[Editor’s Note: Stanley Yee is a young car enthusiast and current journalism student. We get offers for “articles” all the time from a variety of folks, but most are either spam or junk. This is neither, as it’s instead a bit of proof that the love of cars if alive and well in the Millennial generation.]
Daily driving a car from the 60s is far from the most intelligent thing to do, but my 1969 Datsun 510 seems to be an exception to the rule. Maybe it’s blind luck, but my 510 has been dutifully acting as my one and only car for close to a decade, and shows no sign of slowing down.
Automotive technology has come a long way in a short period of time, but my car shows firsthand why simple can be good. Think of it like this: my Datsun is a piece of sushi; there’s nothing fancy, just a few quality ingredients that work. Compare that to something of this generation, a Nissan GT-R for example, and the differences are staggering. The GT-R, an incredible machine in its own right, integrates cutting-edge materials and modern technology to create its own driving experience. The GT-R is akin to a fancy dish with numerous layers and components, all culminating into a singular complex plate.
At the end of the day, the two cars are on opposite ends of the spectrum, yet my tried and true Datsun can still hold its own against today’s modern machines.


With an engine in the front, a proper manual transmission, and power going to the rear, my 510 is a poster child for the automotive purist in all of us. Its lack of modern amenities makes it light as a feather, tipping the scales at around the same weight as a first generation Miata.
My 510 is, as you can plainly see, far from perfect. The paint and bodywork do nothing to hide their imperfections, the engine chugs 91 octane to deliver just 109 horsepower, and any original rubber bushings or seals have long since disintegrated. Yet in some Clarkson-esque way, these flaws give my car character.
This machine has no power steering, no power brakes, no A/C, and no power windows. To anyone else, driving my car is an absolute nuisance, but for me these traits are just its fine nuances. It’s like an old shoe that’s been broken in over the years, torn and ratty yet more comfortable than anything else you own.

People come up to me all the time to ask me about my Datsun. Some ask about the drivetrain, others recount their old cars, and more often than not, they ask if my car is for sale. I assume most ask out of sheer curiosity, but it would take a seriously optimistic offer to take the car off my hands.
Unless someone comes along with a burlap sack full of cash, I will keep my car for the foreseeable future. One day it’ll get the restoration it deserves, but until then I’ll continue to use it as my daily driver, as it always has been.

[Images copyright 2015 Hooniverse/Stanley Yee]