I have just pulled my 1972 240Z, of which I am the original owner, back in the garage to re-assemble for transport to Les Cannaday for it's rebirth (restoration). This has caused me to lament on the life of a car, an oddessey if you like. A car which has been part of some of the fondest of memories and some of the saddest of memories. I have decided to start a thread sharing the restoration and telling the story of the life of my 1972 Datsun 240Z. It will be a story of 4 years of the original fast and furious and 30 years of good intentions without results. Come along for the ride, if you wish, let me know what you think of the idea be it, in your opinion, trite or intriguing.

I know what you mean, Jerry. Before I was born, my Dad had things like MG-TDs (a pair of them). Growing up, I recall Fiats, Singers, more MGs and the like. I learned to drive in an MG 1100 (the original Mini's slightly larger brother). Besides several thorougly modern cars and my current 240Zs, I've had things like an MGB, a limited edition Chevy Vega with a twin cam head by Cosworth, and a graymarket BMW 323i. My brother caught it too, although maybe to a lesser extent, he has an MGB in the garage and a '63 Land Rover 88 (Series 2a) in the drive.

Come on man get on wit it!

Back to the WINTER MODIFICATIONS: Looking forward to the prospect and challenge of beating Moriarty in the spring, we set to work. First, research; reading "How to Modify", I absorbed some great ideas. Now for the plan. My idea was, with the help of George and our local speed shop, to first remove the AC unit. (Damn the creature comfort! It had now become weight and a power drain.) Next, remove the anti-backfire valve to make the throttle more responsive. Remove the oil from the carburetor vacuum pistons and lubricate the oil cap assembly with a lightweight spray lubricant for quicker response from the SU’s. Remove the distributor’s vacuum advance mechanism and have it set up for mechanical advance, setting at 15 degrees static and a total of 11 degrees distributor advance, beginning at 1200 RPM, and all in at 2400 RPM. I also planned to add a Mallory High Energy Coil. Now cap that off with a custom free flow dual exhaust system. With all of this work I once again plan to "own the course". This was all legal within our interpretation of the rules…. But as we reminded ourselves, with stickers on our tool boxes which read, "When the Green Flag Drops The Bull $^!# Stops"… To be continued.

Throughout the winter months the plan was put into work. The modifications were completed one by one. With school winding down in the spring, I was also looking for a job back in my hometown. If I had known what lie ahead that spring I would have spent my time in a much different way, but wouldn’t we all.

The Z was readied for the coming summer’s activities with much care and attention to detail. I truly believed that with the modifications to the car and the improvement in my driving skills, the summer of “75” would take me to the nationals.

In April, I found a job managing a furniture store in my hometown and rented a farm house 6 miles outside of town. The farm house was in need of much work. The central part of the house was a log cabin with room additions from later years. The house set in the middle of a totally flat 600 acre corn field. There were two garages, a large unused barn, and about 2 acres of yard. The yard was perfect for night bonfires and volleyball games. This was going to be a great summer.

From the start I said that my 1972 Z was tied to the best and the worst of times in my life. We have been taking a drive through the good times and there are more to come.

The next chapter in the life of my Z is hard to put into words, but necessary to explain why I have not give up on the project after 30 years of good intentions with limited results.

Sounds like me in the 71 GTX..440 back in the day.

You are doing a good job of giving us just enough info to keep our appetite whetted, and in much suspense.

^ ditto

waiting intently....

waiting intently....

The suspense is agonizing!

Now, I have been remise to not tell you about our dog, Jeep. Jeep was a cocker spaniel poodle mix which we had gotten back when we first got married. I can remember our trips to the Muncie Drive In, when we would stop along the way at Dogs & Suds and pick up some hot dogs and root beer. We always got a root beer for Jeep. Then while at the drive in Jeep would sit in the back deck area of our Z and belch. Funny stuff! A couple of weeks ago, when I bolted the seats back in the Z, I sat in the driver’s seat for the first time in over 20 years. I looked over my shoulder into the rear deck area, and those days came rushing back as if they were yesterday.

In early May, we moved back home without having finished the farm house, but we only needed a few more weeks. We stored our things and moved into my parent’s home. My parents live out of Richmond just about a mile short of our rented farm house; it was in one of those “pep & plum” towns (Boston, IN). My older brother lived just across the street.

It was May 9th, 1975; my 22nd birthday. I had driven into work that day. I got off early to come home for a birthday get together in my brother’s backyard, and it was to be an evening of family, food and volleyball.

I appreciated the road to Boston, as I had driven the 5 miles of winding, well maintained 2 lane road thousands of times. I drove home, apexing the corners and drifting to the music of the post modification free flow exhaust, and the immediate backfire as I let off the throttle, setting the car up for the turns. As I got to my parents house, I parked in front, and just as I started to get out of the Z, I saw Jeep; he had recognized the sound of the Z, and had begun running from my brother’s back yard at a full sprint to greet me. There was nothing I could do; just as Jeep got to the near lane of the street he was struck by a car. Jeep managed to jump up, run and hop into my arms, where he later died as my wife drove us to the Veterinarian Hospital. My Wife and I were devastated. In the days to follow, my dad, who could not stand seeing us so upset, got us a puppy, hoping it would fill the void. It is funny how life can in short order put such a seemingly tragic event into perspective; in just a few days that would be the case.

Some of you are now thinking wow; this has gotten way off track. I began his thread as a result of memories rushing back as I realized that after more than thirty years of wondering what to do with the car was coming to a close. These are memories which my closest friends of the past 25 years are not aware. These memories are why I have moved my Z from place to place, storing it for periods of time and half heartedly working on it time and again.

I was busy with a new job and getting the farm house ready was keeping us too busy to think about getting to any of the early autocross events. With the two acres of grass at the farm house my dad found us a used riding mower which needed a little work. Ten days after my 22nd birthday, May 19th, my wife took me to work with the plan of going back to the farm house to paint the kitchen cabinets. She dropped me off in the morning with my bag lunch and was to pick me up at 9 that evening. As in the Star War movies it seems that you should sense when there is a disruption in your life force. But there is not. My wife was late picking me up and when she showed up she was in my mother’s car. She explained that my dad had been dropped off at the farm house by my mother after he got home from work. He was there to work on the riding mower. She heard him drive off in our Z without explanation and had not returned. I immediately got a lump in my throat and knew something was terribly wrong. You see, my dad was mister dependable. When we got home I called the authorities and I was told that a person is not missing until 24 hours had passed and that they could not help me. We spent the night looking and waiting for my dad but he didn’t show. At first light the next morning I returned to the farm house to look around in the light of day. What I saw when driving down the long drive stuck in my heart like a knife. I saw the Z at the end of one of the corn fields in the fence row. I knew then that of all of the possible scenarios which had gone through my mind throughout the night, the worst had been realized. My father had died of a heart attack at the early age of 53.

The site has been down so just a little note to catch up those following this thread.

Purchased a few NOS odds and ends this past week, new headlamp assemblies, license light assembly, rubber for rear bumper, battery frame, gas cap etc… I am getting excited, one week from today I will be loading the car on the trailer and packing the parts in the back of my truck. Will try to post another segment of the Odyssey on my Z this week. I will definitely post some pictures next Saturday of the car on the trailer ready to go to Classic Datsun Motorsports.

Some good news, I got a return haul. I am bringing back a Datsun 1600 Roadster for a collector in Indianapolis. That will help with the expense of getting the car out to Les and it is directly on the way home.

Odyssey, summer of 1975:

The next month or so was a fog. The Z was at the local dealer since the car had been caught by a wire fence, and it needed a complete paint job. While in the body shop, rust was discovered in the rear quarters and needed attention. The body shop was old school and did not replace any metal. They leaded in the rusted areas. The Z was finished in late June. The thought of pursing a national championship seemed trite.

While the car was out the dealership, I had developed a friendship with the parts manager, Everett. I ordered a set of Datsun Comp Mikuni 44's for the Z with thoughts of running in the prepared class in the future. I did return to a club meeting that spring and found that Moriarty's (lime green Z) owner had taken a new job over the winter and moved out west. I would not get the chance to avenge the defeats I had received at his hands. Later in the year I went to a few meets and was able to consistently win, but with Moriarty gone there was no way to measure the accomplishment.

I recall one event in particular; it's the stuff legends within the club are made of. The Corvette Club in the local region asked if our club would set up an event. The event was to be SCCA members VS the Corvette Club members in the autocross format. They were to bring the trophies. Needless to say they didn't stand a chance; they should have challenged us to a drag race. They were so pissed off that they left at the end of the day and took their trophies with them. Our club made up trophies commemorating the event. They were wooden with our place in the event noted, and an AFX 64 th Scale Corvette attached with a chrome screw through the window. I still have mine somewhere. Competition was in my blood; I began looking forward to next summer's challenges, including competing in a prepared class hill climb. To be continued…