1960s American Cars Archives - CARS // MOTORBIKES

AMC AMX

To all intents and purposes, the AMX was a stripped-down AMC Javelin. It was a foot shorter – and weighed a lot less. On its release – in February ’68 – it was the sole US 2-seater sports car. It stayed in production until ’74. If AMC stood for American Motors Corporation, AMX did the same for American Motors eXperimental.

When a car sets 106 speed records, you know you are onto something. When it does so in a month, you know you have hit pay dirt! So it was when Craig Breedlove got behind the wheel of an AMX, shortly after its launch. Unsurprisingly, AMC saw fit to mark his success – with 50 red, white and blue AMX Breedlove specials. Rewind to the real world, and top speed for the AMX roadster was 120mph. The SS version – complete with a 390ci V8 – made at least 340bhp, and probably a whole lot more. Muscle car stats at the time tended to be understated. Built with one eye on the drag strip, just 50 SSs were sold. Partly, that was because its price was supercharged, as well as its power! If you needed more muscle from a standard AMX, way to go was a Go Pack. It included a bigger 401ci V8 motor. Output duly climbed to 330bhp. The Go Pack also provided uprated brakes, suspension and wheels/tyres.

By ’71, though, the AMX’s hot shot days were numbered. At that point, the top-of-the-range Javelin ruled AMC’s roost. Come ’74 – and the end of its run – its superstar status was substantially reduced. In its day, though, the AMX was more muscular than most. And certainly more modish. Saying that, the Mustang gave it a run for its money in the stylishness stakes!

Chevrolet Corvair

Sadly, the Chevrolet Corvair did not deliver on its potential. That was down to the fact that it garnered a reputation for oversteer. Pro motoring whistle-blower Ralph Nader pounced all over the Corvair’s alleged defects. They lay, he said, mainly in the handling department. Nader duly detailed them in his book Unsafe At Any Speed. This was a tract devoted to automotive health and safety. His words were diligently read by American drivers – and the Corvair’s fate was sealed. A ’64 revamp – with revised rear suspension – was a last-ditch attempt to rid the Chevy of its wild child image. It did not work.

Certainly, though, the Corvair got a tick in the box marked technical innovation. For a start, it featured a rear-mounted flat-six engine. Also, its suspension was fully independent. Throughout the Sixties, several versions of the Corvair were released. As well as a sporty coupé and stylish convertible, there was a turbo-charged model. The latter produced 180bhp. Which gave a top speed of 105mph.

Chevrolet designed the Corvair to take the fight to cheap European cars, flooding into US showrooms, at the time. It was marketed as ‘compact’ – though that was more by American than European metrics. Size-wise, it was similar to the British-made Ford Zephyr. Styling-wise, though, the Corvair’s restrained lines were cut from distinctly European cloth. More so than most of its American siblings, anyway. Indeed, Chevrolet went so far as to dub the coupé version, the Monza. And, the Corvair would go on to influence the Hillman Imp and NSU Prinz. Over a million Corvairs were built. It should have been more. Those misgivings about handling never quite subsided. As a result, ’64’s Ford Mustang galloped ahead, in sales terms. So far as American automobiles were concerned, however, the Chevrolet Corvair blazed a perfectly-formed trail for European-style sophistication.

Lincoln Continental

It is not often that a car plays its part in history. Sadly, though, that was the case for the Lincoln Continental. For, it was while riding in the stretched Presidential version – through Dallas, Texas, in ’63 – that John F Kennedy was fatally shot. The Continental was tailor-made for affairs of state. The MkII Continental – released in ’56 – came with virtually every mod con going. Naturally, it was graced with a price tag to match. What distinguished it was its pristine lines and sober styling. Chrome and fins were in evidence. But nothing like so much as on most other highway exotica, of the time. The Continental packed serious gravitas. In short, it had class!

’61 ushered in the most iconic Continental of all. That was the legendary ‘clap-door’ model. It acquired the tag on account of its rear-hinged back door. To say the least, it needed to be opened with care. Backwards-looking visibility was not its strong suit. Beware passing motorcycles! The second the new Lincoln was launched, celebrities’ minders strong-armed their way to the showrooms. Before long, everyone who was anyone had gone Continental. The new car had the lot! Shapely elegance, lashings of luxury – and, courtesy of Ford – a rorty V8. The Continental’s top speed was 125mph. Its 3-speed automatic gearbox made it a breeze to drive – especially if you were in the ‘power-top’ convertible version. The Continental saloon ate straightaways for breakfast. Corners – it has to be said – were slightly less to its taste. 7.0- and 7.5-litre engines were fitted. Maximum output was 365bhp. So – performance-wise – the Continental was no slouch. And that was with 5,215lb of body mass to move.

The Continental was a crowd-puller from the get-go. With its bulbous nose – and ‘egg-crate’ grille – it was a magnet for passers-by. Subsequent models, though, were less charismatic. The MkIII Continental, for example, had all of the size – but less of the charm – of its spotlessly-styled predecessor. So meticulously built was the original that Lincoln lost money on it. Into the ’60s – and the Continental continued to pick up plaudits. It comprised, after all, the best of both worlds – American scale and European refinement. Brawn mixed with chic, so to speak. All in all, the Lincoln Continental was one of a kind. A fitting backcloth, then, for that doom-laden day in Dallas – when the whole of the world held its breath!

Studebaker Avanti

The Avanti was supposed to resurrect the Studebaker brand. Company president Sherwood Egbert dreamed up the car – as a means to inject some much-needed vitality into Studebaker’s corporate veins. Egbert’s choice of designer for the Avanti was astute. Raymond Loewy – who had previously penned the Coca-Cola bottle – was hired as stylist. Loewy went the minimalist route … at least, as compared with many of his contemporaries. Typically, Detroit-built cars of the time were mainly comprised of chrome and fins. The Avanti, though, exuded European restraint. Its glassfibre-forged lines were smart – but unshowy. On the inside, too, things were similarly sophisticated. Neat instrumentation – and leather bucket seats – were fully imbued with Italianate finesse.

But – just two years after the Avanti’s release – Studebaker was no more. The firm went into receivership in ’64. And that seemed like that for the new car. At the last, though, automotive saviours stepped in – in the form of Studebaker dealers Nate Altman and Leo Newman. In no mood to see the Avanti die, they bought the rights to it – and set about re-starting production. With Studebaker motors no longer around, Chevrolet Corvette units were sourced. The car was re-christened the Avanti II. The original had already received rave reviews. Now, it acquired sought-after status, too. Altman and Newman’s faith was rewarded. The Avanti Motor Corporation thrived … right up until ’82.

Technically, the Avanti impressed. Its V8 engine made 335bhp. That took it to a top speed of 145mph. The power was controlled from a comfortable cabin. 4,643 Avanti IIs were sold. In subsequent years, there would be further attempts to keep the car going. Like Loewy’s coke bottle, certain products seem destined to be with us forever. And – while not quite in Coca-Cola’s league – customised Studebaker Avantis are always appearing. Last seen somewhere in Mexico, apparently!

Dodge Charger Daytona 500

The Charger Daytona 500 was Dodge’s response to Ford dominance. Specifically, in the form of NASCAR racing. The Charger car had been competitive in terms of outright power. But, it had been held back by an excess of speed-sapping drag. The Charger 500 version was an attempt to redress the balance. The Charger’s nose was duly enclosed. Its rear window fitment now sat flush with its surrounds. Those two changes alone made a big difference. In the ’69 season, the 500 won 18 races. Unfortunately for Dodge, its biggest rival – the Ford Torino – won 30! More was clearly needed. In short order, the 500’s nose grew 18″. Most noticeably, the car sprouted a huge rear wing. The updated model was 20% more aerodynamically efficient. It was duly dubbed the Daytona. NASCAR’s tables had turned!

505 Daytona road cars were built. Racing homologation rules required it. Sadly – from a Dodge point of view – they did not sell well. But – just as the showroom dust was starting to settle – TV rode to the rescue. The Dukes of Hazzard series turned the Charger tide. Indeed, for many – in the guise of the General Lee – the Charger was the star of the show. Week after nerve-racking week, the Sheriff seemed in perpetual pursuit of the Dodge-borne Dukes. Though, thanks to its GM Magnum V8 engine – and the 375bhp it provided – the good ol’ boys were able to stay out ahead! For real-life drivers, there was the choice of a 4-speed manual – or 3-speed TorqueFlite – gearbox. Suspension was by torsion bars, upfront – and leaf springs, at the rear. Respectively, they were connected to disc brakes and boosted drums.

Ironically, the new nose and rear wing – game-changing for the Daytona racer – hindered the roadster. The added weight slowed it down. And it was not travelling fast enough for the aerodynamic package to really kick in. That said – if performance took a tumble – turned heads and double-takes turned up by the shedload. But, it was on the oval banking that the Charger truly came into its own. Buddy Baker, for instance, drove a Daytona to NASCAR’s first 200mph lap. That was in 1970 – at Talladega, Alabama. The Daytona was, after all, named after one of the world’s most iconic race-tracks. Luckily, the Dodge Charger Daytona 500 fully lived up to the legend!

Oldsmobile Toronado

Of all the cars to have been made in Detroit, the Oldsmobile Toronado must be one of the biggest. This two-ton leviathan hit the road in ’65. The Toronado was the first mass-produced American car with front-wheel drive. As a result, it handled better than its rivals. 60% of the Toronado’s weight was over the front wheels. Torsion-bar suspension sealed the deal, stability-wise. Plus, two of the four tyres Firestone made especially for the Toronado. They featured stiffer sidewalls – and extra grip. The wheels were slotted – the better to cool the finned brake drums.

Power was provided by a 7-litre V8. Dubbed the Rocket, the engine produced 385bhp. That gave the Toronado a top speed of 130mph. The motor was mated with a 3-speed Hydra-Matic gearbox. Rubber insulation smoothed the V8 vibes. The mill sat in a solid, perimeter-framed chassis.

The Toronado was ahead of the game in its looks, too. Clean and vibrant lines set it apart. Its headlights’ electric flaps were a sweet styling touch. Alec Issigonis – designer of the Mini – said large engines could never be successfully twinned with FWD. Automotive giant though he was – the Oldsmobile Toronado proved him wrong!

Ford Shelby GT350

As motoring luminaries go, they do not shine much more brightly than Carroll Shelby. So – in ’65 – when the erstwhile racer trained his tuning sights on the Ford Mustang, the sports car community sat up. The first-model Mustang had been released the previous year – to great acclaim. It had impressed in every area … except one. In performance terms, the Mustang underwhelmed. Enter Carroll Shelby!

Styling-wise, the Mustang was fine. So, that was left alone – apart from new side-exhausts and stripes. Shelby headed straight for the engine – a Cobra 4.7-litre V8. He already knew a thing or two about it. He had, after all, been the catalyst for the AC Cobra. When Shelby picked up his spanners, the Mustang’s V8 made 271bhp. Ford had already uprated the original spec. Shelby, though, was sure there was more. He was right. By the time he put down his spanners, output had risen to 306bhp. That came, in the main, by modifying the manifolds. Though a Holley carburettor certainly helped. Top speed had risen to 149mph … with a 0-60 stat of 6.5s. Ensconced in their LA workshops, Shelby and his team had turned a meek and mild Mustang into a muscle car!

But, it would not have been a ‘Shelby’ without racing attached. It came in the form of the SCCA B-Production road-race series. The Shelby GT350R duly hit the grid. And went on to take the ’65, ’66 and ’67 titles. The R dished out 360bhp. While the roadster was not quite in that league, it was no slouch. Koni suspension was suitably solid. The chassis was well up to taking the strain. Front discs – and rear drums – provided safe and assured braking. Transmission was 4-speed. Carroll Shelby had done it again. Cut from the same cloth as the AC Cobra, Ford’s GT350 was already a thoroughbred sports car. And when a class act like Shelby got a hold of it, sparks were always going to fly. In a perfect trajectory, of course!

Dodge Charger

There have been few cars as iconic as the Dodge Charger! Since Steve McQueen found himself followed by one – in the movie Bullitt – it has been the stuff of legend. The Ford Mustang and Dodge Charger squared up to each other in the showrooms, too. Between the pair of them – in their battle for muscle car pre-eminence – they put Detroit on the world map. Before that, some Stateside cars were getting just a tad gaudy. There is a limit to how much chrome – and how many fins – a car can take, before it starts to become borderline kitsch. Cars like the Charger stripped things back to basics. Simple lines defined a new, no-nonsense approach to styling. The Charger was built to, well, charge – and not much more. Its only concession to design décor was the buttressed rear window.

There could be only one engine for this masterclass in American machismo. A V8 was a shoo-in for the Charger’s powerplant. All that grunt, though – piledriving rear wheels into the tarmac – meant handling could be hairy. That was best illustrated by the R/T – Road and Track – model. Released in ’68, it was the most uncompromising version of the Charger. Delivering 375bhp – and 150mph – the R/T was a heady brew of torque and speed. 0-60 arrived in 6s. This time round, rock-solid suspension – and anti-roll bars – enabled the R/T to handle as well as it went. It came with a 4-speed Hurst gearbox. Powerful front disc brakes were optional. Well, according to the spec list, anyway!

The Charger would be one of the last of the muscle car breed. It was produced until ’78. After that, the automotive industry took a more leisurely, safety-oriented tack. Never again would the roads of America echo with such ear-splitting gear-driven crescendos. Of course – in Bullitt – the Dodge Charger was driven by the bad guys. Certainly, it is among the most dramatic cars ever to have turned a wheel. And anyway … we all secretly love a good baddie, don’t we?

Buick Riviera

Its name alone told you all you needed to know about the Buick Riviera. It was a classy automobile! Built at a time when in your face fins and chrome were ubiquitous, the Riviera oozed cool sophistication. Automotive haute couture, so to speak. Spotlessly clean, in design terms, its shape was especially powerful in profile. The Riviera’s elegantly-drawn body was along the lines of, say, a Jaguar or Bentley. So European were its looks that it might almost have been described as the Rolls-Royce of American cars! Interior décor, too, was in the continental style – complete with rounded dashboard dials and floor-mounted gear-shift. Electric windows and power steering came as standard, naturally!

But, the Riviera’s charms were more than skin-deep. In highest-spec 7.0-litre guise, its V8 engine produced no less than 365bhp. Top speed was a cool 130mph … pretty good going for a five-seater saloon car. A two-speed automatic gearbox kept it all on an even keel. Not that the Riviera was perfect, of course. Handling was average – not helped by the live rear axle. And its drum brakes were prone to high-speed fade.

The Riviera, then, was a satisfying blend of American and European. The best of both worlds, Buick hoped. For all its cosmopolitan chic, there was still more than a hint of muscle-bound machismo. Straddling the ‘pond’, you might say. At the time, it was the bee’s knees in transatlantic travel. Indeed, many a Mediterranean tourist would not be seen in anything else. Would they, chéri?