Yahoo Autos 1989 Nissan President Review: A Better Land Yacht
By now, everyone has heard of the Toyota Century: Japan’s exclusive luxury sedan for its domestic elite, positioned above even Lexus. It’s a status symbol with no equal in Kyoto—except, perhaps, the Nissan President.
Toyota wasn’t the only Japanese carmaker to stake its image on an ultra-exclusive luxury sedan aimed at its home market, nor was it even the first. The Nissan President beat it to the punch, and it exchanged white-gloved blows with the Century into the new millennium.
In the end, while the Century outlasted it, and is today the better-known of the two, that’s no mark against this esteemed Nissan. The President is still stately, still makes a statement, though that statement has changed with time and distance from its origin. But even if its glory is a little faded, the Nissan President is still a top-notch luxury sedan, with conspicuous echoes of American land yachts that are no accident. And like so many things from the 1970s and ‘80s, Japan simply did it better than we did.
[Editor's Note: JDM Week at The Drive is brought to you by Duncan Imports, one of America's largest importers and resellers of Japanese domestic market vehicles. Big thanks to owner Gary Duncan for opening up his private collection and allowing us to take a few for a spin. If your interest is piqued, you can see the company's full inventory here.]
1989 Nissan President Specs | |
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Election Day
The President was introduced in 1965 as the flagship—no, the flagpole-topping ornament of Nissan’s lineup, beyond the Cedric Special and competing Toyota Crown Eight. At the time, it had the biggest engine displacement—4.0 liters—and the largest body of any domestic car in Japan. That’s both because it was modeled after contemporary American cars (which is why it looks like one), and because it catered to the country’s top business and government officials. It was more than insubstantial excess, of course: the President was the first Japanese passenger car to feature power mirrors and door locks, as well as early mechanical anti-lock brakes. It also got a head start on the Toyota Century, which didn’t launch for another two years.
Nissan carried that formula forward for the second-generation model in 1973, which is said to be more of a facelift than a true redesign. It looks even more explicitly like an American car, though at a smaller scale—it’s two feet shorter and six inches narrower than a 1973 Cadillac DeVille.
It didn’t go as wild with displacement either, offering either a pushrod 3.0-liter inline six or a 4.4-liter V8. Both were carbureted and linked to a three-speed automatic transmission. Neither its double-wishbone front suspension nor leaf-sprung rear trailing arms were groundbreaking, but its digital clock (added 1975, Nissan’s first) was. Also, it was still profoundly expensive. Registration fees alone supposedly equaled the annual salary of new college graduates at the time.
And so it remained until 1990, receiving minor updates but no major changes throughout the rest of its production run. You’re probably wondering why Nissan let a Malaise Era dinosaur, one aimed at its wealthiest clientele, coast along for 17 (or maybe 25) years—it was months from coexisting with the Honda NSX for chrissake.
That’s because the President (and the similarly long-toothed Century) had the same cachet that the Mercedes G-Wagen does today. Customers didn’t want them to change because their anachronistic styling was a status symbol. The general public couldn’t tell if it was looking at a ‘73 or a ‘90, all it saw was a car whose back-seat passenger was somebody. Maybe a successful businessman whose favor they’d want to curry. Maybe an important official they didn’t want to cross. Maybe a yakuza crime boss they really didn’t want to cross.
The point is, a Nissan President was much more than a nice place to chainsmoke: It was a statement. And while the passage of 50 years (half a century, heh) hasn’t changed either of those things, it has changed the reasons why the President is still special.
Ouroboros
From first approach, the Nissan President is as familiar as it is alien. Wiped of badges, it could be almost any 1970-ish luxury sedan, but then you notice the fender mirrors, the corner markers, the touches of holdover ‘60s trends that give you pause—there’s a whole lotta Chrysler C-body in this; those taillights look like they might’ve been stolen straight from a ‘69 Plymouth Fury. All the while, its high headlights and grille elevate its nose as high in the air as its passenger’s, almost as if to say, “Please speak with my secretary.”
The disorientation only increases when you open the driver’s door (right side, of course) and expose Nissan-stamped sill plates and electric seat adjustment switches that look quintessentially ‘60s American. But the woodgrain dashboard, the switchgear, and deep, lush sofa-like cloth seats all feel ‘70s, sans the cost-cutting we associate with U.S. cars of the time. Then you come to the instruments and tech: a digital clock, cassette deck, back-seat climate controls and audio system with an AUX jack—they all ring ‘80s. These are three distinct eras of automotive design that are a little discordant, but in a way that pleasantly surprises as you notice additional details about the interior.
