- There is a butt ton of
people stoked out there for the new Nissan Z. Nolan won't shut up about it. I can't stop dreaming about it. And there's probably gonna be fights in the fricking streets for
the keys to these things. So I wanted to take a little step back, back to before the 400, before the 350, before the 300, before even the 280ZX, before all of this, there's the 240Z. (car engine revving) Now we wouldn't have any of these other cars without this one. We almost didn't have any of them at all. Not without a little thing that
I like to call a conspiracy. (dramatic music) I'm talking butterfly, Ashton Kutcher effects stuff here, guys. This story is crazy and it took months for us
to get it straight, why? There's tons of rumors, false reports, and even the Z experts around the world still can't agree on the details of it, more than 15 years later. This is everything you need
to know to get up to speed on the conspiracy, to
build the Datsun 240Z. (upbeat arcade music) A big thanks to carparts.com
for sponsoring today's video. (singing indistinctly) (phone ringing) Hello, Meemaw? - No, man, it's your cousin,
James, where are you right now? - I'm not quite sure, but I'm on my way to
Meemaw's for the holidays. - But I have to fix your truck. - Oh, that old thing? I already fixed it. That's what I'm driving. - What, you did what? - I just did what you said
and I went to carparks.com and you know what? You weren't lying. They really do make it quick
and easy to find the parts that you need when you need them. - Well, buddy, I got to say,
I'm really proud of you. - Gee, wiz Cousin James, you know, I'm beginning to wonder
if I actually am clumsy or perhaps the nickname Clumsy Carl perpetuated myself narrative so potently. If I ever stopped being clumsy, I wouldn't know who I was no more. (hood bangs) - All right, Carl, your truck's all set for the long snowy
drive to Meemaw's house. And remember, if you break down in the middle of the nowhere, tell Meemaw to go to
carparts.com so you can get parts for any job and any budget. - Golly, gee, cousin, is this really the end of my time out here in LA? - Well, based on your
Donut Intern Contract, I think you're obligated
to be in one more video. - That mean my truck's
gonna break down again? - Yes, 100%. All right, buddy, have a good time. - Well, tooth's sweet. (bright melody playing)
(beeps) - Just like every
heartwarming story at Disney, this story starts with a demotion. The year's 1916, after 15 years of working as Nissan's head of
advertising in Yokohama, Japan, 50-year-old Yutaka Katayama, who you probably know as Mr. K, is being transferred to New York City to establish Nissan's US office. Now this doesn't sound
like a downward move, but trust me, it is. Nissan's other executives were
tired of Mr. K's wild ideas, like taking Nissan racing or establishing the Tokyo Auto Salon. What a fricking weirdo. This dude's (beeps). So they're moving him somewhere that he can't rock the boat this hard, but let me tell you something
about Mr. K, all right? This dude who was born
and raised to rock boats, when you're a boat rocker, obstacles and opportunities look the same. They both look like boats, boats that you want to rock. Ask me how I know, I happened to be quite
a boat rocker myself. Now, before he leaves for
America, Mr. K's older brother gives him a parting gift,
a Japanese Naval flag flown to inspire sailors with
this motivational message. "Let each man do his utmost." It's called the Z ensign. - Oh, my God. Are you familiar with the
concept of foreshadowing? - I may have wroten the
book on "Foreshadowing". - [Carl] Meanwhile. - [James] Back in Japan at Nissan HQ, a young 25-year-old Yoshihiko Matsuo is settling into his new job at Nissan. This dude wanted to be a car designer since he was three years old when he got busted for drawing
on his grandparents' doors. I think we can all relate. If you're watching this channel, chances are that you've
drawn on a door, too. Well, guess what grandpa,
now he's getting paid for it and feels like a dream, but as most of us find out
as we entered the real world, big business ain't so
interested in dreams. And all too often, Matuo's
ideas are turned down for being too extreme. He's a boat rocker, just like Mr. K. So he just turns around
and tells his bosses that the new sedan that
Pininfarina designed for Nissan looks like a pooping butt. Looks like a pooping butt. Looks like a pooping butt. He actually did this. The guy told them that the car
looked like a pooping butt. Nissan had just paid Pininfarina big money to design the new Bluebird
and this rookie comes in and says that the car's
downward sloping rear looks like someone squatting on a toilet. That's in quotes, my man,
he said that, all right. Stuff like this rubs the supervisors wrong and not in the way that you secretly like, you know what I mean? So just like Mr. K, Matsuo was peeved, but not really surprised when
he gets a demeaning assignment to design a miniature car
for an amusement park, but soon after he nails
his bumper car assignment, he gets his first last laugh. The 410 Bluebird that he said
looked like a pooping butt, is selling like a pooping butt. And this makes the higher
ups reconsider his tastes. And they ask him to redesign
the car, which he does. He also suggests a new trim
level with bucket seats, a floor-mounted 4-speed
manual transmission and dual carburetors for more power, baby. And bing, bang, boom. Matsuo just created one of the
world's first sports sedans, the Bluebird Super Sports Sedan or SSS. You know, like what a cobra says when it's about to be stepped on. SSS, I got venom brother. Now thanks to the success
of the Bluebird SSS, Matsuo is promoted to Nissan
sports car design division in 1965, and thanks to this
promotion, he meets Mr. K. Now without this meeting,
there's no Z conspiracy. And without this conspiracy,
there's no Z, all right? Follow the money. In his first few months as the head honcho of Nissan's fourth design studio, Matsuo and his two teammates
produce a few sketches and models of two seat roadsters, and... (speaks in gibberish) And Nissan execs assume they're
working on a replacement for the only sports car
in the company's lineup, the aging Datsun 1600 roadster. But are they really? Matsuo wanted to build
a brand new sports car, something sleek, something modern and fast that would show the world
what Japan was capable of. Mr. K had the same idea and a new title. He was now the president of Nissan USA and after five years of
50 years boat rocking, Mr. K successfully shifted
America's view of Datsun from a company that makes
cheap underpowered tin cans to a company that makes cheap underpowered reliable tin cans. So Mr. K visits Japan later that year, and this is when he meets Matsuo, who shows him a roadster design with an aerodynamic
European inspired body. And trust me when I say this, you guys, it doesn't look anything
like a pooping butt. It looks like the future
and Mr. K likes the future. So he tells Matsu that this
is exactly the kind of thing that he wants for the American market. Matsuo tells Mr. K his
managers want him to take a more conservative approach. As you can probably imagine dragons, this triggers a bonding moment. The kind of moment that only happens when two leashed
visionaries catch a glimpse of a future unchained. Boat rocker meets boat rocker. Things are about to get wet and wild. So how can Matsuo continue developing the sports car of the future while tasked to keep working
on the boring alternative? Well, it's gonna take a little conspiracy. All right, funnily enough, the key to tricking Nissan corporate is baked into their corporate process. Nissan design teams work on
multiple prototypes at once to develop several options
for the bosses to choose from. So Matsuo's dream sports car is already filed under planning, okay? And the conservative designs that his bosses want him to
build are filed under Plan B. So if he and his team
shift focus to Plan A, he's gonna be in deep
dookie and he knows that, so he flexes his boss man muscles and hires additional
designers to work on Plan B, and decades later, Matsuo
fesses up to this con in a memoir that he
wrote with Mr. K called "Fairlady Z Story". "On the face of things, it
looked as if I was developing both projects at the same time, but in fact, with the extra staff, I was able to concentrate
all of my efforts towards the Plan A proposal
and the rest is history." With Mr. K as the wind
beneath Matsuo's wings, he and his assistant
designer, Akio Yoshida, focused on refining Plan A. Then in 1966, something happens that turns the project on its head. The US is considering
new vehicle safety rules and rumors are flying, that
they're gonna ban convertibles. The National Traffic and
Motor Vehicle Safety Act didn't ban convertibles
when it passed in 1967, but it did mandate seat
belts, so that's good. I believe in seat belts,
you should wear them. But in reaction to the rumors, the Plan A team shifted
to fixed roof designs, fastbacks and notchbacks. They also build one
model with a targa top, and what's that little
emblem on the targa bar? Enhance. Enhance. It's the fricking Z ensign. (suspenseful music) Which will make more sense
now that I remember this part. Matsuo received a special
message in the mail from Mr. K after they met, a Z ensign flag. I mean, you'd think that these guys would name the car after cool flag, right? In early 1967, Mr. K returns to Yokohama to check out the new Bluebird 510 before it's released in the
US, another Datsun legend, we did an episode way back in the day. While he's there, he checks in on the
secret sports car project and what he sees completely blows him away. The car is stunning. It's long hood and short sloping fastback, recessed sugar scoop headlights, and slim front bumper
dividing the open front grill would cause the prettiest
sports cars Europe has to offer, I'm talking Ferrari 275 GTB
and Jaguar E-Type coupe. Yes, Matsuo and his team were
inspired by those greats, but this clay model is wholly original. It's more efficient. It's more refined. It's more Japanese dare I say. It's the car Mr. K's been waiting for, the car to show the world
what Nissan is capable of, what Japan is capable of. Now this new model is so dang good that Mr. K clues in Nissan
first Design Department Manager, Taichi Hora, and Hora is so stoked on it, that he assembles a team
for engineering development. He's convinced he can persuade
the board of directors to approve this car in the future. So he gets the engineering
ball rolling early without running it by any
of the corporate higher-ups. Add Mr. Hora to our list
of Project Z conspirators. And remember, conspiracies are defined as plots devised in secret
by two or more people. And Mr. Hora makes three. We're only eight away
from Mr. K's 11, okay? Things are finally
getting real, all right? There's nothing more
real than engineering. I've looked it up, Google it. Pause, goat, wait, hold on. Unpause, open a new
window, all right, okay. Google, is there anything
more real than engineering? No, so this is where the
realest dude so far comes in. All right, Engineering
Designer Hitoshi Uemura. He's in charge of engineering the yet-to-be-named new sports car. And on June 8th, 1967, Uemura
and the engineering team meet with Matsuo and the design
team kicking the project, you know, high enough
gear that someone's like, "You know what, guys, we should
probably name this thing." "Uh, okay, um.
(bee buzzing) What about the Nissan, uh,
(bee buzzing) B?" Chief Engineer Hajima Suitsu's like, "All right, we'll figure it out later. For now, we'll just give it
a development code name." "Um, not a lot left, we've made
about 25 cars at this point. How about the Z?" The Z ensign flag had nothing
to do with the cars name. Weird. So two months before the June meeting, the engineer team came up
with a checklist of musts for the new sports car, including the car will ship
for sale in August, 1969, nice. North American retail price will start an, oddly specific, $2,546, nice. The car will be profitable
in North America, sounds like a good plan for a business. Now those specific
mentions of North America are mostly the results
of Mr. K's influence. Now he'd been nagging Nissan
to build a better sports car for the American market for years. A hatchback coupe with a
torquing 2.4 liter straight-six would light American fires hotter than any tiny four cylinder
Datsun roadster ever could. This new sports car also had to fit our big old American
bots, no big deal, right? Well, Matsuo and his team
painstakingly refined every little detail of this car. So when Uemura tells Matsuo
to raise the roof line to accommodate taller drivers, widen the car to fit the
optional automatic transmission, and all this other stuff,
Matsuo was like, "Nope." And I get it, all right. This dude battled so hard to
keep his dream of a sleek, low, lightweight sports car
alive as he envisioned it. He wasn't to mess that
all up for, you know, big fat chili dog eating
Americans like me. (groans) I wish I could
still eat chili dogs. I'd go to Cincinnati right now, boy. But if a good percentage
of the Western world couldn't fit in the Z, it would be doomed. Someone just has to get
this through to Matsuo, who's at his desk, listening to Lil Peep with his arms crossed. Hora breaks Matsuo's freeze
and brokers a compromise, and the design and engineering
teams work together to keep the car sleek,
low, and lightweight, but also let a big boy like me and Nolan fit behind the wheel. Now this takes six major layout changes and 70 individual tweaks. All these changes require a new clay model to represent the final
design of Project Z. Matsuo assigns Kumio Tamura to finalize the fine lines
of the car on the clay, and it's this version of Project Z that lights the
four-wheeled world on fire. Before we get there, we have to go to a very important meeting, possibly the most important meeting in the history of Nissan. It's 1967, entire legitimate
gaggle of Nissan execs are waiting for the sheets to come off several prototypes sports cars. They're here to pick one for production. A few hours ago, Taichi Hora secretly
arranged the prototypes to make Project Z look
like the obvious choice. Mr. K mingles with the
execs, ready to act surprised when the sheet comes off Project Z. His dream, the dream
he shares with Matsuo, who worked so hard to bring
it to life, is on the line. Mr. K's stoke gets the better of him. "This is it," he says. "Well, I don't know what you guys think. I think this was probably
a pretty good choice. I mean, whatever you guys think, but this one's pretty good." Thankfully, the president
of Nissan at the time, Takasugi Kamimata is impressed. And with two words, he
sets an honest-to-goodness sports car revolution into motion. He says, "It's good." (triumphant music) The conspiracy worked. Why was it necessary in
the first place, right? Because taking risks is scary. In the business world, it's expensive. Playing it safe as you know, safer. And in the mid 60s, this plan
and designs were dangerous, especially for a Japanese car company. I mean, remember what happened
about 20 years before? Just the idea of the Z Project
was big nuts, all right. In more ways than one, but these guys figured
out how to make it happen. All it took was a little slight of hand and years of intense inspired work. Nissan unveils the Datsun
240Z in New York City on October 22nd, 1969, nice. And people freaking loved it. Not only is this car beautiful, it offers Porsche 911 performance
at a Mustang price point, that silky smooth 2.4 liter straight-six sounds the business, and
has the beans to back it up, the handling is fricking superb. And look at it, guys, nothing on the road can touch the 240Z even cars going for twice the money. And like I said earlier, an honest-to-goodness
sports car revolution. Nissan sells more than 110,000 Zs globally in the first three years of the model, which is a huge deal for
Japanese import at the time. And the car proves just
as potent on the track and on brutal rally stages as it was on the mean
streets of any town USA. When the first generation Z hit the end of production in 1978, more than half of a million had been sold with some 83% landing
in American driveway. Z fever had taken US by storm. And as we know today, the letter Z is directly linked to Nissan's
success in the States. More than that, the original
Z is hugely responsible for America's embrace of any Japanese car, whether you're a Nissan fan or not. If you're an American
who likes Japanese cars, you owe everything to Mr. K, Mr. Matsuo, and the Z conspiracy. Because without them, we'd
all be driving Mustangs, and there'd be a lot less of us around because we'd all be dead. (beeps) (suspenseful music) (chicken-like cackling) - It's been years, but the comments still haunts me. More HRSPRS? Was it even possible? (table bangs) How much horse is too much horse? I had to know. (explodes) Test after test, failure after failure, I began to doubt that
I'd ever find out, then it happened. I think I have it. I think I have it. I've done it, I've done it. HRSPRS are infinite. - So saddle up boys and
girls, and hit the trails with this 100% scientifically
accurate new HRSPRS shirt, available right now at donutmedia.com, and it features everything
that you need to know about pure ekline muscle. A real horse, that costs
you thousands dollars, but this pony is 29.98,
which is way less than $30. Go ask your mathematician uncle. Thank you guys so much
for watching this video and everything else on Donut Media. If you'd like to hit that like button, it really, really helps us out. You don't want to miss anything,
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