for a modestly equipped V8 Camaro, and $1,000 or more less than foreign rivals like the Alfa Romeo GTV. Better still, in typical Datsun fashion, that was a "fully equipped" price, including accessories like radio, full instruments, and radial tires, for which American automakers charged extra. The impact on the marketplace was considerable. Despite its lack of pedigree, the Z offered brisk performance, excellent build quality, and the styling flair of a European GT, for the price of a plebeian sedan. It absolutely brutalized the English sports cars of its era, particularly the MGB and MGC, and it dealt the Opel GT and Porsche 914 a blow from which they never really recovered. Even with outrageous dealer price gouging -- something that worried NMC USA enough that they threatened the franchises of several dealerships -- Datsun sold around 23,000 Zs in the 1970 model year. Total U.S. Datsun sales swelled from 58,000 to over 104,000, indicating that the Z was bringing new customers to Datsun showrooms. For 1971, American Z sales nearly doubled, to over 33,000.  Like the hood scoop of an early Thunderbird, the Z's distinctive bonnet bulge was a matter of making a styling feature of an engineering necessity: the bulge was necessary for the low hood line to clear the engine's timing chain cover. The Z soon proved its mettle on the racetrack, as well as on the sales floor. Bob Sharp and Peter Brock campaigned the 240-Z very successfully in Sports Car Club of America (SCCA) road racing, where the Z won the C-Production class for nine years in a row. Amateur racers could avail themselves of a host of performance and competition parts, both from Nissan and from a growing number of aftermarket suppliers. If the Z did not quite rival the ubiquitous Ford and Chevy small blocks for tunability, it was not for lack of trying. Katayama was ecstatic. He knew exactly what the 240-Z meant to Nissan in publicity, prestige, and profits. It was a resounding vindication of every argument he'd ever had with the home office. On the eve of the Z's launch, he wrote an inspiring dedication in the in-house Datsun newsletter, declaring that the new car had a Japanese heart and an American soul. In many ways, that statement could have been a description of Katayama himself.  The first 240-Z was a bargain, but by 1978, the Z was no longer so keenly priced. The 280-Z started at $8,683, more than twice what a 240-Z cost in 1970. This car, with the optional three-speed automatic and a host of dealer-installed accessories (like the front and rear bumper bars), was close to $10,000 new -- a lot of money in 1978. Still, more than 62,000 were sold that year, so buyers were not unduly dissuaded. GROWTH, GOOD AND BADDomestic automakers had generally shied away from two-seat sports cars, on the grounds that they would never sell well enough to be profitable. For many American buyers, the Z's combination of style, performance, and price were hard to resist. Sales of the Z continued to climb nearly every year, quickly topping 50,000, and sometimes approaching 75,000.
This sales growth was even more remarkable considering the rapid inflation of the Z's price. By the late seventies, the typical as-equipped sticker price was more than twice what it had been in 1970. That higher price bought progressively weaker performance. The original Z was designed with American safety and emissions standards in mind, but Nissan had not anticipated the rapid tightening of those standards that took place in the mid-seventies. The 240-Z's power began to drop as emission controls were added, falling to 129 net horsepower (96 kW) by 1973. In 1974, Nissan enlarged the Z's engine to 2.6 L (156 cu. in.), raising power to 139 hp (104 kW) and prompting a name change to 260-Z. The following year, new, federally mandated bumpers further swelled the Z's burgeoning curb weight, prompting another enlargement of the U.S. car's engine. This time, it grew to 2.8 L (168 cu. in.), and Bosch L-Jetronic fuel injection was substituted for carburetors. (Japanese and European cars remained at 2.6 L.) The new engine restored the renamed 280-Z to nearly its original power levels -- 149 hp (111 kW) -- but the Z was now an embarrassing 180 kg (400 lb) heavier than the original 240-Z. Not only was performance down, the extra weight hurt braking, and added a ponderous quality to the handling.  The Z had a well-planned dashboard and good ergonomics for its era, although the 160-mph (258-kph) speedometer is optimistic. Center-stack gauges include water temperature, oil pressure, voltage, fuel, and an analog clock. This car has an accessory steering wheel and new seats, borrowed from a seventies Chevrolet Camaro. As with the contemporary Corvette, though, sales continued to climb, even as performance eroded. Evidently, most customers were more interested in racy looks than outright speed, and in any case, even an automatic 280-Z had perfectly adequate acceleration for day-to-day driving. The Z was reasonably practical, as well, and from 1975, a longer 2+2 model was available for customers who demanded at least a token rear seat. In all, more than 540,000 240, 260, and 280-Zs were sold, a remarkable total for a two-seat sports car. The Z also inspired a variety of imitators, including the Mazda RX-7, Mitsubishi Starion, and Toyota Celica Supra.  Part of the appeal of the Z was that it was a reasonably practical car. The rear deck and hatchback allow a good deal more useful cargo room than a contemporary Camaro or Corvette. The lip at the front prevents suitcases from sliding into the driver's seat, although a cargo net would be a useful addition. The large intrusions on either side of the trunk are the shock towers for the rear suspension, which uses Chapman struts. HAIL AND FAREWELLThe original Z continued through 1978 before giving way to the new 280ZX. Anyone who hoped the second generation would be a return to the cleaner, lighter early Z was doomed to disappointment. The ZX looked like a bullet, and it still had potential -- in 1979, Paul Newman drove one to win the Z's ninth consecutive SCCA C-Production championship -- but it was bigger, softer, and more luxury-oriented; Car and Driver's Patrick Bedard found it alarmingly Buick-like. Sales remained strong, however, and so the more angular 300ZX, launched in 1984, was more of the same. It was not until 1990 that the Z again became a serious performance car.
 The 280-Z was the final iteration of the original Z-car, offered in the U.S. from 1975 to 1978. Its immediate successor was the 280ZX, which kept the Z's L28 engine and basic styling themes, but was bigger, heavier, and somewhat softer. It was also more expensive, a trend that would eventually hurt Z sales, leading to its temporary demise in the mid-1990s. By the time the ZX debuted in late 1978, Katayama had returned to Japan. It was not a triumphal homecoming; his success only served to alienate him further from his superiors. They were aware of the adulation Katayama had received in the press as the father of the Z and of Datsun's American success, and they deeply resented it. To Nissan management, it was not a sign of his achievement, but of a shameful lack of humility and loyalty. In 1975, Katayama had been promoted to chairman of NMC USA, while a cold-blooded company man, Hiroshi Majima, took over the presidency. The ostensible promotion served mainly to cut Katayama off from the day-to-day decision-making process; it troubled his employees, who didn't understand why the corporation treated him so shabbily. Finally, in 1977, Katayama was summoned back to Tokyo and told that he had been retired. He did not receive a seat on the board, which would have been customary for so successful an executive. Instead, he was transferred to one of Nissan's minor subsidiary companies, where he spent the remainder of his career in obscurity. For years, Katayama's name disappeared from many official company histories and press statements. It was not until the 1990s -- ironically, after Nissan merged with French automaker Renault -- that he was officially rehabilitated. In 1997, Nissan began to run television ads featuring an actor intended to represent the man the company's employees, dealers, and fans once called "Mr. K." The following year, Katayama was inducted into the Automotive Hall of Fame. As of this writing, he is still hale and hearty, approaching his 90th birthday.  Perhaps the Z's best styling feature is the sleek blending of the rear fender with the sail panel of the roof, although the heavy chrome window reveals mark it as a product of the 1970s. Headroom is not one of the Z's principal virtues; the 280-Z is only 1,295 mm (51 in) high. FADEAWAYThe Z-car is often the sole Japanese representative in lists of the most important cars of the last century, but the classic status now accorded early Mustangs and Camaros continues to elude it. It still has a small but loyal following, but early Zs in really good shape have become rare. Norm Krell, owner of our photo subject and an avid member of Zcar.com, laments that many owners are reluctant to spend too much money fixing or restoring their cars, because it's easy to spend more than the car is worth. Nissan found this out the hard way in 1997, when they launched a brief, ill-fated campaign to sell professionally restored 240-Zs at select Nissan dealerships.
 The Z's "sugar scoop" headlights were inspired by contemporary Ferrari practice; the headlight surround itself was plastic, sourced from a company that also manufactured seating for bus stops and stadiums. The clear plastic covers were not a stock item -- they were not legal at the time -- but were a popular accessory item, and helped to improve aerodynamics at higher speeds. Why is the Z a not-quite classic? If its tangible virtues did not quite live up to its promise, the same could be said of late-sixties pony cars, many of which were slower, clumsier, and far less sleek. Its marque may lack pedigree, but the Z proved itself on the racetrack again and again. It was also very popular and desirable when new, which often adds to a model's luster in later years. Why, then, is the original Z fading into obscurity, even as first-generation Camaro values climb ever higher? Part of the reason may simply be the era in which it appeared. Although the Z went on sale in late 1969, it's most strongly associated with the grim, recessionary mid-to-late seventies, the age of fuel shortages, political disillusionment, and cultural malaise. It's difficult to feel nostalgia for the seventies without a heavy dose of irony, which is why Gremlins and Pacers engender more back-handed affection than, say, a contemporary Corvette. Many people of a certain age may have owned or aspired to 280-Zs, thirty years ago, but a lot of people wore hip huggers and leisure suits, too, and they're similarly reluctant to admit that in polite company today. More significant, we think, is the fact that the Z is Japanese. When Special Interest Autos magazine ran a retrospective on the original 240-Z in the early eighties, they were besieged with angry letters, urging them to remember Pearl Harbor. Even today, many American and Europeans enthusiasts still dismiss Japanese sports cars as intrinsically inferior to their European rivals, with a level of condescension that verges on racism. Some popular automotive histories assert that the Z established Japan as a builder of serious sports and GT cars, but people said that about Honda's NSX and the modern Nissan Skyline GT-R, too, and it still doesn't seem to have stuck. The Z did illustrate, however, that Japanese automakers were capable of assaulting unfamiliar market segments with great alacrity, if they put their minds to it -- something Honda and Toyota would demonstrate repeatedly in subsequent years. To us, the real significance of the Z is not its reputation, looks, or performance, but the tenacity of Katayama, Matsuo, and Uemura in the face of a hostile and disinterested corporate culture. Katayama, in particular, knew from the start that even if he achieved his goals, the home office would never reward him for it. He went on anyway, out of love, and out of faith in his own instincts (which, by the by, proved to be entirely correct). If there is something quixotic and Pyrrhic about their achievement, that makes it no less admirable. In November 1983, Car & Driver, noting the depressing mediocrity of the contemporary Datsun lineup, lamented, "Where Have You Gone, Yutaka Katayama?" In this age of bland, monolithic corporate conformity -- in the auto industry and otherwise -- we find ourselves asking the same question. # # #
NOTES ON SOURCESOur account of the career of Yutaka Katayama comes primarily from David Halberstam, The Reckoning
 (New York: William Morrow and Company, 1986), with additional details from Daniel Banks, "Let’s Meet Mr. K!" (date unknown, Z Car Club Association, http://www.zcca.org/pages/ZCarsZhistoryMrK.htm, accessed 5 June 2009). Daniel Banks, "What's in a Name? The Change From Datsun to Nissan" (June 2002, Z Car Club Association, http://www.zcca.org/pages/ZCarsZhistoryDatsuntoNissan.htm, accessed 6 June 2009) was an additional source on the history of Nissan, including the decision to drop the Datsun name. Yutaka Katayama's letter from the Datsun newsletter, meanwhile, came from Dan Banks, "Just Z Facts" (February 2005, Chesapeake Region of the Antique Automobile Club of America, The Chesapeake Bulletin, Vol. 45, No. 2, http://local.aaca.org/chesapeake/JustZFacts.pdf, accessed 5 June 2009), which was in turn quoted from John Bell Rae, Nissan/Datsun A History of the Nissan Motor Corporation in the U.S.A. 1960-1980 (New York: McGraw Hill, 1982).Additional sources on the development of the Fairlady and 240Z/Fairlady Z included Merlin Blackwell's history (2000, Datsunhistory.com, http://www.datsunhistory.com/Roadsterstory.html, accessed 5 June 2009) and Carl Beck, "Z History: The True History of the Z Car" (12 May 2004, http://www.zhome.com/, accessed 6 June 2009). We also read Akira Yokoyama's authorized manga (comic book) account, Project X - Datsun Fairlady Z (Project X 240Z Challengers)  (Gardena, CA: Digital Manga Publishing, 2006), although its over-earnest dramatization must be taken with a grain of salt. For road test notes, we consulted the following articles from Car and Driver: "Ken Miles and the editors of Car and Driver Test Six Sports Roadsters" (September 1966); "Datsun 2000: Great looks it doesn't have -- but who cares?" (June 1968); "Datsun 240Z" (June 1970); "Datsun 260Z: Is taking a winner and improving on it a sure sign of greed?" (April 1974); Don Sherman, "Road Test: Datsun 280-Z" (June 1975); Larry Griffin, "Road Test: Datsun 280-Z: Eight years old and getting better every day" (July 1978); Patrick Bedard, "Datsun 280-ZX: Introducing the Grand Luxury package and all that entails" (November 1978); and Michael Jordan, "Where have you gone, Yutaka Katayama?" (November 1983), all of which were reprinted in R.M. Clarke, ed., Car and Driver on Datsun Z, 1600& 2000 1966-84 (Brooklands Books)  (Cobham, Surrey: Brooklands Books Ltd., 1986).We are also grateful to Norm Krell, who allowed us to photograph his red 280Z for this article on 5 June 2009, offering many anecdotes from his experience as a Datsun mechanic and enthusiast.
Comments (6)
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The latest 350 and 370Zs are conspicuously absent from the writeup.
If the focus was more on the circumstances surrounding the original's birth, that makes sense.
Nonetheless, what's your take on the recent torchbearers?