A quick high-beam flash, a raised peace sign, a grin and a thumbs-up. While not exactly a secret handshake, only a few are permitted these mutual greetings and admittance is definitely exclusive. But those who are 'in' recognize each other instantly and share a bond that bypasses all other barriers. These are the signals of the automotive supreme. Some are the quickest, some roll with the best style and some mix it all together, but everyone breathes gasoline.
Kurt Ikerd first joined the automotive supreme in the '80s. Working as sales manager at a used car dealership in Hayward, California, it was love at first sight when the long, elegant hood and shapely hatch of a 1973 Datsun 240Z came in as a trade deal. A test drive was hardly needed before Ikerd scooped up the well-maintained ride as his own.
The new chariot was perfect. It was fast, rode well, looked good, and even had space in the back for his tools. The car exceeded his every expectation for a daily driver and, for over a year, Ikerd basked in Z glory. But a collision on Interstate 280 crumpled the rear end of his baby, forcing Ikerd into automotive anonymity with a Chevy S10 pickup. The insurance payout could do nothing for the Z's chassis, so the car was scrapped.
Fast forward a decade. Tired of pushing the old truck around, Ikerd went out hunting for another car that could spark his passion in a similar manner to his old Z. The new mainstream import culture was raving about Subarus and Mitsubishis, but the giant-winged, four-door sedans didn't quite do it. Ikerd wanted something more his style: something classic, timeless. Then, on the way to work, he spotted a fire-red Datsun Z going in the opposite direction. He pulled a U-turn and gave chase, eventually reaching the object of his envy in a parking lot. As he gave the shiny Datsun a thorough inspection, Ikerd realized then that it was Z or nothing.
He also knew that not any Z would suffice. After searching for the right match, Ikerd ended up walking wide-eyed into Z Car Garage in San Jose, California, where he met certified Z car guru Rob Fuller, who directed him toward this particular 1971 240Z. It was in a state of aesthetic apathy, but everything was solid mechanically (and modified to boot). The suspension was brand new, sporting Tokico shocks and Eibach springs with Suspension Techniques anti-roll bars (one inch up front and 0.75 in the back). These pieces, along with an R180 limited-slip differential and 4.11:1 final drive ratio, made the car perfectly smooth and predictable, but comfortable enough for the whole family.
Under the extended hood were freshly built pieces swapped in from a 280Z. A five-speed manual transmission sits connected to a thumping L28 inline six engine, increased in displacement to 3.1 liters thanks to a stroker crankshaft with the proper supporting rods and pistons. Additional improvements include upgraded ignition components, camshafts, a Triple Mikuni 44 PHH carb and a Cannon intake manifold. Making the siren call of the straight six enjoyably audible is a Clifford six-into-two header that feeds a 2.25-inch exhaust and a Magnaflow muffler.
In stark contrast to the speed, ride and sound, the exterior and interior were both lacking. Ikerd, however, wanted to wait for the ideal time to venture into the world of paint and upholstery. It had to be done right, meaning a lot of time and money would be spent. But the opportunity soon presented itself when a minor shunt expedited the need for a body shop visit. Fuller was once again called upon to coordinate the efforts.