In some ways, 1970 seems like such a short time ago. I still vividly remember the uproar from Camaro traditionalists when the bug-eyed '70 model first appeared in the pages of Motor Trend. "Ugh-they've ruined the car," was the general response, most often accompanied by a spit onto the ground for dramatic effect. Never mind that this Italianesque shape was to become one of the most gorgeous Camaro forms of all time; as far as my sixth-grade buddies and I were concerned, Chevrolet had blown it, big time. Musclecars were supposed to be stocky, square-of-jaw, and festooned with as manly a combination of hood scoops, cubic-inch advertisements, and air-grabbing spoilers as possible. By comparison, the gracefully silhouetted, devoid-of-decal-work Camaro Z/28 looked like a wimp.
But all was not gloom and doom in the '70 model year, 'cause that was the season Datsun introduced its own Z-car. Styled much like a 71/48-scale Jaguar XKE, this mouth-watering two-seater delivered Euro-style sports-car punch at the bargain price of $3526 (about $2500 less than a base model Corvette.) Overnight, our nation of sleepy Datsun dealers found themselves overrun by thundering hordes of sports-car nuts. The 240Z did for Datsun what the '64 Mustang did for Ford-create an image of youthful, lustful performance.
To my clan of car-mad pals, the 240Z was way-cool. It didn't pretend to compete with such worshiped street-racing icons as Hemi Chargers, Ram Air GTOs, or the Chevelle SS454. Instead, the 240Z was a lithe, nimble corner-carver, powered by a 2.4-liter/151-horsepower SOHC inline-six that revved to 7000 rpm and sounded like a mini Grand Prix racer. Never mind that with its 0-60-mph time of 9.4 seconds, this 2325-pound sports car was no quicker than a contemporary Cadillac Sedan de Ville; I wanted one of 'em so badly my teeth hurt.
However, as with my many previous (and wholly unsuccessful) machinations to secure a Corvette 427, Shelby GT500, or similar muscle machine for the family garage, poor old dad bore the brunt of my Z-car infatuation. He was familiar with the game plan: the pleading, the cajoling, the incessant pestering to just, pleeeze, let's go to the car dealer and test-drive one. Despite my best sales-spiel filibusters of Dad-logic (it's economical, easy to park-I'll give you all the money in my savings account), he relented only enough to let me sit in one and collect the sales brochures. It was hell being twelve.
With the Z-car celebrating its 25th anniversary this year, I felt it was about time to fulfill that boyhood dream. Thanks to MT reader Dick Berry (whose company, Berry Plastics, manufactured hardtops for the original Cobra, as well as bodies for Roger Penske's Can Am racers), a recent afternoon was spent behind the wheel of his pristine '70 240Z, wailing the twin SU-carbureted six up through Coldwater Canyon, across Mulholland Highway, and back again. Yes, the stiff throttle linkage and sudden clutch takeup require a bit of getting used to. Sure, the four-speed shifter is kinda vague. Okay, so the handling transits from goodly amounts of push to sudden oversteer if the throttle's lifted in a corner-I can deal with all this. The tight, purposeful cockpit, the intoxicating engine sound, and that mouth-watering shape coalesces into a package that fulfills everything a vintage sports car should be. Now I realize I should've lobbied Dad a bit harder.