Let us devote to unselfishness the frenzy we once gave gold and underpants- Kurt Vonnegut

Ive had this love affair with my Datsun since the day I laid eyes on her. You know that special kind of car love. That “I can’t sell you because i’m going to cry” kind of love. That “I won’t let my kid drive you” kind of love. That, “I’ll move you around and spend a ton of money storing you and then eventually go broke trying to put you back together”, kind of love. You know- THAT kind of love.

I mean, come on- if you have half a heart and have had the same car for the last decade of your life or more- you know theres some emotion there. Wether its the car you drove your newborn baby home from the hospital in, the car you had your first date or kiss in, the car your dad- or in my case, my brother, taught you how to drive while absolutely killing his clutch, or my favorite the car that me and my dad built. Cars become a part of your life- dependable, until they’re not. Selling them can either be that thing you just did to get rid of a lemon or just to make some quick cash- but for those of us that love our cars, well- they become part of the family.

I bought my 280 in 2007 for 2000 dollars and she was my daily driver for a bit- breaking down every 100 miles or so, but she taught me a lot, not just about how to get to a meeting and not looked like you just left a sauna in all my clothes (because my car had no AC in 1000 degree Florida weather) but that I am capable of fixing anything.

2009 rolled around and I found myself leaving behind the Florida lifestyle for the Ne York City bright lights and a new Honda. Leaving my 280 in my sisters backyard (jungle, backyard- same difference in this instance) for the next EIGHT YEARS.

My 280 waited patiently even though I was off living my life in the big city. Even with another car- I couldn’t bear the thought of selling her. While she sat there, she was shelter for countless families of squirrels, mice, birds, spiders and even a raccoon- I think. Shrubbery grew around her and caused even more rust but she was there- waiting, engine flooded, tires flat, wires chewed through, dash cracked and sad. So finally I moved her into a garage in 2017, I thought for a brief moment I would sell her but it made me sad to write the ad that I finally convinced myself to pull the trigger and get her running again.

The following posts will be a story about Lucille, the 1977 Datsun 280z and the 1972 Datsun 240z, lets call him BG.

The journey of the dual restoration! Join the Fren-Z and check back for more updates!

thanks for reading


michele matamoros