#OldDatsun

We lived in Los Gatos from 1987 to 1993. It was already becoming a high-priced enclave for Silicon Valley high fliers then, and now it’s utterly transformed. The Ford, Chevy and even the Honda dealers are now all shuttered, but the RR, Ferrari, Aston Martin, Lamborghini and Bentley dealers are flourishing. Disneyland-esque mansions the size of hotels have replaced little ranchers. Driving back into to town after a wonderful hike in the hills with friends, I saw the ultimate extremes: a brand-new “reproduction” full-sized water-wheel “mill” on a dry, scrubby hillside, “turning” slowly while the pump-fed recirculating “stream” spilled from its “sluice” to “power” it. This thing was the size of a two or three-story house; a “lawn ornament” of grandiose proportions straight out of a theme park. Ok; I don’t have any problems with folks having lots of money; but do they have to spend it in such grotesque ways? But just a block away from our old house I found the perfect antidote to my nouveau riche nausea: a 1977 Datsun 810.

Today’s Bobcat CC tends to reinforce the image of Eugene as an insane asylum refuge for the disaffected, eccentric, permanently drugged, but artistic and creative goof-balls of the world. Well, that’s largely true, and it sure keeps things interesting. But the reality is that there are two Eugenes: south of the river and north of of it. That’s a slight over-simplification, but you get the picture, here: just imagine that the yellow line between the Charger SRT and the Datsun 710 is the Willamette. But there are circumstances that cause the two sides to intermingle, like this little parking lot behind an accountant’s office. Guess whose car is the accountant’s and whose is his patchouli-oil scented assistant’s? Another perspective to assist your efforts after the jump.