You’ve Heard of Vitamin D – This is Vitamin Z

For as long as I can remember, the Datsun Z wasn’t just a car to me, it was a myth. Growing up in Damascus, Maryland, you either saw trucks or American muscle, but never a Z.

The shape, the sound, the attitude of that Japanese coupe stood apart from everything else. Years passed, other cars came and went, and I learned the craft of Volkswagens, how precision and personality could coexist – but the Z never left my mind.

When a 1978 280Z finally surfaced for sale in New York, I knew it was the one for me. I hired an inspector to make sure it was roadworthy, then had it shipped to Charlotte, North Carolina, where I was living at the time. Watching that transport truck pull up felt like a dream years in the making, finally rolling off a trailer and into reality.

She didn’t arrive in perfect condition. The car wore a tired Maaco paint job that did little to hide the years of use, and the engine needed far more than a tune up. But the lines and soul was there, waiting for me to make my own. I brought a bit of my VW heritage into the cabin, orange GTI tartan stitched across the interior as a nod to the cars that shaped the way I build. Every time I climb in, that pattern connects where I started with where I’m headed.

Under the hood lives an L28ET that carries the heartbeat of the project. The engine came together with the help of Datsun House in Monroe, North Carolina, people who know how to respect the past while pushing it forward. It’s a thoughtful mix: ProtunerZ hardware, a Bonk cam, Techno Toy Tuning pieces and Apex Engineering touches. Nothing exists for show alone, as every part has a purpose, and together they make the car feel honest and alive.

In Myrtle Beach, Datsuns are rare enough to feel mythical. When Vitamin Z (as I like to call it ) rolls through, kids point, the older crowd shares stories of the ones they owned and strangers ask what it is. That moment, when curiosity turns into recognition, is why I drive her as often as I can. She carries nostalgia without pretending to be a museum piece and belongs on the road, a true driver, giving the community a small jolt of memory and possibility.

This build has taught me plenty with late nights, bleeding knuckles, and plans that looked cleaner on paper than in practice. I’ve learned to appreciate the mess as much as the milestones, as progress isn’t a straight line; it’s a path you figure out while walking it. Vitamin Z keeps reminding me that growth has texture and that patience is a performance part you can’t order.

There’s still work ahead. The seats are next, then a Z32 transmission and a new rear setup. I used to think finishing was the goal. Lately, I think the end is just another chapter. A car like this breathes and evolves, and that’s its charm.

Vitamin Z is a dream realized, not preserved. She’s a living project, shaped by good hands, honest parts, and miles that matter. Around here, sun and salt can dull anything left standing still.

So we keep moving, and every time I turn the key, Myrtle Beach gets its dose, no prescription required.