Nissans Old and New: Driving Yesterday’s 240Z, 720 Pickup, and Old Patrol on Today’s Roads
Nissan let us drive some of its greatest hits.
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Taking a stroll backwards in time, getting a hit of that nostalgia dopamine—that's the best. It’s why we watch old movies, listen to old music, and drive old cars. Reminiscing is fun, especially as a way to contextualize where something’s been versus where it is now.
Every automaker has a heritage collection exactly for this purpose. But rather than let those cars sit, (largely) undriven, in a dusty museum somewhere, Nissan invited us to take out a few of its greatest hits. The cars have been lovingly maintained but are by no means perfect: They come from private owners, get transported around for display purposes, and are driven. So, how do a 1980 Datsun 720, 1973 Datsun 240Z, 1990 Nissan Pathfinder, and 1967 Nissan Patrol hold up today?
1980 Datsun 720
Much like today, there was a lack of small and narrow but capable pickup trucks in the late ’70s and 1980s. The Trucklet craze hit the market, hard, with Volkswagen, Plymouth, Mazda, Chevy, and Toyota responding in kind. The Datsun 720 was Nissan’s player for this game; the white example trotted out for our story is designated “Job 1” in reference to it being Nissan’s very first North American–built vehicle at its Smyrna Assembly Plant in June of 1983.
Configuration made the 720 king, a luxury echoed in today’s Nissan Frontier, which is available in more body styles and bed lengths than most of its competitors. The 720 came in either two-wheel drive or four-wheel drive, but also as short bed, long bed, and extended King Cab models. The latter configuration was new to pickups at the time.
Job 1 was built early enough that it has both Datsun and Nissan badging, though combined with its patriotic red detailing and blueberry interior, it’s beyond obvious who the appeal was for. A Nissan heritage rep said Job 1 was built as the basest base model, so it’s the most honest iteration of the truck, all the way down to its lack of wing mirrors. Power comes from a 2.4-liter inline-four, delivering a claimed 103 hp and 104 lb-ft of torque via an automatic transmission.
You know when you meet someone and you immediately like them? This was me and this truck. I put it in drive, nosed out of the parking lot, and fell in love.
The wide and expansive windshield provides a wholly unimpeded view of the world ahead—so rare with any vehicle today, let alone a pickup. Charm immediately wins you over, exploding from the truck’s narrow footprint, massive bed compared to its cozy cabin, low ride height, and big but skinny buslike steering wheel. Rest your arm across the blue vinyl bench seat backs, and discover a position so natural, it’s like it was made for that. Turn signal actuation is a satisfying ka-chunk.
So back to basics is this truck that its slowness doesn’t really matter. You’ll get there when you get there. It struggles a touch up hills, but the transmission, kicking down gears when it needs to, performs the task imperceptibly. Coasting downhill, the 720 rides its own momentum well and displays agreeable body control. Steering remains light across all speeds, which was surprising—we expected it to be heavier, seeing as it is a truck.
There’s not much in the way of NVH: While it’s not engine drone, it is the hum of the tires and rush of the wind over the body that wash into the cabin. Similarly, the suspension doesn’t mitigate road jounce very well, but it does provide an overall comfortable, trucky ride.
You won’t care. I certainly didn’t. As far as I was concerned, this was an ideal truck, and it must be protected at all costs. Where did we go so wrong as a nation that these aren’t a thing anymore?
From the 720’s lineage (sorta) comes the current-generation Nissan Frontier. The squared-off, retro face isn’t the only throwback thing about it, though. With a hydraulically assisted steering setup, the Frontier’s steering is resultingly heavy. Good if you like that but bad if you want an up-to-date pickup.
1990 Nissan Pathfinder
Red cars were huge in the ’80s, and whoever spec’d this 1990 Pathfinder clearly got the memo. You can tell it’s a first-gen because it’s one of the rare and highly coveted two-door versions. (No two-door Pathfinder was offered after this one.) With the three tangram-shaped side windows and a lovely stripe running above its big, chunky tires, the Pathfinder oozes charisma. And that’s before you even poke your head inside, where a fever dream of burgundy velour awaits. Despite being a two-door, the Pathfinder’s rear seat and trunk are surprisingly roomy. Taking the kids the school, at least while they’re young, wouldn’t have been a problem here.
As a body-on-frame SUV with Hardbody truck-based styling and mechanicals, the Pathfinder arrived to satisfy those buyers pining for an off-roader that could also bring comfortable manners to the pavement. First-gens were offered with either a four-cylinder or 3.0-liter V-6, the latter of which the review car has. There’s a five-speed manual and 153 hp and 180 lb-ft of torque.
Getting out of the petite 720 and into the Pathfinder, it’s striking how tall it stands, even by today’s standards. And whereas things were only moderately loose in the pickup, they’re fairly loose here. The clutch engages progressively, though its catch point is higher off the floor. There’s play in the long-throw shift lever and play in the steering wheel and vagueness in the steering feedback. Things feel casual and precision-averse, lending to a relaxed beach-cruiser vibe.
But with its smooth power and commanding road presence, the old Pathfinder feels like it can go anywhere. Despite the ride also being on the looser side due to its tall, all-terrain tires, there’s a stompy, no-effs-given attitude with how it approaches the road. Shakes and bumps do enter the cabin (though this might just be due to the vehicle’s age), and there’s plenty of lean in the suspension when you take a turn. Still, the aura of invincibility is there, like the rig can take a beating with a smile on its face.
Today’s Nissan Pathfinder trades body-on-frame construction for unibody bones, and tough-mud adventuring for mall crawling. But it does its job well, humbly serving families with comfort, good power, an upscale interior, and easy third-row access. (For more old-school Pathfinder vibes, check out our Rewind Review of a 1986 Pathfinder SE-V6.)
1973 Datsun 240Z
As a lightweight and chuckable sports car girlie, a 240Z appeals to me the same way Triumph TR6s and SA-gen Mazda RX-7s do. Plus, it’s so gosh-darn pretty and proportionately perfect—an iconic silhouette.
Arguably the first mass-market Japanese sports car, this silver example is one of 36 that were restored under an official restoration program in 1996. So, it’s not as from-the-factory as the 720, but with about 800 new factory parts, it’s pretty damn close. Weighing in at about 2,400 pounds, the 240Z makes 150 hp and 148 lb-ft of torque from a 2.4-liter straight-six, with shifting handled by a four-speed manual. As an aftermarket darling, it’s rather rare to find a 240Z that hasn’t been modified to hell, so this experience was extra special.
Lower yourself into the thin seat, take in the upright dashboard with its three-gauge crown, the skinny wooden steering wheel practically in your lap, and you’d think this was something Italian. It’s anything but, though. Turn the key, and the Z rumbles to life, buzzy with anticipation.
Clutch engagement is amicable and low to the floor, while first and second gears on the H-pad are easy to find, the wooden shift lever cool in the hand. Third is trickiest to place, as it’s right next to first. Too much caution can result in a mistaken downshift; too much confidence will have you hunting around for a nonexistent fifth in a sea of nothing. This was pointed out by a heritage collection rep, and I had a moment of happy reflection: When was the last time you got into someone else’s car that had a quirk that needed to be explained to you?
There’s really no beating the silkiness of a straight-six as you watch the needle sweep up the tach, speed building beneath the wheels, the engine’s raspy note keeping pace. Although 150 hp is all you get, when you’re riding so low to the ground and weigh as much as a spitball, it hardly matters. This is the embodiment of Slow Car Fast. The steering has some play off-center but hooks up accurately when taking a corner. Visibility around the thin A-pillars is unparalleled. And the brakes? They could have come from a modern car with how progressive they feel: sensitive to inputs and with plenty of pedal bite.
Actually, nearly everything about the 240Z feels shockingly modern. The only aspect that showed the car’s true age was the suspension. Creaky over bumps, a lot of the road’s imperfections jar the cabin. It’s a fairly rattly experience.
But we can justify that away, too. Like driving any old, analog sports car, you feel like you’re doing something. An intimate connection exists between you, the car, and the road. Pushing in the clutch is to pull a cable, and each pothole avoided is to spare both you and the car discomfort. The Z’s eager revviness makes it the best kind of dance partner.
It’s a great thing, then, that the Nissan Z still exists, its old tech be damned. Nissan fittingly kicked us an orange Z Heritage Edition to bookend the experience. Obviously, it’s much bigger and heavier. But as a successor to the throne, it’s a good one. It’s still a relatively affordable performance car, and all the design cues are there. Although the light-footed and spritely nature of the original 240Z is gone, today’s Z is powerful and blisteringly fast.
1967 Nissan Patrol
Forget about trying to see any throughline from this ’67 two-tone Patrol to any modern Nissan. The event organizers had it posed next to the 2025 Nissan Armada, but it’s a rather tenuous comparison at best.
The Patrol’s story in the United States market begins with its 60-Series second generation, which was sold at Datsun dealers through the 1960s, despite being Nissan-badged. These trucks used 4.0-liter inline-sixes that made 135 hp and 217 lb-ft of torque, managed by three-speed dogleg manuals.
This blue Patrol was discovered by a Nissan employee on a farm in Iowa, where we can only presume it was living its best life. It went through restoration and was later sold to the automaker’s heritage collection by that employee when they left the company.
Being the oldest of the bunch, it was no surprise the Patrol was also the rattliest old Nissan of the day. (Although a mere six years separate the Patrol from the first Z, they feel light-years apart.) The cabin is just unadorned bare metal, a bit like sitting in a tin can. Your voice echoes a lot in there. It’s a small climb to get into it, and the door slams behind you with a bassy clang. But whereas the old Land Rover Defenders are narrow as hell and offer no more space than an airplane bathroom, the Patrol is reasonably roomy. Good news for us elbow-having folks!
Getting the thing moving is quite easy, as the clutch is friendly and approachable, and the unassisted steering isn’t unworkably heavy. The only issue I had was releasing the parking brake, but that probably has more to do with my noodle arms than the truck. The dogleg first gear is positioned super far down, far lower than you’d expect, but there’s clearly plenty of power there. We weren’t able to do any off-roading around Nissan’s corporate headquarters, but it’s easy to imagine this truck doing some pretty serious rock crawling.
Second gear yields perceptible acceleration (we’re not winning races here, just hearts), with the rollicking ride quality not really smoothing out much with speed. But that’s part of the experience. The engine and transmission remain loud, yet once you get your bearings, the Patrol is rickety in all the best ways. It doesn’t demand delicate treatment, just that you remember it’s nearly 60 years old and account for that fact. Like with the brakes, which feel spongy and don’t stop the truck as immediately as you might want. The old Patrol works like a tractor and, as the most analog vehicle of the bunch, demands the most driver attention. With all its mechanicals working just under the surface, you don’t need very long behind the wheel to recognize this old off-roader as a living thing.
There currently is not a direct Patrol successor in Nissan’s playbook (the current-gen Patrol SUV, from which the Armada is spun off, is hardly “raw” or tidy), but how cool would that be? Something to challenge the Broncos and Wranglers out on the trails.
It’s easy to wonder, after spending time with all these old Nissans, why the hell Nissan isn’t doing stuff like this now (we turn our attention, as ever, to the Xterra it no longer builds). It’s a fair question, but if we wipe the mist from our eyes, we know it’s a clear case of enthusiast calls versus market responses. As a for-profit car company, it’s in Nissan’s best interest to sell cars the public will buy. Today, that means comfortable family haulers that adhere to modern safety standards. Us sick masochists might see nothing wrong with fetching the fam from the airport in a two-door, 30-year-old Pathfinder. Most people aren’t us, though. So, as we move further and further away from a world where a 720 or a Patrol can roll off the line new, the truth about those old cars is they are inefficient and nowhere near as safe and utilitarian as today’s.
Want to experience some of that old magic right now, though? The used market is your avenue. Or, you can make really, really good friends with someone at Nissan and see if they’ll crack open that heritage collection for you. It’s worth asking. The worst they can say is no.
But look at it this way: Should Nissan ever decide to revisit these ideas again, there’s already a precedent to follow.
I got into cars the way most people do: my dad. Since I was little, it was always something we’d talk about and I think he was stoked to have his kid share his interest. He’d buy me the books, magazines, calendars, and diecast models—everything he could do to encourage a young enthusiast. Eventually, I went to school and got to the point where people start asking you what you want to do with your life. Seeing as cars are what I love and writing is what I enjoy doing, combining the two was the logical next step. This dream job is the only one I’ve ever wanted. Since then, I’ve worked at Road & Track, Jalopnik, Business Insider, The Drive, and now MotorTrend, and made appearances on Jay Leno’s Garage, Good Morning America, The Smoking Tire Podcast, Fusion’s Car vs. America, the Ask a Clean Person podcast, and MotorTrend’s Shift Talkers. In my spare time, I enjoy reading, cooking, and watching the Fast & Furious movies on repeat. Tokyo Drift is the best one.
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