Against All Oddities: Crapcan Carspotting in Japan

Work hard, play hard. That seems to be the unofficial LinkedIn-fluencer motto these days. What that actually means in practice I cringe to think about. To me it means getting lost in the streets of Nagoya, Japan, on a business trip, taking photos of car stuff, and interacting with the locals, even if that means getting yelled at! After all of my engineering-day-job work was done on Friday, it was time to party. Join me in revelry, why don’t you?

I began in search of a used parts store called Up Garage. This place is like the front room of an LKQ but only for racy parts: seats, springs, turbo kits, and the like. After all, why not just bring back a transmission in my checked luggage, like I did last year? Coming home to my wife empty-handed would be rude. After spotting a set of L-series Datsun headers, I made sure to text my friend and foundry-storage-tenant, Thomas. A 280Z had recently followed him back to our car commune. On the trip to Japan I carried my bag on the plane, rather than checking it; these headers would have to be a major bargain to get me to wait in the baggage line at LAX and Charlotte, not to mention lug them on three trains.

I am thankful to all relevant JDM car deities that mine and the staff’s patience ran out before we managed to correctly cross-reference the car with the corresponding headers. As I walked out, I wondered, “Will a set of $5 Toyota Vitz lowering springs fit anything I or my friends own?”

We may never know.

Following a quick bit of lunch scavenged from the seafood aisle of the local grocery store, I made my way towards the Mirai Tower. The central park area is a prime car cruising spot, I was told. Granted, I was a bit early, but the pickin’s were somewhat slim. I did manage to spy a Mitsuoka Buddy, aka the best possible incarnation of a RAV4 in the form of a a square-body Chevy knockoff. This is why we travel, folks! Following that, I saw a nicely slammed E36 and a couple of other mildly interesting rides before I got an invitation from some friends to eat raw sea critters. Back to the hotel I went before hitting the streets in full force the next day.

On my final day in Japan, I had trains to catch to Tokyo Narita airport for a 5:10 pm flight, so final activities couldn’t be too time-consuming. I’d need to account for three hours of in trains, three hours early check-in at the airport, and an extra half hour for checkout and getting lost. I’d have to be back at the hotel by no later than 11:00 a.m. To maximize my time, this meant being first in line at the breakfast buffet (I can’t pass up breakfast fish) and slamming a couple of cups of coffee to hit the streets by 7:00 a.m. Sounds like a plan to me!

I was out the door and into the dead center of downtown Nagoya right on time. Downtown isn’t really the place to be; I needed to be in far scummier areas to bear witness to the type of Japanese car culture I was looking for. Imagine heavily rusted 1970s Skyline body shells, abandoned cars near train tracks, or Crown Comfort taxis en masse and you have the right idea.

A quick glance at the Google map overhead view had me overwhelmed. I zoomed out to a radius of an hour’s walk and typed “junkyard.” Hmm, not much. A query of “vintage cars” yielded a combination of thrift and car consignment houses that were located a train ride away. How about “auto body shop”? Ok, much more promising. Now let’s try “auto repair.” A cluster of points popped up in the same area, southwest of the city, approximately two miles away. I set my internal compass needle and wandered off.

The map pointed me in the direction of a series of canals. Between the bridges and lingering jetlag, I quickly became disoriented. Then, downtown’s squeaky clean sidewalks transitioned to dingy, narrow pathways with rusting metal buildings and—thank goodness—abandoned vehicles! Tucked in the weeds I laid eyes on a four-door E30 BMW 3 Series with an impostor M badge. Most likely this was a 320i with the teeny-tiny 2.0-liter straight-six. I’ll take it!

Continuing on, I followed the canal in the wrong direction for approximately ten minutes. That landed me in a quaint, working-class neighborhood. There, I spotted a neighbor and his slightly lifted Suzuki Jimny. Naturally, I wanted to say hello and ask if I could snap a quick photo. “おはようございます” I said, and gestured to my camera. Thankfully, with the aid of Google Translate, something like a conversation ensued. Into the translator I shared my story of living in Germany and off-roading my Lada Niva in an abandoned mine, alongside a pair of Jimnys. It must’ve gotten garbled and said something like “I was a German taking two chimneys off the highway into unexploded munitions,” as he seemed more concerned than fascinated. Thankfully, photos are the universal language, and images of the Niva in action got a rise out of him. We bid sayonara and I continued on my merry way.

Though technically a wrong turn, this neighborhood was a gold mine. In just a couple of very small blocks, I caught a Beetle, a Mercedes 190E, several Jimnys (Jimnies?), and a handful of slammed luxo-barge Toyota Crown and Lexuses (Lexi?). Wanting to actually hit the area where the alleged body shops were located, I rounded the block back to the main road.

That’s where I saw it: a mighty split-bumper Z28. Well, now! How does a Camaro make it all the way to the middle of the Pacific only to sit on four flat tires in the parking lot of a nuts, bolts, and fastener company? I had to investigate.

I walked into the open lot and popped off two photos before a man in full Bob The Builder gear, plus a face mask, angrily approached me. He was irate. I promptly left what apparently was private property and explained myself into Google Translate yet again: “I apologize. I am American and was drawn to the Camaro.” At that he immediately relaxed and realized he no longer had to defend his boss’s car from theft or his business from unknown foreigners. We did about a half dozen bows in ever-decreasing amplitude as I backed away. Finally, he motioned sternly at the horizon with his finger. Got it. No translation required there, jerk-san. With my tail between my legs, I sauntered off.

At this point I had walked about five miles and it was becoming clear that I’d have to resort to public transit to get me back to the hotel anywhere close to my desired departure time. As I started to cut my way through a parking area nestled underneath an overpass, serendipity shone upon me: a sleek AE92-series Toyota Levin with the legendary 4A-GE redtop motor. Looking like it hadn’t been moved in two decades, the Levin was the filthiest thing in all of Japan (barring certain animated content). I thought about trying to find the owner, but it exhausted me even more than the idea of fitting a set of headers in my carry-on. I put the bed the idea to bed and continued on my march towards the train station.

I did get back on time. Well, almost. A seven-mile walk is too much to squeeze into just four hours when you factor in photo-taking, car-admiring, making friends, and defending one’s honor. I didn’t bring back any parts this time, but this has inspired in me a healthy desire to increase the share of Japanese cars at the foundry. And as of this morning, that has just happened. I just can’t help but treat myself to a souvenir! More soon…

Check the full results of Matt’s car-spotting in the gallery below.