1984 (or 1985) Nissan 200SX - She Might As Well Have Been My Mother

 

Funny how we associate old cars with certain people. This 1984 or 1985 Nissan 200SX popped up on Facebook Marketplace and took me back...back...back. Way back. The Facebook ad doesn't specify the year, although seeing that it doesn't have a CHMSL, it's probably safe to say it's not a 1986 or newer car.

If I recall correctly, her name was Suzanne, and she drove a brand-spanking-new, dark-blue, V-6-powered 1987 Nissan 200SX that she drove with the ferocity of the hellion she wanted to be seen as.

This one has the pokey 2.0-liter inline-four.

She was two, three, maybe four years older than me and was a manager working for the food-service company that ran the kitchen in the hospital where I worked part-time through college. She was a big flirt and flirted with me often. I never took any of it seriously; if she was flirting with God-forsaken me, who wouldn't she flirt with?

Besides, again, she was older than me and was, technically, my boss. The way I'm wired, she might as well have been my mother.

In a day and age when sports coupes actually sold well, Nissan's new-for-1984 200SX was a standout. Although lacking the brawn, per se, of a V-8- or even V-6-powered Camaro, Firebird or Mustang, there was a slick sophistication about these cars that the American "ponies" simply didn't have. They were also built to near-Swiss-watch standards and had a reputation for excellent build quality and reliability.

They didn't jiggle, creak, moan, groan or go clank, and they certainly didn't shimmy-shimmy. If the Japanese sports coupes lacked anything, though, it was styling that was somewhat staid, if not bland. These cars were better looking than most of them. They were also a click or two or three more expensive than the domestic triumvirate, but you got what you paid for.

The S12 was Nissan's version of the third-generation Silvia, and it was sold in North America as the 200SX from 1984 through 1988.

1984 was when Nissan was finally completing its transition away from the Datsun nameplate in North America. The 200SX was one of the transition cars, with early 1984 examples still carrying Datsun badging and later ones carrying Nissan badging. By 1985, the U.S.-market cars were Nissan-badged.

The 200SX name goes back quite a way here. The S10 Silvia was sold here as the Datsun 200SX from 1976 to 1979. Not surprisingly, given that it looks like a set piece from a Godzilla movie, it didn't sell particularly well here.

From 1980 to 1983, the S110 Silvia was sold here as the Datsun 200SX, a far comelier design that sold considerably better.

The S12's successor was badged as the Nissan 240SX and was sold here from 1989 through 1998. Note to self: Blog in the very near future about one of those beauties, especially a 1989 or 1990 notchback coupe.

Contemporary reviews of our Facebook Marketplace find here were mostly positive. They were noted for their fine ride, excellent handling and exceptional build quality. They were dinged, though, for their annoying voice-warning system: "Lights are on... lights are on. Fuel level is low... fuel level is low..." and so on.

The 102-horsepower, 2.0-liter four-cylinder, while fuel-efficient, didn't provide the kind of go its terrific styling would imply. There was also a 1.8-liter, 120-horsepower turbocharged four that upped the ante considerably, especially when paired with the slick-shifting five-speed. The turbo was offered in the fastback version of the 200SX.

Nissan's 160-horsepower, 3.0-liter V-6 became available for 1987 and 1988, and it was a game changer. Curiously, the V-6 was never available in the 240SX.

Our plain-Jane '84 or '85 here hasn't been on the road since the mid-1990s. The ad claims the interior is nice, which it is, and, ahem, "the rot's not too bad." It does have a five-speed, and the asking price is just $500.

I left that job slinging hash and cleaning grease chutes at the hospital shortly after I graduated from college in 1986. I never saw Suzanne again.

I've never forgotten her car, though.

1970 Cadillac Eldorado - Baby Blue

Shame the Corinthian Blue paint on this 1970 Cadillac Eldorado is as worn down as it is, having spent its 56 years getting pounded by the weather up here on the coast of Lake Erie. It's peeling in places, too. The fact that this needs a new paint job is one of the reasons the asking price is just $6,000.

There are rust bubbles under the vinyl roof, too. This needs to come off completely, of course, and the body underneath it repaired properly. This, along with the paint job, could easily run $15,000. No sense in cheaping out, either; the rust will just come back. Whether you replace the vinyl top or not—I wouldn't—is up to you.

What's most disconcerting are the rusting, more like disintegrating, rear structural mounting areas. This is where things get interesting with the Eldorado's unusual construction. The 1967–1970 Eldorado used a semi-unitized body shell with a long subframe carrying the powertrain and front suspension. That subframe extended rearward to roughly the area of the forward rear-leaf-spring mounts. It wasn't a conventional full-length frame like you'd find under a traditional body-on-frame Cadillac.

Can this even be fixed? Good question. I'm sure some hack with a blowtorch would be willing to give it a shot. The proper repair would mean cutting out the rotten metal and replacing it with properly fabricated structural sections. Finding replacement structural pieces could be another matter entirely. You also have to be concerned about the rust having spread into the surrounding body structure as well.

This would be what would make me walk from the deal. Where there's smoke, there's fire, as they say, and where there's rust, there's more rust. When structural mounting areas are compromised this badly, there's bound to be other places where it's soft.

Cadillac first came out with an Eldorado in 1953 to commemorate its 50th anniversary; the name actually originated with a 1952 Golden Anniversary show car. In 1951, Cadillac's advertising agency held an internal "name-that-car" contest, and a secretary in Cadillac's merchandising department, Mary Ann Zukosky, came up with "El Dorado." She didn't get a new Cadillac Eldorado, but she did receive a $25 U.S. Defense Bond.

The Eldorado went through myriad changes over the next decade or so, at times devolving into little more than a fancified deVille convertible. That changed in 1967 when Cadillac introduced this front-wheel-drive Eldorado, which shared little structurally with what it replaced.

These were Cadillac's first front-wheel-drive production cars, but unlike the front-drivers it came out with in the 1980s, the engine wasn't transversely mounted. It was mounted longitudinally, like the engines in rear-wheel-drive cars.

That meant the engine's output had to be redirected from the rear of the engine to the front-wheel-drive transmission. That was accomplished through a specialized "split" transmission and transaxle arrangement using a two-inch-wide "Hy-Vo" chain.

The engineering was remarkably sound, and torque steer was well controlled despite these cars being powered by some of the largest engines ever installed in a passenger car. The 1967 Eldorado was powered by Cadillac's 429-cubic-inch V-8, which had debuted in 1964. That engine was itself an evolution of the 390-cubic-inch V-8 introduced for 1963.

For 1968, Cadillac introduced its clean-sheet 472-cubic-inch engine. For 1970, the 472's basic architecture was enlarged to 500 cubic inches, but the 500 was exclusive to the Eldorado that year. Hence, this Marketplace gem here has the 500, which for 1970 was rated at 400 SAE gross horsepower and 550 lb-ft of torque.

Hard to determine exactly what that 400 gross horsepower would be in net horsepower. There isn't a simple formula for converting one to the other, since SAE gross and net horsepower were measured under different conditions. Suffice it to say that the net figure would have been substantially lower. Using my crazy "Charley Math", I wouldn't be surprised if this engine netted roughly 250-horsepower. Your opinion may vary. See dealer for details.

Contemporary road tests of the 1967–1970 Eldorado were generally pretty benign. They noted that the cars rode just like any other luxury car of the day. Other than the lack of a driveshaft hump, there was little indication from behind the wheel that the car was front-wheel-drive.

Surveys of Eldorado buyers found that the vast majority didn't buy the car because it was front-wheel-drive; they bought it because they liked its styling. I get that. These cars are really special. The clownish parade floats that replaced them from 1971 to 1976? Not so much, as I see it through my foggy goggles.

So, what happens to baby blue here? Good question. Perhaps the seller will grow desperate and let it go for a fraction of the asking price. $6,000 is still $6,000, although it seems five- and six-grand is like two grand from 20 or 25 years ago.

I just hope someone doesn't pay anywhere near the asking price and then find out they've been had. That's why it's always best to get the car in the air and have it checked out from top to bottom before purchasing. If the seller refuses to let you do that, well, they're telling you, in not so many words, everything you need to know about the car.

1992 Pontiac Grand Prix Richard Petty Edition - The King and I

Richard Petty had an amazing career. Between 1958 and 1992, he won seven Cup Series titles, a record he shares with Dale Earnhardt Sr. and Jimmie Johnson. He won the Daytona 500 seven times, more than any other driver, and in 1967 alone, he won 27 races, including 10 in a row at one point.

While I'm probably the least car-racing-savvy car nerd on the planet, I do tip my ball cap to the man and his accomplishments, and he's still going strong at 89 years young.

I met him in Nashville back in 2011 when he was part of the CMA Awards interview circuit; I don't remember why he was there, though. I found him friendly and approachable, although, again, knowing next to nothing about racing, I was left fumbling for stuff to talk to him about. I did know that he had switched to Pontiacs for the 1981 season, though. He was best known for his use of Plymouths and Dodges earlier in his career, but he spent the final 12 years of his driving career with Pontiac.

While Chrysler had all but gotten out of racing by the early '80s, he said to me, rather unceremoniously as well, that Chrysler had been giving him awful cars for years before they threw in the towel altogether. Not sure if one thing had anything to do with the other, but that's what he said.

Nonetheless, his time with Pontiac lasted until he retired, and he finished his career driving Pontiac Grand Prix'. In fact, he scored his 200th and final Cup victory in a Pontiac Grand Prix in 1984.

Hence, in 1992, the year of his retirement, Pontiac honored him with 1,000 limited-edition Grand Prix coupes bearing his name.

This one here is one of them, although, dang it, I wasn't able to find out where in the production run it landed. The tag on the door here notes that it was built in "5/92," but that doesn't tell us where it falls in the numbered 1,000-car production run.

Hagerty Insurance is auctioning this one off. Last I checked, the top bid was around $12,500; the reserve had not been met. Seems like all the money in the world for a W-body Grand Prix, even one with just 22,000 miles or so on its analog ticker. What drives its value, of course, is that it's a Richard Petty Edition and one that's in excellent condition.

For a modest $399 surcharge, buyers who opted for one of these got a Grand Prix SE with the Richard Petty package, including the FE3 sport suspension and Y99 handling package, automatic transmission, a five-speed manual option, a Richard Petty-inspired STP paint job, Richard Petty Edition badging, unique and quite handsome 16x8 cast-aluminum wheels and 225/60R16 tires. Only 75 of the 1,000 cars were equipped with the five-speed, so those are particularly scarce.

He even signed the glove box on this one, although they didn't come from the factory signed by The King.

Lastly, and leastly in my opinion, the Richard Petty Grand Prix had General Motors' 3.4-liter DOHC, 24-valve V-6, an engine I've discussed and lamented here before.

General Motors' cost-effective answer to the sweet-revving Yamaha-built 3.0- and 3.2-liter V-6s of Ford Taurus SHO fame, what was called the "Twin Dual Cam V-6," was derived from GM's 60-degree V-6 architecture. The LQ1 used four valves per cylinder and four overhead camshafts. Voilà, an SHO fighter. Well, sort of.

Problem was, this engine still felt like a 2.8 at heart. It was noisy and sluggish down low, and you had to rev the thing hard to get any real go out of it; good luck doing that with an automatic. Best (worst) of all, it was fussy, complicated and hard to work on because the wide, tall engine barely fit in the engine bay of these cars.

GM eventually phased it out, replacing it with the engine I wish they had put in these cars in the first place: the 3800 V-6. The 3800 eventually became available in the Grand Prix beginning with the next-generation car in 1997.

I'm the rare fan of these W-body coupes—the Chevrolet Lumina, Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme and Buick Regal, too—although I must say, the best way to have one of these is to have one that's loaded. A Richard Petty Edition notwithstanding.

This one, curiously, has a cloth interior and does not appear to have power-adjustable seats. At least it doesn't have the bladder bolsters Grand Prix SEs were famous—or infamous—for, which never seemed to work over the long haul.

Have to wonder if Mr. Petty ever had one of these cars that were a tribute to him. Long live The King! And "his car" too.