"This is not my car," Non Fujita says to me when I show him the slides of his car for the very first time. He is staring at a shot that will eventually become this month's cover: his '97 Silvia in a front-side stare down, all squat with gleaming fenders and marble-smooth curves. I hand him the next shot-the one you see on this page. He shakes his head and laughs. "No, this is not my car."
We are inside his shop, Enonvativ Force. The place is small and lean on dcor. Inside the garage, there are no signs of tools. The four white walls starve for posters, and the floor is clean of grease. Everything about the place is simple, neat, and understated, which is glib irony considering the maniacally amazing projects he produces here.
A past creation, a '93 Mazda RX-7 (Super Street Nov. '97), sits tucked in a corner. The roadster has gone through a number of evolutions and incarnations, and most recently came out of the Fujita cocoon as a station wagon (don't even try to picture it-even he admits it's weird). There is also the Mazda Miata that his wife drives, sprayed with the same trademark mix of indescribable metallic deep tan-gray visible on the Silvia.
And finally, there is the Silvia: a '97 Nissan 240SX that he built as close to Japanese specs as is possible in Southern California. Its distinction cannot be measured in trophies nor its exquisiteness in metaphors. During the photo shoot, the Silvia found its proper stage under the studio lights. Photographer extraordinaire (and part-time Kelly Slater wannabe) Wes Allison reined in every subtle detail. From the front, the car looks vicious. The bumper is unmistakably R33 Skyline GT (part of a custom-crafted body kit by Non under his shop tag, Enonvativ Force). The fenders bulge out in monstrous flares. Bomex aero side mirrors flush out from the windshield frame, balancing the top with the oversized bottom. Conversely, the car as a whole does not scream for attention; it whispers sophistication with the voice of aristocracy.
Oh, crap. That was me during the shoot. This car is on a different plane. How was I to describe all this? Now, with my work at hand, all I can say is I wish you were there.
On most days, the Silvia can be found parked in front of Non's shop. Despite its status as a multiple show-winner, it battles the pockmarked streets of Los Angeles on a daily basis, as Non drives it every day to work and back again. "Cars aren't meant to be trailered," he told me during the shoot. His sentences are curt, but always on point. "They are meant to be driven." I remember telling Non, at that time, that he was correct-that cars are meant to be driven-but, now, looking at these photos, I must contradict myself. The evidence presents itself. This car isn't meant to be driven. It's meant to be looked at.
But you're still out of luck. As amazing as these photos are, they don't do the car justice. Non was right: This is not his car. Well, not exactly. Precision and dimension are lost on the printed page. Words may add fill, but, at best, the result will still be a semi-sensory model of the real thing. I do not exaggerate when I say that textbooks could be dedicated to dissecting the work. From the custom side skirts and rear bumper to the Bomex rear wing, everything looks and fits like it was designed by Nismo for a Japanese showroom. Even the wiper blades have been removed in favor of a Japanese-spec single-blade unit by Battle club (removed per photographer Allison's artistic request). Not as simple as it sounds. Non had to rewire the motors just to accommodate the single blade.
Enjoyed this Post? Subscribe to our RSS Feed, or use your favorite social media to recommend us to friends and colleagues!