April 2005 It was another gray, drippy day in Tokyo, a land infested with power lines, radio towers, and all the scenery-choking flotsam that erupts around such a hastily built megalopolis. Tokyo is, to be blunt, a shitty place to photograph a car. But that's where the car -- a Bozz-tuned EVO VIII -- was, and we were determined to make the best of it. Creativity is the best antidote for these dull conditions, and after finding a bland line of white taxicabs in which to shoot a colorful time-attack WRX, we stumbled upon a small junkyard that we thought artfully juxtaposed the sparkling new EVO. Oh, we were so clever back then.
Like everything else on that island, Japanese junkyards are small. This one was barely the size of a standard suburban American breeding plot, but by stacking the cars precariously high, the proprietor was somehow able to eke out a living selling used parts on some of the most expensive real estate in the world.
On a photoshoot like this, I'm just a caddy, grabbing gear from the camera bag, occasionally suggesting angles or lenses, but generally staying out of the way. As I was shuffling equipment up to Josh's perch on the trunk of a Mitsubishi Galant (which itself happened to be sitting on the roof of a Toyota Chaser), I noticed a familiar shape at the bottom of a particularly scary six-car stack. It was, of course, a B13 Nissan Sunny, the nearly identical twin to our Sentra. It was clearly some kind of mildly deluxe model with two-tone gray paint and some kind of cushy suede interior. But if you squinted enough to ignore the four doors and mentally blended the two shades of gray, you could see a far more aggressive-looking set of bumpers with an integrated front air dam. More importantly, like all Sunny bumpers, they were a few inches shorter than the bulbous U.S. bumpers, giving the lowly Sunny the tight, tidy proportions of a European-market E30 BMW. Or maybe I was just squinting too much.
After a brief negotiation between our Bozz hosts and the proprietor of the yard, arrangements were made to have the bumpers and grille delivered to Bozz, where they would throw them in the next container headed for San Francisco. Total cost: $40.
The U.S. bumper is a heavy-gauge...
The U.S. bumper is a heavy-gauge box section with a thick layer of styrofoam to cushion your ramming. The bumper cover is large enough to encircle the foam and is bolted to the bumper shell with something like 368 rusty 6mm nuts. The Japanese bumper is only a thin-gauge C-channel, and the bumper cover snaps to it without any tools.
A few months later, I stopped by Bozz Performance in Fremont, California, jammed the bumpers into the back of a Mini Cooper S (really) and dragged them 450 miles home where I immediately tossed them in the back of my garage and began the long procrastination process that precedes the painting of any body panel.
August 2005 It was another hungover morning in Acapulco, but instead of sleeping it off as I should have, I sprinted a block through a biblical pre-hurricane downpour, jumped into a borrowed lime-green Peugeot 206 Cabriolet, and headed off across town in search of Acapulco Nissan.
Mexico is a country in love with the B13 Sentra. Known there as the Tsuru, the B13 has been in continuous production in Mexico since 1991. For at least eight of those 14 years, the Tsuru was the best-selling car in Mexico. Taxis are Tsurus, cop cars are Tsurus -- hell, I was even pulled over by three Tsurus the night before after making a left turn on a green light. I don't understand either.
The Tsuru's enduring popularity comes largely from the fact that it hasn't changed substantially in 14 years, making parts and service cheap. One change Nissan Mexico has made, though, is updating the dismal headlights. While all U.S. and early-Mexican B13s had shockingly dim lights with hard-to-upgrade 9004 bulbs, the newer Tsurus have a new Hella-supplied light assembly with a lightweight plastic lens, a more modern reflector, and easily upgraded H4 bulbs. After a week of jealously eyeing every Tsuru on the road (and it's common to see as many as ten in a single glance down a side street), I could no longer resist.
The U.S. framerail has this...
The U.S. framerail has this flange that interferes with the Japanese bumper. Measure carefully, then notch the bumper mounts to clear it.
After failing to find a good junkyard the day before, I resigned myself to dropping serious pesos on new headlights. Since my Spanish is at a Taco Bell level, I spent the 30-minute drive rehearsing my conversation with the parts jockey. "Buenos dias... donde esta... Tsuru... ah... headlights?"
Miraculously, when I stepped into the parts department, my headlights were right there in the display case. I just pointed and smiled. After some additional pointing and grunting to ensure I got both headlights and the separate turn signals, the parts jockey asked me a very important question. Assuming the question was, "So, you're a Tsuru fan too?" I just nodded my agreement. This was clearly the wrong answer, as it caused more words to come from his mouth. My blank stare brought a return to the pointing. Parts jockey grabbed a Tsuru parts catalog, flipped to a front view of the car, and pointed at the grille. Ah! "Non," I said confidently.
Clearly the original question had actually been, "So, hangover boy, looks like you smashed into a taxi? Don't worry, it happens all the time." Refusing the grille clearly eroded my credibility. Jockey eyed me sideways, mumbled something under his breath, and proceeded to add up the total. Obviously, I had either smashed out the lights with a baseball bat, or I had smashed the grille and was planning to leave the taxi only half fixed. After delivering the impossibly large total of 2,619 pesos (about $245), it took three forms of ID to get him to take my shady, headlight-bashing credit card.