Remember Captain Nemo’s six-wheeler?

23 June, 2015

Even the presence of Sean Connery couldn’t lift the 2003 flick The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen out of the doldrums. Critically pasted at the time — it scored a woeful 17 per cent on international movie site, Rotten Tomatoes — most critics feeling that the film’s creators had strayed too far from the source material: Alan Moore’s series of graphic novels. However, one of the movie’s saving graces was Captain Nemo’s amazing six-wheeler car.

Deigned by production designer and art director Carol Spier, Nemo’s steampunk-inspired car actually started life as a humdrum Land Rover fire tender. The Landie’s chassis was then draped with a fibreglass body embellished with antique gold-looking decorations that took their design cues from the Hindu god Ganesha.  The car’s wheels each measure 72cm and, hidden within the arches, are hydraulics enabling the car’s ride height to be adjusted.

Powered by a Rover V8, Nemo’s car was a totally functional bit of movie kit — and featured a fully trimmed interior complete with a complete set of Land Rover gauges. After several years in storage, the car is now showing some signs of wear as well as evidence of running repairs undertaken during filming.

However, Captain Nemo’s Nautilus car remains in full running condition and will go under the hammer at Coys Blenheim Palace auction on July 11. The car’s sale price is estimated to be in the range of £18,000–25,000 (NZ$41,500–57,600).

“Gotcha!’’ The continuing tale of a Nissan/Datsun tragic – part two

In 1996, I was on a mission to buy a suitable pavement scorcher and visited the now-defunct Manukau City Car Fair. Unbelievably, among the sea of four-door utilitarian Japanese compacts was the absolute jewel in the crown, my automobile wet dream — a 1985 two-door R30 RS Nissan Skyline FJ20 Turbo five-speed manual in nice condition. The owner wanted $10,000 — a great deal.
But what did I do? I bailed out, paralysed by indecision. The money would have been a stretch, but it was the worst automotive choice I ever made. Instead, I went for a rusty Toyota Sprinter 8 Valve Twin Cam Coupé, which was pretty terminal from the get-go. I know. We’ve all done it, but there was really no excuse for passing up the Skyline, and I was haunted by that for years.

Last Tango in the Fast Lane

In the mid ’80s, I locked into a serious Nissan/Datsun performance obsession. It could have kicked off with my ’82 Datsun Sunny, though this would have been a bit of a stretch of the imagination, given its normally aspirated 1.2-litre motor — not the sort of thing to unleash radical road warrior dreams. But it did plant a seed, and it was a sweet little machine and surprisingly quick, in contrast to all the diabolical English offerings I had endured.
I was living in South Auckland at the time and was an unrepentant petrolhead. Motor racing was my drug of choice, and I followed the scene slavishly. Saloon car racing, with the arrival of the international Group A formula, was having a serious renaissance here and in Australia and Europe. There was suddenly an exotic air in local racing that had been absent for 15 years.
I was transfixed by this new frontier of motor racing that had hit our tracks in 1985–87 and the new array of machinery on display. In 1986, the Nissan Skyline RS DR30 made a blinding impression on me. The Australian Fred Gibson-run, Peter Jackson-sponsored team of George Fury and Glenn Seton were the fastest crew of the 1986 Australian Touring Car Championship. But Kiwi legend Robbie Francevic snuck through to win the Aussie Championship in his Volvo 240T after a strong start and consistent finishes.