(first posted 6/26/2016) In early 1978 I was a regular customer of the local Avis in Manhattan and knew most of their fleet intimately. My partner Steve was still driving the Valiant he got while at Grumman, my partner Jack had his 1974 Impala, and my partner Jim had – well I don’t recall what Jim had – maybe a Mercury or something.
We had been in business about 18 months and by all measurements were doing well, but Jack, our finance and office manager made sure the quarterly accounting statements always showed a promising and growing business and that we had the finances to bring on new people and to weather any potential bad business periods.
There were no bad business periods.
One evening as we were meeting in the Ridgewood NJ office, Jack’s pre-printed agenda turned to “Other business”.
“I think we can all get company cars” Jack announced. “We can afford this and none of us are exactly driving around in nice cars. Plaut doesn’t even have a car.”
Jack was called Jack, Jim was called Jim, Steve was called Steve, and I was called Plaut.
I was OK with that.
One week after that meeting Steve had a new 1978 Cadillac four door sedan. The disk braked 1971 Valiant from Grumman was gone. Steve’s wife still had my brown 1972 Impala from last week’s COAL.
One week after the Cadillac arrived, Jack got a 1978 Corvette with automatic; Jack did not drive manual transmission, nor did Steve or Jim. Jack had always regretted selling his 1958 Corvette when he got married, so the silver Corvette in the office parking lot was not a surprise.
One week after the Corvette, Jim got a GMC van with second row captain’s chairs. He had two sons who were into soccer and Jim coached their team. The van had a lot of room for Jim, his wife and the kids, plus all the soccer equipment their team needed. Jim and the van were made for each other.
Once Jim heard Steve on the phone talking to someone about picking up some heavy office furniture saying “Jim will come by in the company truck and pick it up”. A bit mockingly and a bit red faced, Jim told Steve “why don’t you pick it up in the f*****g company Cadillac?” Steve, chastised, said nothing and lit another cigarette.
At that time my current assignment was Equitable Life Assurance Society in Rockefeller Center and I walked to work from my East 29th street rental apartment. I loved the cosmopolitan aspect of walking like a city gentleman (notice I said like, not as) to and from work and picking up dinner at the various cheese, bakery, fish, wine, and green grocers shops as I walked home down Third Avenue.
There were also about 18 pizza shops, 14 Chinese restaurants, and 2 excellent Jewish delis on my walk down Third Avenue. Fresh bagels with paper thin nova with a schmear was a real treat, breakfast, lunch, or dinner.
At first blush I didn’t think I wanted a car.
On second thought, a car would make it easier to get to and from Long Island and I’m sure Chris would love riding in and maybe soon driving a nice car. But what to get; this is a rare opportunity and one that may only come around once.
A few weeks later, while visiting a friend in NJ, I went to a VW dealership on Route 22 in Bridgewater to look at the 1978 Scirocco.
Driving the 1978 Scirocco was a revelation to a guy who only drove older model, mostly well used American cars. It was all pull and pleasant power from the front, not unlike a running dachshund hound. It was my first real experience with front wheel drive (not sure if any of the Avis rentals at that time were FWD but I think not) and it occurred to me that this lightweight FWD design was the future of all cars, foreign and probably domestic. It just seemed so logical.
It handled very well and pulled itself through corners beautifully.
But, I remembered my ex roommate Bob’s 1970 240Z and thought it would be a good idea to take a look at Datsun’s current version, the 280Z. Rumors were that 1978 would be the last year for the original Z body style and that the next model would be bigger and more luxurious.
Bigger and more luxurious, yea right! Datsun was going to brougham-ize the Z.
And change their name to Nissan. Isn’t Nissan a brand of a dried noodle soup mix?
I went down Route 22 to a Datsun dealer and said I’d like to test drive a manual shift 280Z. There was one sitting right by the main entrance of the small showroom.
The man who greeted me, looked me up and down, and said: “we only do test drives by appointment”.
OK. Thanks anyway.
A week or two later I went to Larry Peters Datsun on Route 17 a few miles north of our Ridgewood NJ office and told a salesman I’d like to test drive a manual 280Z. The salesman looked outside and around the lot, went to the key cabinet, gave me a key with the dealer’s label tag and said “the purple one all the way at the end of the line by the road. It’s a 5 speed; let me know what you think. It’s not really purple, but that’s what most people call it.”
Wow. This car was all muscle in a good, old fashioned way; it went like a heavy rocket and the big straight six sounded great. Maybe its cornering was not as light and quick and as “new feeling” as the Scirocco, but when the rear end slid out around on a sandy curve and it immediately responded to my old school correction, I was in love.
The Scirocco may be the future, but this was 1978’s now, and back then it didn’t seem that now was going to last much longer. I wanted old school, big straight six, and rear wheel drive before they disappeared altogether. And a long nose, short tail. Presence with a capital P.
“Do you have one in light blue with the 5 speed?”
He didn’t even have to check any paperwork. “We will have one in about a week. Want me to put it aside for you?”
“Yes. Please.”
Paul wrote up a 1971 240Z at here. In his post Paul wrote: “there’s just not a bad angle, line or detail on this Z”. Subsequent to 1971 there were some minor changes to the bumpers to meet safety regulations but the 1978 model basically had the same body as the 1970 model, and I agree 100% with Paul’s assessment. Every time I walked out to it with the key in my hand I smiled.
Tom Klockau wrote up the bigger and more luxurious 1983 Datsun 280ZX here and called it the “Cutlass Supreme Brougham Z”. Funny title, and Tom was right on.
Specifications for the 1978 280Z vary on the internet. The 1978 Datsun 280Z (USA version) had a straight six single overhead cam engine displacing 168.4 cu. in. (almost 2.8 liters). I believe the 1978 model developed 170 hp gross/149 hp net, at 5,600 rpm and 177 lb. ft. of torque at 4,400 rpm and weighed about 2,700 pounds. Some records say 0-60 came in 7.8 seconds, others in 8.4, and still others said 8.9.
All I can say is that it felt fast. Acceleration was a steady pour-on of thrust that did not weaken as it got near the 6,400 rpm red line.
The standard rear axle of the 1978 280Z was 3.545.
Thinking now about how the 1978 Z handled compared to my current 1999 NB Miata, I believe the Z was pure power and thrust with better straight line performance; the engine seemed un-endingly strong. But the 2,300 pound Miata is a better balanced car with a lighter feeling that makes cornering a blissful go-cart-like experience.
The Miata pulls nicely for a 140 hp car but the thrust starts to fall off well before its 7,000 rpm red line. There was no “fall-off” point in the Z, or if there was, I failed to notice it with all the auditory and physical happenings that occurred in it at high engine speeds.
The Z made a wonderful sound as it wound up.
Of course, the Miata has the benefit of 21 years of automotive development, and hopefully rust prevention, under its belt. I plan to keep the Miata as long as I can.
Note-1: There was no 1998 model year Miata. The second generation (NB1) Miata came out in March of 1998 as a 1999 model. I bought mine in November 1998. More on this car later.
Note-2: I never felt intimidated by large trucks and SUVs on highways and interstates in the 280Z. I do in the Miata. Maybe I’m just older and wiser – or at least just older.
I’d love to drive them side-by-side to see if my memory is correct. Perhaps the Z wasn’t as fast as it seemed back in the day.
The Z’s dashboard had four gauges and a clock in three round coves at the top of the center stack. Mine had an AM/FM radio and power antennae. The Z in the above photo is missing that radio and the center stack molding is not fully attached.
It had a 160 mph speedometer on the left, tachometer on the right. I do not think that is the normal position for these gauges in most other cars.
The engine hood was hinged at the front. There was a hard wired 12 volt mini-trouble light with a switch and a long cord neatly wrapped around it nestled near the engine for emergency use, and two little flip up rear fender doors on each side near the firewall for easy access to the windshield washer fluid and the battery.
The Z’s fuel injected engine was a much more complicated affair than my late but beloved single barrel Tempest OHC-6 and it generated about the same horsepower in a lighter, 5 speed car with a 3.545 rear axle. The heavier Pontiac had a two speed automatic and a 2.56 rear axle.
Totally different cars, each very good for what they were designed to do.
This was the first car I experienced with electronic fuel injection. It was wonderful to feel and hear the motor controls doing their job with no input from me. It always started instantly in all weather with no accelerator pumping, steadily revved a bit high for a few seconds, and then slowly came down to idle. It had a loud cooling fan that initially engaged on startup and then spun down with a diminishing roar along with the engine’s rpm.
Also, this particular car still took leaded fuel; it had the big fuel filler neck that later in the same 1978 model year was replaced with the skinnier unleaded filler neck and flapper valve that was standard from that point on.
One defining characteristic of the Z was the driver’s position just two or three inches ahead of the rear axle. Turning corners placed the driver just about at the center pivot point of the turn’s arc; the whole front end swung through turns with the driver close to the center of the arc’s circle.
Quite a change from the old Corvan Greenbrier I used to drive where the driver sat on top of the front wheels. One had to anticipate the corners in the Z and go a bit past the corners in the Greenbrier. I don’t think anyone ever confused the driving dynamics of these two vehicles. At least not for long.
In late 1978 I moved from my 29th street Manhattan rental apartment to a new condominium complex in Bergen County NJ, just a few miles east of our Ridgewood NJ office.
Chris now had his own bedroom and a great neighborhood in which we could ride our bikes together. We had a pool on the property and two tennis courts. It was country club living.
I recall that Chris, seeing me swim past him in the pool with my head under water, would jump on my back sinking me to the bottom and yell “swim Dad swim”. I could hear my neighbors laughing even though I was pinned to the bottom at the shallow end of the pool. These were nice times for Chris and me.
Don’t laugh. Jorts and the emaciated homeless look were very much in style in the late seventies. Frankly, lots of weird things were stylish in the 1970s. Do you remember the high and wide lapel suits, the long collar shirts, the really wide ties that looked like they were made with a grandmother’s couch upholstery, and the long hair and facial hair that guys were wearing?
And cowboy boots.
I had all of that – and more. Ever hear of blazer suits?
Just look at any of the Dirty Harry movies or rock bands with their 1970s clothing and hair styles. What were we thinking? Why didn’t anyone tell us we looked like ELO (Electric Light Orchestra) rejects?
That brougham T-Bird in the above photo is sitting in, and sticking out of, the same spot in my parent’s garage as my old 1953 Chrysler. The engine in the brougham Grand Prix next to it was just as hard to work on as the one in the T-Bird. My mother liked malaise era broughams; my father dealt with it.
When the above photo was taken by Chris, he and I were helping my parents clean out 34 years of accumulations from their attic so they could sell the house and move to Florida. It was probably 110-115 degrees Fahrenheit or more and very dusty and dirty in that attic.
For days after that weekend we were both coughing up black stuff.
Chris loved the Z. At first he was too young to drive, but he had fun riding in it. I put the bike rack from the Impala on it over the rear window so we could ride at my home or his.
Back at the office, the business never did any traditional advertising. We went to the semi-annual Mark IV IV-League (get it?) national conventions and gave presentations, workshops, and delivered technical papers. That way we got our name noticed and also allowed us to identify, and determine the technical capabilities of, potential employees.
We never hired anyone who worked for our customers; pirating employees was a good way to get a bad reputation fast.
I also wrote a series of one-day Mark IV technical classes on the use of the software’s special features and Steve, Jim, and I taught those classes in major cities throughout the country.
The IV-League work and the classes helped publicize our company and the one-day special features classes actually made a modest net profit on their own.
The four of us were also popular at IV-League conferences because we were each known for hosting dinners for customers and conference presentation attendees. In those days, business meals were 100% deductible from corporate income as business expenses. That is not necessarily the case today.
This photo was taken at an IV-League held at the Harbor Island Sheraton in San Diego. Nice Place.
Jim and I had asked a customer of ours (actually she was my manager at a work site) if she would like to be part of a photo replicating a famous Beach Boys album cover, you know, the one with the surf board. She said yes. Then we swooped her up and had someone take the shot before she could get too angry or wiggle out of the frame.
She was a good sport and I think she asked for a copy of the photo. Or asked me to destroy it, I can’t remember which.
Back row starting from left to right: me, partner Jim, and Mike (a customer).
Front row: Name withheld for security reasons.
Small companies are a bit like rock bands; they rarely last forever. Break ups are so common that it is unusual to see any that stay together for long.
I was happiest when the company was small enough that Steve, Jim, and I could oversee the technical aspects of all of our customer projects personally. But I was the only one who felt that way. The three others wanted to grow as large as possible and then let a major corporation buy out the whole company for what could be a major pay day.
I understood their reasoning and respected it, but I was beginning to better understand where I was in my life’s adventure, who I was, and what I really wanted. Specifically, I wanted to live a more simple life than they did. I wanted to stay technical and be involved in programming computers and do in the future what I had been doing in the past. I wasn’t big on change.
But, I also wanted to not be impoverished like I had been for a number of years after my divorce from Annie. The key to that and living a simpler life was to be careful and prudent with finances, and not fall victim to the trap that is the all-too-human desire for bigger, better, newer and nicer everything.
I wasn’t about to move to Walden Pond, or worse to Slab City in the California desert, but the constant rush of the rat-race wasn’t what I had in mind for the rest of my life.
I thought carefully about what I should do next.
Accordingly, in 1982 at the age of 38, I took a buyout from my three partners and retired from the company we had started in 1976. I spent a week at tennis camp hoping to improve my game so I could beat Chris; that never did work. I got a library card and started reading about world history, our own USA history, and every novel John Irving and Stephen King wrote up to that time. I also did a little Mark IV training for the UN Secretariat administrative staff. I felt free, unburdened, and happier than I had ever been in my adult life.
I was pleased to see that my ego and sense of self worth were not tied to my job and that I did not need a constant stream of business activities to be a fulfilled person. It was nice to know that I could psychologically handle periods of “voluntary unemployment”. And I was also very much aware that it was truly a blessing that I could financially afford some periods of “voluntary unemployment”.
The 280Z was still running well mechanically but it was starting to have rust problems, most likely caused by my regular wintertime trips over salt encrusted roads throughout the NYC metropolitan area and the rest of the Northeast. Rust was known to be the weakest part of the Datsun Z family.
If I was going to live a simpler life, I should get a simpler car.
When you know what you want, it’s best to hold on tight to your dreams.
Some 2007 Honda Accord ads featured this ELO song with voice over narration by Kevin Spacey.
Instead of waking up early on Sundays I am now finding myself staying up late on Saturdays to read the latest installment in this series. Again, not disappointed. Older Z’s are one of the cars I always find myself looking at and wondering about, that won’t be changing anytime soon, thanks!
There’s a video interview somewhere online where Yoshihiko Matsuo, who shaped the Z, is asked what he was most proud of on the car. His answer was the front fenders panels, Nissan had never made one in a single piece that folded so deeply into the hood plane – hence the sugar scoops. Long way to get to my point, being that this might have contributed to water catchment in these panels.
We never got the 280 engine in the Z short body in oz, but I had an 83 version in my much cherished Cedric/280C. Lazy but more than sufficient.
Big fan of the 70s sound, so your pics of that period are fantastic. Yacht rocks!
I saw a couple of these at a car show in downtown Mt. Carroll, IL last year. Even with the bigger bumpers, they were attractive.
I love your series, it’s the best thing on this site in my opinion!
Phenomenal COAL and a great read. 1978 280Z is what I learned to drive a manual on. (Destroyed the clutch.)
Old Zs are getting thin on the ground here the last two I saw were covered in leaves and crap in a driveway locally where I was doing a concrete pour both were ex JDM Fairladys imported loved and then ignored they are gone now probably for scrap as they were both rusty and one was high in the front like it had no motor shame one could have been saved from them.
They are also thin on the ground on this side of the Tasman. And bloody expensive when they surface out.
This autobiography series just gets better every week. And although the cars are a vehicle to tell the story and not the story themselves, I love the Z but much more that Corvette.
Being able to afford “voluntary unemployment” is awesome. Not being able to, sucks. Being impoverished leaves deep scars in your mind.
Thanks for explaining what those little covers are for in the Z.
What an interesting situation you and your partners were in to suddenly be in a position to have any car you want brand new. Seeing the different choices made is also interesting.
I noticed that you only considered two imports after an almost uninterrupted line of domestics. Was that a conscious decision? Was it based on the offerings of the domestics or a sense that imports were where the future was. For the most part, your ownership experiences of domestics had been positive. We have gotten hints that your car future will be mainly with imports.
One of your partners had jumped on a Corvette, a silver 78 that is my favorite of the 68-82 C3s with the modernized interior, the glassback, and the fact that the 350 was staring to come alive again after getting on top or emissions, 220hp net with the 4sp L82. I wonder if you two tried each others cars as perhaps you were both cars intended market.
A few years later (I bought it used) but I went the other way and got a ’78 Scirocco (after hitting black ice on I-89 in my ’74 Datsun 710 and getting the end of the front bumper wrapped around cable guard rail I decided I needed FWD especially in a light car -of course was living in more snowy country than you at that time)….no more automatics for me (the 710 was my last automatic car), as the Scirocco was a 4 speed. Still my favorite car, though it definitely suited a younger me, as I don’t think I’d enjoy squatting low enough to get in on a regular basis nowdays.
My brother-in-law bought a 240Z back in those days (though his also was a few years old, think it was a ’71 or ’72. He didn’t have it long though, he’s still one to buy older cars but keep them for a short time (I can’t count the number of cars I’ve known him to drive since the 70’s, whereas I’m on my 5th car since that time). I liked the 240Z better than the ZX that came out the next year, which my co-worker (who was working in Kingston NY at the time) bought.
I also liked that the tachometer on the Scirocco was on the right side of the speedometer…maybe it shouldn’t make much difference but I thought it should be towards the gearshift (not sure what they would do for right hand drive models) especially in a manual shift car. My GTI and Golf which followed the Scirocco both had it on the left of the speedometer…maybe that’s part of the reason I preferred the Scirocco..no, honestly the reason was the incredible body style (was and probably still am a bit into appearances). Of course I’m ignoring my father’s ’59 bug, which didn’t have a tachometer at all (or gas gauge or anything besides the speedometer..but you could always hear the engine).
As everyone, enjoying your story, looking forward to the ’82 Accord (another car I missed, though my best friend bought exactly that year/model).
“Jack was called Jack, Jim was called Jim, Steve was called Steve, and I was called Plaut.”
I had to laugh at that one. My family name is not easy to spit out, (three syllables), so I never get/got called by that. My given name is not easy either, so I got something based on my physical appearance like “Skinny” (from waaaaaay back), or “Blondie” (again, from way back in the day). Now you could call me Tubby or Gray-ie.
I helped my older brother evaluate new cars for 1978; his first new car a real big deal for him. We looked at everything, including VW Rabbit (Golf) and a LeCar. I often joked that I was mechanically inclined and my brother, was mechanically reclined. So we were looking at simple utilitarian cars. But I do remember the sensation of driving my first FWD car (the Rabbit) and how vastly different it felt than my parent’s Mercurys and even my brother’s Dodge Charger. It was a tantalizing time, with the exception that engine outputs would be further strangled for a few more years. By the late-1980’s I finally bought my own FWD car and was rather happy with it.
Great series, enjoying every minute of it.
My favorite part of this week’s entry was your voluntarily getting out of the rat race. I’ve always felt a bit alone in that I’ve never had much ambition to “make it big.” Maintaining my old junk, buying some more every once in a while, roaming aimlessly, reading boring old literature, and keeping my wife happy are pretty much my ambitions in life. When I was young I always imagined myself as some automotive executive or something, but I lost that kind of killer instinct in something like the 6th grade.
I’m sure, however, that you didn’t hang out in the library for long. 🙂
Good job, as always…
Another enjoyable read. And I can tell why the business succeeded. You just made me want that Datsun and small sporty cars aren’t remotely my taste.
Wonderful article. I had a 78 JDM Fairlady version with the 2.0 Litre L-series 6 – as you mention, it was a great engine – torquey and full-throated, much like a smaller version of a Jag six. Great car – I still miss it.
I would have gotten the Scirocco, but I can respect your decision to get the Z. I got to drive a friend’s 240Z briefly ca. 1973, and it was a blast!
In 1981 I took a buyout from the Navy at age 38. Also faced periods of temporary unemployment until I became a teacher. Love it when I see periods of the past bubble up that I can relate to. My choice was a Corvette ragtop but would have been just as happy with the Z.
Love the stories and hate knowing the day is coming that you are going to run out of cars to write about.
My parents had a Datsun 280Z when I was a boy. I loved riding in it. It wasn’t very practical, there was no rear seat for me to ride in behind them while they drove. But I still enjoyed it. I would’ve gladly inherited the car when I got old enough to drive, but sadly, that never happened.
First car I ever piloted, albeit only to back it up in a driveway, was a 240Z. I was about 12. There was snow on the ground. The hood stretched into the next county. That’s about all I remember.
I, too, have gone through the post-divorce poverty years and like you, it focused me on living well within my means. I am not in the place where I have partners to buy me out, but I’m a director in a software company now and make damn good money for the Midwest. Yet I live in a very modest 1969 ranch house and drive a 10-year-old, paid-for Ford Focus. Keeping my expenses low is letting me write checks twice a year to Purdue, where my older son goes. The younger son goes off to college somewhere in 2017. If I play my cards right, I’ll keep writing checks without batting an eyelash. And then I get to focus on figuring out when I can retire. Not that I want to retire; I like to work. But I might work for a lot less money in the nonprofit sector.
I’ve found that memories about engine performance and such tend to be formed in the context of their times. I rather suspect that if you could drive your 280Z now, compared to your Miata the engine would feel less of a revver than the Miata’s. But yes, at the time, the fuel injection made the 280Z a sweet motor.
I can relate well to your decision to get out of the corporate fats lane. After I left Telemundo in 1992, I took almost three years “off”, before I started to get serious again about figuring out a new line of work. I rode my bike, learned new skills, studied subjects that I never would have otherwise, and spent a lot more time with my family. And of course moved to Eugene, after the first year, when I realized Los Gatos was much too expensive for my new lifestyle.
It was a very rejuvenating period, although I did wonder at times how I was going to support a family of three kids and a stay-at-home wife. But I just followed my latent interest in building, and it worked out eventually.
I wish I had the courage to follow a latent interest and try to make it into something. Maybe after I’m done writing big checks to Purdue.
So you were one of those guys, huh? Aside from this being a great series to begin with, it hits nicely close to home, as in 1978 I’d have been 11. My family loved in Sussex County in the Northwest corner of NJ, but my grandparents still lived in Wyckoff. My grandmother worked on West Ridgewood Ave in the heart of Ridgewood. All of our doctor appointments, shopping trips, etc were done by returning to what my mother affectionately referred to as “Civilization”. One of my favorite aspects of weekly travels to that area in Mom’s ’77 Monte Carlo was seeing all of the higher-end and import sports and luxury cars that just weren’t the norm further out, where folks needed and could only generally afford more mundane transportation. I haven’t spent a lot of time in northern Bergen County in a dozen years or so, but sure do miss that area. As a kid it was a stomping grounds of a sort, and thinking of the Z, the big Cadillac and the Corvette parked along Ridgewood Avenue brought back memories of walking those streets to get new shoes or a haircut or lunch and just drooling over the close proximity to cars I rarely got to ogle just an hour or do away where we lived. Good memories.
Small world, I grew up in Midland Park. I once rented a room in a large old house in Ridgewood working a day job while going to night school (FDU). At that time (1968) I drove a 1964 Corvair Spyder that would drain the battery overnight. As a result I would push the car out of the driveway and unto the street then push it for all I was worth, jump in and pop the clutch. The joys of being broke.
An enjoyable COAL series with some interesting featured cars, and a great story about the value of staying true to yourself.
I so wanted a 1978 Z but couldn’t afford it. At that time I had a neighbor 2 doors down with a new Z just like the featured car, and I envied him every time he drove by. I also knew 3 other people with 77/78 Z cars, and they loved them. A co-worker drove hers for almost 200K miles before letting it go (I’m on the west coast so rust isn’t an issue).
That 25th anniversary Vette and the Scirocco look quite appealing as well. 1978 wasn’t a bad year for certain cars.
Another well written and entertaining installment, Mr. Plaut. This is a great series; I’m going to miss it when it ends.
+1. I don’t know if you have ever written professionally but, at least in my opinion, you have the chops for it. I never felt compelled to compete in the rat race but instead was satisfied to make a comfortable living and enjoy my life. There were times when I (briefly) regretted not “trying harder” but all in all I’m satisfied with how things worked out. At the very least I was able to retire while I was still young and healthy enough to enjoy it.
Hey guys, long time since I’ve popped my head in here. I’ve been laying low recently… not because I lost interest; quite the opposite in fact – CC was occupying way too much of my time! I’d read and comment on the articles here, then that’d send me down the wormhole of Oldcarbrochures and Hemmings and automobile-catalog, etc. Next thing you know, the whole evening is gone. Too many other things I wanted to get done in my spare time falling by the wayside. I have no idea how Paul and all the other frequent contributors manage to churn out so much content here, it’s impressive to say the least. Eventually, I’m sure I will return to “regular” status, but I’ve been following this particular series with great interest and had to break my self-imposed exile to comment on it.
Rlplaut – fantastic stuff, and so much of it is very familiar to me. I grew up on Long Island not far from Grumman Bethpage in Wantagh. I’m younger than your son, but I can remember when they still flew E-2 Hawkeyes out of there and riding my bike with my dad up to Central Avenue to watch them on the runway. There was a little flight school that faced Route 107 back then, not sure if that’s the same Grumman Flying School you studied at… I think SUNY Farmingdale ran it during my lifetime, and there were a bunch of interesting, decrepit airplanes outside (an Ercoupe!) I know Rockville Centre and Freeport well, since I worked at pizzerias (and spent many drunken nights) in those towns when I was a young lad. We had a little rinky dink boat when I was a kid and I’ve got lots of great memories from the bay. I don’t know if you still live around here, but I was really bummed to find out that a lot of those little bay houses built back in the ’20s on salt marshes and sand spits got washed away during Hurricane Sandy.
My parents are around your age and my dad worked at Photocircuits and MultiWire in the ’70s, which you might be familiar with (or not) – I know they both did business with Grumman, though. He was always traveling and going to conferences and your stories and pictures remind me so much of his… the jorts, the beards, the shades, the “blazer suits”, everything LOL.
The Manhattan stuff hits close to home, too. I ride the LIRR into work most days (it’s up to $287/month from Zone 7, if you can believe that!) I work for Con Ed out of the corporate HQ on Irving Place, so your old apartment and the Red Ball Garage are right in the heart of my turf. I love walking around the city and all the great food and the myriad of people and things you encounter, good and bad, on an hourly basis. One of my friends used to have an apartment on 29th and there were incredible views of the Chrysler Building from its roof.
And then to top it all off, you owned a 1982 Honda Accord? I might be the world’s biggest fan of these cars and owned several of them when I was in my late teens/early 20s. If they hadn’t all rusted away (or if I lived in Oregon) I think I’d probably still own one.
Anyway, keep up the great work. You’ve got a real talent for storytelling. Even the music is great!
Enjoyed this COAL very much Plaut. 1978 was a great year for cars and I managed to own two from that year in the 80s as used cars. They were two of my dream cars growing up, a ’78 Scirocco with the one-year-only short stroke engine and a ’78 280Z 4-speed with 50K and original bronze paint.
The Scirocco exceeded my expectations and to this day is the best car I’ve ever owned (not to be confused with favorite).
The 280Z was the opposite. I had huge hopes for that one as it successfully married the beautiful lines of the original with the big bumpers and fuel injected six. Yes it really was like a muscle car, and felt like it too. Only without power steering. The car drove like a truck and had that weird feeling in the turns of pivoting through from your butt, like you mentioned. Then there was that rock crusher of an engine that would vibrate the shift lever like it was going out of style.
Love that pic with the ’77 Grand Prix and ’70 T-Bird!
Just watched Jeff Lynne and ELO on stage at Glastonbury – some things (luckily) dont change!
And I agree, this has become the highlight of every weekend.
Another great installment. A cousin bought a 280z about 1976. He let me drive it, but it was just a couple of times around the block. I remember that feeling of the neverending rush of torque. He told me it was the fuel injection. I have since let was displacement and a sweet engine.
I had an aunt and uncle who lived in Franklin Lakes, a beautiful area.
Add me to the list; this was a great article. I think many of us here can relate to the “car-as-catalyst” mode of autobiographical storytelling. Even when talking to strangers, I often find myself steering the conversation towards “what were you driving back then?” For whatever reason, it’s a great framework for any discussion of the past. RLPlaut, you’re a master of the art. Really appreciate these pieces.
the blue paint on your z is my new favorite color. i’ll have to research the name.
I think I’ve found the most interesting COAL articles have been ones that really painted a picture not only of the car and ownership experience, but also the context and environment in which the car existed. Your COALs have been excellent examples of this. I sincerely hope in the next few decades of your life, you go through a bunch more cars so I have more to read!
Best. Series. Ever.
This one hit close, as I’m in my late thirties and working in software.
Cars In The Context Of Life.
Even though I frequent CC almost daily, RL, I’ve been looking forward to each new installment of your COAL enough to seek it our 1st thing Monday if I haven’t had the chance to read it over the weekend.
In my current life, weekends are often busier than weekdays. Today my choices include trying to finish the main-floor bathroom remodel or anticipating the needs of one of my clients and composing a :60 commercial for their annual auto flea market/car show that’ll run on their website until the next year’s two-week all-out radio blitz leading to the event itself.
Decisions…
Love the series. Funny comment about the van. I found my friends would ask me to move furniture etc after I bought my first van (coincidentally a ’79 G-van). At first I was happy to help, but it got annoying, especially when my friends were perfectly capable of renting a truck for the day instead of ruining my weekend. Kudos to Jim for putting a stop to it before it started.
Another fantastic article–while I rarely get to them on the weekend itself, these installments have become one of the best parts of my Mondays. And that Z–wow. What a car, what an incredible shape. An E-type for the masses, but with a style all its own. And that light blue is a great color for it. It seems like such a bygone era when folks not only got company cars, but got to pick out exactly what they wanted too…though that can, at least in your case, be seen as the fruits of hard work and a successful business model!
You were also quite geographically close to some of my family members at the time, as well. Mom grew up in Fair Lawn and Dad in Saddle Brook; Mom’s family had moved away by the early 80’s but Dad’s parents lived there until they passed away (’85 and ’91). Had an aunt in Woodcliff Lake at the time, and still have another aunt & cousin in Garfield and a cousin in Emerson.
I never aimed at 50-year ownership when I bought a1978 at age 29. But here I am at 73 and the Z is now 44. I saved every book, magazine article, showroom brochure and all paper history. Pic is several years old now, but the car is unchanged with 28,384 miles.
Is it proper to talk about a rear axle when it had an independent rear suspension?
The numbers are the gear ratios, not how they are built. How many more teeth the “ring” (big round one, drives the axle-shafts) gear has than the “pinion” (little cone-shaped driven by the drive-shaft). With the engine at the same RPMs, in direct drive (4th in the Datsun, 2nd in the Pontiac), the Datsun’s 3.545(:1) will go slower than the Pontiac’s 2.56. The Datsun should accelerate faster, though. Smaller number = faster, bigger number = quicker. That’s before the engine/transmission/weight get mixed in. The Datsun can also have a higher number because it has the extra overdrive 5th gear, effectively lowering the axle ratio in it.
You want the engine to be at the right part of it’s power band where you use it most. Do you want to cruse at 2500rpm for smooth fuel economy (low number axle) or blast up to it at 6000rpm for sheer power while sucking gas (high number axle)?
Automatics can usually have a lower number because the fluid coupling can slip and let the engine go faster in the lower gears (at least starting in 1st in newer cars).
Edit add to be clearer: The Pontiac’s automatic trans only has two gears, so it’s 2nd (High) gear does the same job as the Datsun’s 4th.
Missed this one the first time around and the repost fits in well with the recent malaise-era carshow article. Along with the Trans Am, the Datsun/Nissan Z-car was a very popular seventies’ sporty car that really highlighted the transition from ‘sporty’ to ‘brougham-y’. A lot of people dismiss the late seventies’ Datsun Z as an open-neck, gold-chain-wearing disco-car, similar to the low-performance Corvette. I might even go so far as to suggest the moment the Datsun ‘jumped the shark’ was when the fuel-filler neck switched from the larger, leaded-fuel diameter to the smaller, unleaded one.
Still, the overall accompanying story was one of the better ones and goes a long way to describing the ‘feel’ of the era to those of us who were there at the time, right down to the varied choices the company’s founders made when they were successful enough to be able to afford just about any vehicle they wanted.
I have one of my father’s.
• Wide √
• Loud √
• Polka dots √
I don’t know that anyone would’ve upholstered a couch thiswise; on the other hand, neither do I know they wouldn’t’ve—it was the 1970s. To the maximum practicable degree I avoid wearing neckties, but my mother hates this one so I keep it in good condition for state occasions during her visits.
Because nobody had any thick ice to stand on about it…?
Herb Tarlek, your outfit is ready.
Car ownership is a good device to help define the timelines in our life. I think that most people, even non “car people” will have memories and strong feelings about certain cars from their past.
I remember when early Zs were very popular as 5-10 year old used cars. When I was finishing up college in the late 70’s, and working for the County, several of my mid 20 something co- workers had 240-280Zs. One of the girls I worked with had a ’66 Mustang fastback, they were admired then but hadn’t become hyper expensive yet.
My Son was born in the late 80’s and when he saw his first Z he became obsessed with them. In the early 90’s I decided to be the cool Dad and buy the car that he liked. I found my ’77 280 2+2 w/five speed. It was an immaculate, one owner, nicely preserved example bought from the local Salvation Army lot! I’d driven past and seen the snout sticking out and came by after work to check it out. Since it was a 2+2 it wasn’t that desirable to most, even with the five speed. It was perfect for me since I had two young kids. I taught my Son to drive in it, and we spent many wonderful hours together, driving along all the back roads of the South Bay.
I even started a swap meet used Z parts business, buying and selling a few cars, buying parts stashes, parting out cars, and having some Z apparel made up. The business never really took off, even after several years of trying. Of course I got out before early Zs became big money. Maybe I wasn’t committed enough, I was inspired by the Corvette parts company, Mid America, which started out in a similar manner. I had a regular full time job as well as three kids, so maybe I didn’t put enough time in.
Your series reminds us that not only does every car have a story, more importantly, every person has a story.