Imagine heading to the dealership in 1971.
Rod Stewart and Three Dog Night would have been on constant rotation on the AM radio, The French Connection and Dirty Harry were playing in theatres, and you could still pop over to the The Attic in West Â鶹´«Ă˝Ół»and get a steak the size of a hubcap by way of fine dining.
As for the cars on offer, well you had your choice. A pickup was a pickup, low on creature comforts, but high on practicality. There weren’t any crossovers yet, but maybe you might have checked out an AMC Eagle for on-road practicality and the ability to handle a bit of gravel. Or, if you were one of 100,000 Canadians who were willing to take a chance on one of the new Japanese imports, you might have climbed into a little Datsun 1200 and sailed out with a smile on your face.
In 1971, the Datsun 1200 was the most fuel-efficient car in Canada, and Datsun was the top-selling import. We had Mazda and Honda by this time, both of which landed in Canada before they arrived in the United States, and our national taste for cheap and cheerful was well established. Canadians liked our country big, and our cars small.
Nearly half a century later, a little green Datsun 1200 struggles up to the parking lot at Cypress on a cold and misty day. It pootles up to the top parking lot, heads over towards a gathering of about 100 cars, and finds a parking spot behind a heavily modified Nissan GT-R. Everyone loses their mind.
The contrast between GT-R and Datsun Sunny (as it was called in other markets) was pretty amusing to observe. The GT-R was a horsepower-heavy machine, tweaked for the show circuit with a body kit, air suspension, multi-coloured vinyl wrap, and big stereo. The Sunny was fitted with collector plates and a manual transmission. It had around 70 horsepower and an AM stereo.
Today, when people hear “Datsun,” they often think of the elegant 240Z or the nimble 510, both of which went on to have a lasting motorsports pedigree. The 510 and the 240Z both proved that Japan could produce cars that measured up against the standard of the world, and racing outfits like BRE (Brock Racing Engineering) campaigned them against the established giants with great success.
As a result, 510 values have been high for ages, and 240Z prices are poised to shoot up as people recognize them as an alternative to the burgeoning air-cooled Porsche 911 market. Their fans are a mix of old racers from the Westwood days and younger buyers who love the feel of an old Japanese car, which are simple to work on and let you get your hands dirty.
As the featured marque at this year’s Monterey Historics, Datsun/Nissan had plenty to crow about. They brought over the R382 racing car from the 1969 Japanese Grand Prix, dug the winning SCCA 510 of John Morton out of storage, and even had the R390 GT1 streetcar on display. This last is a twin-turbocharged, mid-engined supercar from the late 1990s, built to get through racing loopholes. Nissan only made one, but the specifications are such that it could eat a contemporary Ferrari for lunch.
But anyway, leave all the smells of scorched rubber and high-octane fuel behind for the present, and take a good look at this little green Datsun 1200. There’s a pretty good reason why everyone at that Carbs and Coffee show was thrilled by the pedestrian econo-box and only mildly amused by the heavily modified Nissan. People saved the 240Z and, to a lesser extent, the 510. They knew they were special from the outset, and preserved them.
The Sunny has a bit of a following in Japan and Australia, but hardly anyone cared about them on this side of the Pacific. They were enjoyed by their first owners, used by their second owners, and by the time they trickled down to their fifth or sixth owners, heartily abused. People fixed them with duct tape and stretched out the oil changes. They didn’t bother repairing the rust and fender damage. It wasn’t worth it.
Ordinary consumer cars like this get consumed. At the end of the oil age, whenever that comes along, the last cars preserved will be specialty Porsches and Ferraris and Bugattis, the really rare stuff that can be placed on a pedestal and admired as art.
However, if you’re a true car person, or even just someone who remembers 1971 and owning a shirt with lapels big enough to land a Boeing 747 on, the fancy stuff is only of passing interest. People didn’t live in air-cooled Porsches, they lived in old F100 pickups and gargantuan Pontiacs and flatulent Volkswagens and brightly coloured little Datsun runabouts.
Ironically, the plentiful, ordinary cars of the world are the ones that define our driving lives, but then fade away to become the rarest machines out there. Perhaps it’s something to think of for those of us who are casting our eyes at the crop of 1980s and 1990s cars and trying to guess which ones will become classics. Sure, you can expect stuff like the VW Corrado, Toyota Supra Turbo, and Nissan 300ZX to all appreciate in value and become the kinds of things you expect to see at any car meet.
But as for unexpected delights, those are going to come from further down the food chain. Who will preserve the basic Honda Civic, the humdrum Chevrolet Cavalier, the bone-stock Ford Fiesta, the pristine Nissan Micra. The future of classic car collecting belongs to the obvious specialty machines. But, for true rarity, you’re going to have to look for something so common it disappears into the background.
Brendan McAleer is a freelance writer and automotive enthusiast. If you have a suggestion for a column, or would be interested in having your car club featured, please contact him at [email protected]. Follow Brendan on Twitter: @brendan_mcaleer.
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