My name is Loki,
I am a young female jdm enthusiast in the Brisbane area, and i believe in the spirit of the Devil Z ^_^
Haha, hear me out, im not religious, there is method behind my madness and quite a cool little story to follow if you care to keep reading.
Initially, my impressions of the Zeds, were they were a past era of super cool, old school, jap classics people these days liked to keep as garage ornaments and polish every sunday.
But as time went on, i grew fascinated with a car i once considered outdated.
I started rejecting the western cultured way of thinking and dads bogan ford vs holden, big V8 thinks all jap is rice rambling bullshit over the years.
Against his wanting his daughter to be into big block dragsters and v8 supercars, i took much delight in finding my way around the engine bays of my jap cars and teaching him new things as i got more into modifying, building and drifting.
I got him interested enough in my cars to watch the entire series of Initial D, until he understood how i felt about my cars
I did have to cop a few rounds of Bathurst in return
It was about then sometime i started seeing the beauty in the Zeds.
After wanting to understand the hype, i finally delved into the japanese history of the S30's, the Akio Asakura manga story, the maxitune rivalry against the Blackbird, and eventually the Wangan Midnight movie.
I fell hard for the Devil Z, redrew my loan a week later and went on a determined hunt to find my own devil.
A few weeks later, i saw a listing of a clean looking, unmolested, factory 260Z.
Although it wasnt a wangan-tax 240z, it was a 2+2 260z, the extra foot of wheel span i decided was for the better.
So heading out to inspect one evening, I found it in the hands of a 60year old little old lady living in a misty valley in the middle of nowhere.
It was almost like a creepy fairytale.
I was waiting at the bottom of her farm on the road beneath a single streetlight.
I can remember every detail.
I could hear it before i saw it.
The sun had just set over the gully and these two yellow headlights came creeping down this womans winding rainforest of a driveway.
I just watched, i think i was smiling, finally it pulled up under the streetlight and a light drizzle of rain started falling.
This tiny framed 4"8" little shawl wrapped lady got out to shake my hand, then talked me through the history of the car and her love of Datsuns.
She had owned Zeds since the first 240z's donned the road, a veteran Z enthusiast, she'd bought every series and kept them tidy and serviced every year, however her collection had dwindled with her health and she had regretfully listed her last cobalt blue 260 as she was getting too fraile to drive it.
Doing a run through of the car i found the steering was stupid heavy, the wiring was rusting away & the interior was a bright brown.
It had its original old leather woven wheel, and all the dully lit green gauges still worked.
A dash matt was hiding the many spiderwebbed cracks beneath it and at some stage it had copped an amateur respray a few years ago from a bronze to the blue.
Rust bubbles were beginning to lift the paint in areas and the moisture from such a wet climate had begun to eat into the sils, floorpans, bottom of the doors, and front guards.
At some point though she had her mechanic replace the hubs, brakes, rotors, springs, replaced the 260's carbies with a pair off one of her 240s, and new fuel tank and exhaust system.
She gave me 20 years worth of reciepts.
Standing next to it after negotiating a price and seeing her off was like getting slapped in the face by sheer character.
This old rusty Zed has some unexplainable presence about it.
I still cant really explain it any better than saying it had a soul.
I was mesmerised by its steady rumble and rich carbie gurgling. It was like it was going off rambling at the old lady for finally abandoning it and leaving it with me, some young ass,efi running, boost loving, clueless drifter chick.
It took a while getting used to the instant responsiveness of carbies, and an auto box. Yes it was auto, something i swore id never drive, but it was only temporary.
I was smiling ear to ear all the way home.
Over the next few months, the Zed was on daily duties for work and every weekend id be in the garage tinkering with something, slowly replacing all the disintegrating bits, and giving ti an extensive service.
Not too long down the track i started having issues with the tuning.
The old lady only ever ran 91, and e10 in it and i was drowning it in 98 for the first time in its life.
I was unsure if i had to run lead substitute being such an old car, seriously had no fucking idea.
Oneday of the needles in the carbies began to stick and i had to work out how to fix them.
Soon after, the coil and resistor died, then the dizzy and points, it ran too rich and shat burnt fuel like a diesel..
I got frustrated not knowing enough and i think i spent a good two hours one afternoon really pissing my neighbours off tuning it as best i could by ear.
It was one thing after another for a solid month..
It was a few days later when i got it running right again that the Devil got its name and ironically tried to kill its owner.
Im not kidding, i ended up in a guard rail at roughly 100km.
It'd hit an oil patch on a bend and spun out of control down the road.
Being so long in the nose, auto and no power i wasnt ready for it to let go and had little control over it.
I managed to gain enough control of it at the split second to loop it nose first into the rail eliminating the potential of flipping it and to reduce as much damage from the impact as possible.
I wasnt shaken, id been in enough crashes to know what to expect.
But the second it happened i was so bloody angry.
It was 3am, bloody freezing, i was in the middle of no-where with no signal and as much as i looked i couldnt find the oil patch to prove what had happened.
At this point, all i cared about was getting the Zed home safe, screw me, screw revenue raisers in blue, and screw the stupid guard rail.
I kicked the buckle out a bit and straightened up the support pole digging it back into the ground, by the time i was done it looked like nothing had happened.
We have all been in some form of situation out of our control at some point in our lives.
This is the stuff that truly teaches us lessons in life, defines us and affords us experiences we would never otherwise have the capabilities of overcoming, and i dont regret it for a second.
Back to the Devil, although mangled had pulled itself out of the rail fine.
I bent the guards off my wheels with my jack bar and made sure it was all cosmetic.
Hitting dead on had prevented damage to my tie rods, ams, wheels and the majority of the car.
I had a bottle of stop leak conveniently in the back and the impact had punched the fan into the rad, so i dumped a bottle in laughing at it with another few bottles of water in the back and somehow made it home without the temps climbing.
Over the next month it sat in my garage, alone and angry at me.
I couldnt stand to look at it either, i was still angry at it too.
We had a good months silence between us until one night i came in hugging it and telling it i was sorry, even though it had tried to kill me.
It had a mind of its own and a temperamental and stubborn nature.
Despite being a 260, or a 2+2, to me, my car was no longer a Zed, it became the living soul of the Devil Z, always trying to kill its owner.
And it pretty much played out from there true to the wangan story.
For a week, day and night, i spent locked in the garage or going around sourcing parts until it was finally whole again.
Back into a driveable state, it was a month or so later back on daily duties that i was driving to work early in the morning.
Some idiot little p plater in a subaru decided to show off beside me, being a complete tool, ignoring him resulted in him attempting to cut me off and stopping infront of me, then boosting and trying to run me off the road.
It was too early in the morning for the kids bullshit so i played granny spec and slowed enough for him to dart off infront of me and speed down a suburb.
A short while later, i caught back up to the kid, he was stopped waiting to turn behind a large electrical utilities truck of which was turning into an industrial road.
It was two lane on a bend with a telegraph pole on the apex. Being a 60 zone i dropped to 50 watching this dickhead as i went to pass around them.
It was cold and wet that morning, i remember turning the Devil on and listening to it happily gurgle down the cool air.
And you guessed right, subiboy waited until i was less than a cars length from the back of his car, then deliberately, with no indicator, pull out infront of me blocking the 2nd lane between the truck and pole like a barricade hoping id hit him.
As you guys know, stock brakes on Zeds dont do much in the wet.
I peppered the brake as i would understeering on a slippery track and got enough traction to throw the steering.
Things ran through my head a million miles a second, i didnt want to give this complete arsehole the satisfaction of paying his insurance but i was more importantly dreading the Devil getting hurt again.
Determined, i got off the brake again and reefed the car between the gap of the electical truck and the subi arse.
Unfortunately, the Devil didnt get out unscathed.
The tray of this truck was eye height, it scarred along the front guard, smashed into the A pillar, missed my face by 10cm as my window was down, then cut into the rear quarter like a tigers claw.
Once again the Devil had tried to kill me, but in a way it also saved me.
These have got to be one of the toughest strongest steel built cars i have ever known.
So, i bounced off the tray and Mr P plater had realised as far as he was aware he just killed someone via decapacitation, so what does he do?
He flees as fast as he can.
The Zed at this point had just bounced off the tray and im raging over the shattered windscreen shards decorating my interior..
best course of action..
..no way in fuck i was going to let the little criminal get away.
The kid had darted down a street i knew well, so i gave chase in the Zed.
He was trying to lose me but i caught up to catch a glimpse of his face, his clothing and his number plate.
Suddenly then of all times, the Devil started heating up and steam came over the bonnet.
It had lost its water and the engine had punched a hole in the rad from the sudden weight transfer on impact.
i got to work that morning so angry and sad, it was all followed up appropriately but they never found the dude and refused to give me his details despite the plate, positive id and matching clothing of the guy, under the pretence that
i had fled the scene of the crime and that "I was in the wrong" because he didnt get hit, even though he had hit and ran.
Too often they turn the victim into the accused purely for convenience, there is no longer justice within the system, this is exactly why i do not and never will support government revenue raisers.
Ultimately, the only person to lose in this situation was me and the Devil Z.
I paid the trucks damages, and the subi kid got away scot free.
I was heartbroken and hating life for the next few months until i sat in my driveway one night staring at the Devil recounting its fate in my hands.
Everything it had been through, it fought through and endured, it had not once given up on me and it was still running, not as happy as it had been but everytime i turned that key it turned over.
I figured if it could feel, it'd be just as depressed as i was.
We were sitting in that driveway staring each other down.
Then i realised.
It truly inspired me.
No matter how much went wrong, we were still here.
The Devil hasnt given up, so i wont either.
I saved up every dollar i had and repaired it by hand then sprayed it matt black, leaving it bearing its scars proudly.
This is the curse of a real Devil Z...
...And now you know my story.
Thank you for reading.