Hall of Fame #3: Toyota Century

Today I welcome the first non-US contribution to the Hall of Fame. You may have noticed that I prefer to tout American accomplishments, but far be it from me to marginalize any great nation, and Japan is truly one of the greatest. The story today is a heartwarming one. Toyota, the automotive equivalent of Ebenezer Scrooge or unseasoned lentils, the company that killed off every fun car that it had during the 1990s, shows us that it has a heart buried deep within. Because there are actually two Toyotas, not just one.

Two Toyotas

In the year 2007, Toyota broke a 77-year winning streak when they overtook General Motors as the world's largest automaker. The recall issues and certain quality concerns, not to mention the loss of production associated with the Japanese earthquake and tsunami, have proved enormous hurdles. And yet, Toyota broke a winning streak so long that the only longer one you'll find is in the virtually non-competitive America's Cup of yachting, and as of 2012 Toyota is still on top of the world.

But the cars that made Toyota #1 are not the cars that I want to buy. The Camry and Corolla are offensively bland and thoroughly uninspired to drive, look at, and think about. They have added comfort and quietness where previous small cars were rattly and skateboard-like. In so doing, they have made Americans in particular snobby dullards. Just when we were making some progress in the 70s and 80s in small cars, Toyota comes along and allows Americans to enjoy couches on wheels just like they did before the oil crisis, albeit with nonexistent styling, and high fuel economy and reliability to keep them top sellers. Soulless appliances all, I promise you that not one person, in Japan or America or elsewhere, has ever dreamed a daring thought or done anything exciting or noteworthy while in the process of designing or assembling a Toyota Camry. They sacrificed everything noteworthy about it so that it could sell globally, and give nothing offensive or exciting to buyers of any country.

And that's all well and good if you think of a car as an expensive device that is a practical necessity. Notwithstanding the 10 million cars that they recently recalled, Toyota will still assemble you a perfectly suitable A-to-B machine that should prove reliable and economical. This is the Toyota with which you are familiar. If the name didn't sound Japanese, and it was more generic (like Quality Motors Ltd), you might think it was Korean, or Chinese, or Russian, or even American. There are no culturally identifying cues.

What about the good old days? What if you want a Japanese car that is thoroughly Japanese, something Japanese enough that the Emperor would be chauffeured in one? Something that is not the product of ruthless accounting, a global market philosophy, and California stylists? Something that is not a hybrid of cultures, but goes back to the days when a Japanese car was made for Japan's tastes and these alone? Something of this sort could skirt the precipice of boring appliance and turn into an interesting cultural study as well as a machine that is classy, elegant, and understated. There is a second Toyota, not a globalist cash machine, but one that is interested in serving the enthusiasts of Old World luxury.

There are two Toyotas. The second of these continues to cater to the needs of Japan's traditional luxury car buyers. This part of Toyota makes the only Toyota I would ever consider owning: the Century.

The Toyota Century entered production in 1967 and at the time of its launch, it was not unique as a large Japanese luxury car. The Mitsubishi Debonair in 1964 had started the ball rolling, and the 1965 Nissan President was even better. Nissan, furthermore, was given the tremendous privilege of building the cars for the Royal Household in 1966-1967. The Nissan Prince Royals (six total) were replaced only in 1997, and by this time the Toyota Century was the obvious choice.

However, both the President and the Debonair were available with many engine options, spanning from 2.0L four-pots all the way through inline-6s and a V8 at Nissan. These cars were conservatively styled and pushed all the same buttons, but except for top-line V8 Presidents, they don't have the class as the Century. If the Century was in production at the time that the Royal Family needed to replace their creaky old Rolls-Royce and prewar Mercs, I think it would have gotten the nod.

Let's look at the production history. The Debonair was killed off in 1998, the year after the Century got a refresh that it retains to this day. The President lasted all the way to 2010, but with a measly 4.5 L V8 compared to the Century's absolutely bespoke 5.0 L V12, it's a two-pair against a straight flush. 

Right off the bat, it was exclusive; the Century was V8-only from 1967 until 1997. There was only one engine offered at a time. After a 30-year production run with virtually no changes, they overhauled the design and relaunched it with a V12 engine. Let me cite the superlatives: The first and only V12 from Toyota. The first and only V12 from any Japanese manufacturer. The only V12 still in production for smoothness only, sacrificing power and fuel economy at the same time.

Why is the Century so good?

• It's not made like any other Japanese car

I know, it says Toyota on the badge, but it's not made by Toyota's factories. As productive and innovative as Toyota has been over the years, and as much respect as is warranted to them, something more special is required for a true luxury car.

1967 Toyota Century

Toyota also owns a subsidiary Kanto Auto Works, Ltd. In Japanese style of the time, it was an independent contractor but did all of its work producing Toyotas (the Japanese did not yet practice vertical integration in the automotive field). As of 2012, Kanto is wholly owned by Toyota and was merged with two other contractors, losing its name in the process. Still, the Yokosuka plant which makes the Century is not the same as other Toyotas are built upon.

The cars are largely hand-made at the plant in Yokosuka. The metal for the bodywork is polished before paint even goes onto it. They use substantially more mass of paint; it's comparable to old-school Mercedes-Benz back in the days when those were made like tanks. Kanto Auto Works build every Century to order, so it will be personally yours. At this price point, it's pretty uncommon to see that.

1997 Toyota Century

It's also been utterly unchanged in appearance from 1967 to the present day. Don't believe me? Just try and spot the difference. 1997 was the year of the last redesign. You are looking at a car that you can still buy new today.

Let me give you an analog of developments in Europe, which may be more familiar to American readers. Mercedes-Benz was once, many years ago, merely a specialist luxury car company which sold cars in the hundreds. It fully reinvented itself starting in the 1960s to become a mainstream brand that was known and respected throughout the world, with sales in the millions. On the other hand, Bentley and Rolls-Royce did not modernize and expand in the same way. The Rolls-Royce Phantom is mostly handmade in England by craftsmen who spend 150 hours of labor per vehicle; even if demand were to suddenly skyrocket, they could not ramp up production to meet it. The R-Rs are also substantially more expensive than Mercedes-Benz cars, except the most expensive from that brand. If you'll permit the comparison, Lexus is the Mercedes-Benz of Japan, while the Toyota Century is that country's Rolls-Royce.

• Its name is both sensible and honorable

Sakichi Toyoda (1867-1930)

Century has always used English lettering on the trunk

In America, a multi-brand strategy was essential for the Japanese to conquer new markets. But in Japan it wasn't this way; Toyota is perfectly elastic and it runs the gamut from the tiniest econoboxes to large barges like this. In Japan, Lexus does not exist, and there are merely upscale Toyotas to fill the void. Excellent, I say! Why invent a new brand for your luxury car? Sakichi Toyoda is far from as much of a celebrity as Henry Ford or Soichiro Honda, but he was an influential industrialist in Japanese history nonetheless. This model is called the "Century" because it began production in 1967, exactly one hundred years after the birth of the founder. That is sensible; it brings to mind the prewar designation of Japanese military equipment by the number of years that the current Emperor had been reigning. 

Century is a venerable name for cars. Before Buick ruined the name on a dull FWD midsize, the prewar 1936 Buick Century was quite a special car, using the big Buick straight-8 in a smaller sedan body to give it a top speed of 100 mph (hence the name "century" for 100). That was very fast for a luxury car in the 1930s. Buicks of the time were very well-built cars and Buick engineers were among the most fiercely independent of all the GM staff. The 1950s Century, when it returned, repeated the formula of Buick's most powerful V8 engine in a lighter body, making it an extremely good performer.

• It is as conservative as a 2600-year-old monarchy

There is no shortage of choice for full-size executive cars. In this field already, its similarly-priced competitors include the Mercedes-Benz S-Class, BMW 7-Series, Jaguar XJ, Audi A8, Lexus LS, and I suppose we'll throw in the Volvo S80 and Cadillac XTS for completeness.

The Century has every single one of these vehicles beat when it comes to care and quality of assembly. The aforementioned vehicles are made on largely conventional production lines and cannot be said to be basically hand-made, which can be said about the Century. If you want comparable production methods, you would have to go a few rungs up the ladder and compare it to a Rolls-Royce Phantom, Bentley Mulsanne, or Maybach 62 (no longer in production). Those cars are all above $300,000, so the Toyota Century, under half that price, possesses a certain amount of value. It is a traditionally craftsman-made car with no embellishment over its name and heritage, and for a fair price.

A total of four Century Royals were produced for the Imperial Household Agency. The changes included stretching the wheelbase, adding granite entry steps to the rear passenger compartment, and including Japanese rice paper headlining for the passengers. It is assumed that some additional armor and security measures are in place, but as for US Presidential vehicles, the details have been kept secret.

Toyota Century Royal for the Imperial Household

The target market for the Century, apart from its obvious appeal to the Royal Family and Japanese dignitaries because its inimitable Japanese-ness, is for hardworking executives who have worked for the greatest part of their lives towards honest prosperity. The literature surrounding the car states that "the Century is acquired through persistent work, the sort that is done in a plain but formal suit."

The Toyota Century is usually ordered in exactly the way that preserves this modesty intact. It is typically equipped with lace curtains instead of tinted windows for the backseat passengers. The curtains provide privacy more thoroughly than tinted windows, and are believed to generate less attention. Leather usually means luxury to an American, but to a Japanese buyer the soft creak of the leather seating surface breaks the complete silence that might otherwise be enjoyed, and the smell of leather is not usually considered pleasant to Japanese tastes. The seats in a Century are consequently usually ordered in wool cloth. Colors are theoretically unlimited, because the factory will make any color the buyer requests, but in practice the buyer never intentionally defiles his or her Century with a gaudy paint job, and sticks to conservative black or gray on the outside, with royal blue, black, burgundy, or dark brown interior colors.

There are modern luxury touches, of course. It has massage seats, it has reclining rear seats, and the designers have shown a certain amount of obsessiveness in making the door handles electric, so that the opening of the door has no vulgar mechanical clunk. Thereafter, the doors can be pushed gently to ajar, and the electric motors in the doors will pull them the rest of the way silently.

It's the sort of car so dignified that the chauffeur would avert his eyes when opening the car for the passenger. The Japanese used to believe that their Emperor was God incarnate. If there is a car that is fit for a representative of God on Earth, from a Japanese perspective, the Toyota Century is the obvious choice.

• It has a V12 just for the sake of it

Toyota's sales forecast for the Century never exceeds 200 units per month. Bentley sells more than that! It is almost never exported outside Japan except for their embassies and ambassadors abroad. Their introduction of a V12 engine as a Century exclusive is absolutely jarring. It is unheard of for a mainstream manufacturer to put such lavish investment in a small-selling halo car except for short periods, but Toyota seems committed to indefinite production of the Century as a matter of honor.

1GZ-FE mounted in a Toyota Century

The engine's technical name is 1GZ-FE. It's a 4996cc 48-valve DOHC V12. It was given two ECUs which can each operate on one bank independently, so even if there is a complete failure of one of the banks, the engine can still operate as a straight-6. At the time of the 1997 introduction of this engine, there was an ongoing gentlemen's agreement among all Japanese manufacturers not to quote any of their engines as having more than 276 hp, regardless of what its actual output is. The Century followed in this tradition and was quoted at 276 hp, although for export they revised it to 300 hp, which is considered closer to the "true" value, most likely about 310 hp. It is blessed with ample torque, 481 Nm at peak, with over 400 Nm available at idle. That's the good kind of torque, the effortless and instantly available kind. A well-designed V12 has inherent primary and secondary engine balance that cannot be achieved with a V8. Compared to bigger Mercedes-Benz V12s, the Toyota engine is not very powerful, but that's not why you'd buy this car. You're just going for buttery smoothness, and the big Century delivers.

If you would like to know more technical details about the engine, may I direct you to an excellent article by Philip Bradshaw from New Zealand.

There is a certain old Lexus LS commercial that shows a large stack of champagne glasses on the hood of a Lexus as it accelerates on a dynamometer. The engine is so smooth and the gear changes so unnoticeable that the glasses are not perturbed at all. I would very much like to see how a Century V12 would fare. In fact, you could stack them directly on top of the engine and I bet it would do just as well. But this is an academic question, since Century buyers probably do not care to see such silly, vulgar stunts.

Toyota shows it has a soul deep down. They must have known they would never break even on the development costs of the V12 unless it was amortized among more car lines. They must have done a cost analysis and figured out that it didn't make good business sense unless the car was priced in the Rolls-Royce realm, making it a largely unreachable aspiration for the honest, persistent businessmen in plain but formal suits. And yet it was not made more expensive. It is not so stratospherically expensive that few could aspire to own one. To buy one in dollars would cost approximately $110,000. It is somewhat more expensive than a Lexus LS600h, and less expensive than many Mercedes-Benzes.

Toyota developed a lovely, smooth, docile, unique V12 just for this vehicle so as to retain its pride as Japan's most coveted state vehicle. And while it's expensive, they did not price it into the realm of fantasy. It's downright patriotic.

• It is the anti-Lexus... from the folks who brought you Lexus

Japan's automakers started off with cheap offerings in the US, but as they gained acceptance, they sought to turn their compact owners into buyers who would be happy to grow into Japanese luxury car buyers.

The problem is that luxury cars are very rare in Japanese history. There was very little motorization in Japan before WWII and it was broadly agreed that cars were not a necessity for civilians. The American oversight of Japan's recovery in the period 1946-1955 reversed this trend completely, and Japan started motorization from the bottom upwards. They did not start, as in Europe and the United States, with a handful of craftsmen producing very expensive cars for the wealthy of their country and across the world. They had basically a fresh start after WWII. Japan started the 1950s with a large demand for cheap, efficient personal transportation. It was originally met with motorbikes, but as the prosperity grew, the Japanese people started to demand cars at all levels of income. But at the top, the wealthy had few choices of true luxury vehicles unless they imported something from outside Japan.

If we ignore the Century and its ilk (and for now we will) the Japanese did not mount a mainstream offensive in the export luxury market until the 1980s. They realized that a multi-brand approach, as had been pioneered by GM and others, was superior to having all models under one brand. But they also did not want to push Japanese culture in their cars, and they thought that the President and Century would simply not sell in the US. So with that in mind, Honda launched Acura and Toyota launched Lexus. Nissan followed suit with Infiniti. The smaller brands like Mazda could not afford to create an entirely new division, but it did try to match the large car segment with its ill-fated 929. With the game changed, and Americans and the rest of the world ready to buy Japanese cars at all levels of the market, Mazda and other single-brand stalwarts like Suzuki and Subaru fell behind their diversified Japanese competitors as the US and larger world market for Japanese cars grew in the 1990s and beyond. 

Speaking nothing about the engineering excellence of these luxury brands, I take issue with the very names they have. Acura means nothing; it is an invented word and the criteria they used to invent it were shady marketing tricks. Likewise, Lexus was a meaningless name created simply because it sounds prosperous and slick to an upper-middle class American businessman. The innate luxury of a Lexus springs from technology only, and its heritage is as fake and cynical as a hooker's smile. You pay for something that really wants you to like it and be satisfied, but you are not a part of anything greater. No piece of history was ever written by a Lexus. It was a car planned by greedy businessmen using a Powerpoint presentation, with huge dollops of fake enthusiasm, and it was worked into production by indifferent assemblers who had no particular attachment to the Lexus brand. The existence of Lexus is a wound to car fanatics who like to think that our particular field of interest is unsullied by such crass examples of soulless consumerism. I laud Lexus for its impressive engineering, but as a brand I could never warm up to it.

If you buy a Century in preference to a Lexus, you are not trying to show off your wealth, but you are enjoying it nevertheless. A Century will get you noticed, but from a smaller section of the population, and mainly by those who appreciate quality and value. I mean value in a traditional sense implying that spending as much as one can afford to get the finest work of an expert craftsman is superior to skimping and buying a subpar product. I don't mean value in the vulgar sense of simply being cheap compared to competitors. In that field, a Lexus is somewhat better value, and really a full-spec Toyota Camry should be best. But neither of those are special, and the Century is.

Hall of Fame inclusion criteria

It is uncommon that I want to give a shout-out to vehicles or other pieces of technology that are still in current production. But, if you've been following, the Hall of Fame main criterion is that this must be under-appreciated, and the Century definitely is. You may not want to import one, you might say it's ridiculous that anyone would. You can say it's ugly if you don't have an eye for old classics, you can say it's outdated and the dash looks like a 1985 Mercury Grand Marquis. You can say all that stuff, but this is a special vehicle that is out of the ordinary and it deserves your respect. For how much effort goes into building it, is worth every yen. It's a reminder that Japan wasn't always so obsessed with tech that they forgot the philosophical experience of car ownership. When this thing goes out of production, it will be a very sad day for the state of the world's motor industry, even if it is not reported by news agencies outside Japan.

Hall of Fame #2: IBM Model M Keyboard

My desktop. The monitor's size is 23", to give a sense of scale.

Here it is, the grand-daddy of all keyboards. You should still recognize it, even if it looks a little cartoonishly big. If the clip art on your computer is old enough, and if there is an icon of a keyboard, it probably looks like this. Just like the "three box" approach is used to generate rough sketches of a generic car, the beige rectangular slab is used to generate a rough sketch of a keyboard.

The Model M is the exemplar of beige rectangular slabs. And what's wrong with beige? I wish I could get new monitors in beige. I wish that Antec sold brand new cases in beige. Beige will represent quality to me for a long time to come.

This design first saw the light of day in 1985, smack dab in the middle of IBM's glory days in the PC market. By the mid-90s, IBM had been overtaken by Compaq, and it would eventually slip to a measly fourth place by the turn of the millennium. IBM exited the PC market altogether in 2005. Their original base had long since abandoned them, and the new computers were basically conventional, with no unique features.

Actually, even the original IBM PC was not very unique. It used largely off-the-shelf equipment and it was not a proprietary design; all vendors could make accessories, software, and add-ons for it. This was the true revelation that let the original 1981 PC immediately gobble up a big chunk of the market. IBM's main claim to the design was the BIOS, and the fact that they got Microsoft to work with them on it. But during the rest of the decade, IBM would clutch at straws and try to get a bigger piece of the unexpectedly big pie. They failed at every measure.

When Microsoft saw the IBM ship of state sinking, they dumped them, and let IBM go it alone with their disastrous OS/2. In the meantime, Microsoft launched Windows. The other great rationalization of the market was that Intel, which originally invented the microprocessor in 1971, had used their 8086 as original equipment in the 1981 PC, and this was the springboard for their iron-fisted x86 domination of the CPU market. Between Windows and Intel, there was a de facto standard put into place; by 1987, "Wintel" was 85% of the marketplace for home computers, and it would go well above 90% in the 1990s.

IBM was known for great keyboards at least as early as the excellent Selectric typewriter from 1961. And in the 1980s, it was still desirable to produce a keyboard that produced the same kind of tactile feedback as a typewriter. That's the design philosophy of the Model M. And people loved it. The keyboard was actually one of the main selling points of the IBM PC. When IBM made their uninspired PC, Jr. it was a terrible flop, in no small part because it had a crummy, cheaper keyboard.

But let me finally get to the point- why is this keyboard so legendary that you still see it in use on aficionado desktops worldwide, long after the original IBM PCs and monitors have become worm food?

Behold the reasons!

• Technology. The IBM Model M uses buckling springs, which functions just like it sounds. There is a spring inside each key, and when pressed, it will be forced downwards and at an angle until it "buckles", in which case the hammer underneath will strike an electrical contact that registers the keystroke. The spring is not strictly necessary for this process, and is universally absent from modern keyboards (except Unicomp, which makes legacy Model Ms and some updated versions). The effect of the spring is to provide tactile feedback; it feels "clicky" and robust.

• Build quality. This is a solid product that will last for decades and some. The 1990 keyboard that you see in the picture was not nearly the most expensive one available, but it's in cream puff condition. The hardware is all tough, heavy, and mechanical; it simply won't break in normal use, ever.  The IBM Model M weighs over 5 lb and it's absolutely the last thing on your desktop that is likely to slide about. Its footprint is huge and so it's a poor choice for tiny desks, but if you are a serious typist, you absolutely must make the space for a keyboard this good. The heft of this keyboard is sufficient that you could use it to beat someone to death. Or you could probably split a tinny-ass Macbook LCD screen in half with one wallop.

• Ease of longevity. Not only was it made to last, it's made to be easy to keep going. If you have dirty keycaps, all of them are removable and can be cleaned with soapy water. The base can be cleaned. The top of the case can be cleaned. Each part of the keyboard is designed for disassembly. Even the screws and nuts are decently robust; certainly, they're a far cry from the "mystery metal" 10,000/$1 pieces of Chinese hardware we have seen flood all newer appliances.

• Place of assembly. I don't mean to keep banging on about it, but the fact that this keyboard was made in the USA means something to me. That tells me it was produced in a factory where the workers could earn enough of a living to own their homes at some point, and have health insurance, and raise kids. 

• Value. Yes, I'm aware that the Chinese can make keyboards that are cheap enough to sneak into the Dollar Store. They can still make a keyboard for an on-shelf price of $5, which is probably less than a big American company like IBM would spend simply on the employee insurance per keyboard. But quality still matters, and cheap keyboards are a false economy for all the headaches with sticky, rubbery keys. You will still spend $20 at minimum for a rugged keyboard that will cope well with demanding typists. And at that price, you're getting very close to the used IBM Model M anyway, which can be found on ebay for as low as $25. And if you do buy a keyboard with all the bells and whistles anyway, it's highly probable you'll be spending closer to $100, which is enough to get you a brand new Unicomp Model M with all the quality and strength of the original IBM design. Actually, given how satisfying, reliable, and long-lasting the Model M has been for many people (including me), it truly is a bargain that no other manufacturer can touch.

Other notes:

1. I cannot afford a brand-new Unicomp, but somebody has to buy them new or else the market will simply vanish. We can't go on the old IBM/Lexmark batch forever. So if you are considering a new high-end keyboard, give 'em a shot.
2. If you think desktops are outdated, go soak your head. And then leave a comment telling me how much you spent on your laptop and what it can do compared to my homemade $600 desktop.
3. A clumsy ex-girlfriend once spilled a glass of water on my keyboard. It immediately malfunctioned and I assumed that it was toast, that there sure would be fatal short circuits. Actually, I tilted it to the side, the water drained out, and I hung it over the sink to dry. When it was dry, it worked perfectly fine again. I find that absolutely astonishing for a 22-year-old piece of equipment.
4. This piece of hardware was appreciated when new, but it meets the Hall of Fame criterion of under-appreciation by today's standards because few people still know about it. And it remains relevant! Buy one today, it's still the best!

Hall of Fame #1: 1971 Buick Riviera

As an aside, allow me to introduce my "Hall of Fame" feature. The notion here is to pay tribute to a certain design that meets the following criteria:

1. Design must have been under-appreciated in my opinion, either now or when released.
2. Automotive topics will be given preference, but other designs may be considered.
3. Design may be classic or contemporary.
4. Designs of all nations will be considered, but it is likely I will focus more on American designs.

I will then attempt to analyze the cultural, technological and historical (if it is classic) effects of the design. I do not attempt to be evenhanded. My opinions will taint these pages regardless of any attempts I make to correct for them. However, if you think you can actually read anything apart from raw data without seeing opinions or point of view, I have a very nice bridge in Brooklyn that you might be interested in buying.

Let me try to give you an allegory. The American car industry from the dawn of the 1949 OHV V8 to the shameful redesigns of 1977-1979 is like a roller coaster ride. From 1949 to 1961 we weren't looking at too much in the way of sheer performance. Relative to the tepid six-cylinder cars of before, the early V8s in c. 1955 were certainly exciting, but this is so subjective, I'd say it's akin to Amish people claiming a roller coaster is exciting even when going slowly in a straight line. Compared to a horse-drawn carriage, they're right. But this is such a myopic overall picture that I'm not very interested in 1950s performance. I am somewhat a fan of 1950s styling, but I find '60s styling to be greatly superior.

We had some exceptions, of course. Chrysler's best Hemi engines were definitely potent in the 1950s. But the 1955 300, capable as it was of over 130 mph, was incredibly expensive, rare, and not very visually impressive to my eyes. They got better with the 300C in 1957 (coinciding with the excellent Forward Look styling motif) but I've simply never been that interested in Chrysler. Sorry, fanboys.

In '61 we had the first performance big-block from Chevrolet: the 409. Immortalized in Beach Boys song, this was a beastly engine in any application. Let's say this is the first bit of turbulence on the ride. Then in 1964 with the GTO the floodgates were opened; this is when the coaster has crested and is coming down the final, biggest peak on the ride. It picks up speed. We're looking at the brutish mid-60s flurry of muscle cars. We progress through the Charger and the Chevelle SS and the Boss Mustangs and end probably with the 1970 Camaro Z/28, lacking a big block but probably with the best performance of them all.

If you aren't a fan of big, long American cruising machines, you've probably been given a bad taste in your mouth from sources that shouldn't have been allowed access to this kind of emotional response from you. Yes, I know about "donks" and "pimpmobiles" and all of the stupid trends in automotive customization. It makes me weep to see another good Caprice or Roadmaster ruined. But this shouldn't taint your opinion of the original cars. Repeat after me: longer, lower, wider. When the originals are given a standard suspension and 14" or 15" wheels, as they originally had when new, they look immediately classy. When they keep all their original trim and chrome, and are given a realistic paint color (not gloss metallic green or purple), they look instantly respectable and imposing. At least, that's how I feel about it.

This has nothing to do with black or white culture. Remember that when new, all Americans were like this, and that's what all Americans drove at the time. I don't care if most classic Impalas seem to be bought up for use in rap videos. And just because I'm white doesn't mean I'm crazy about pickup trucks or imported cars.

Original 1964 Buick Riviera. This will not be the subject of a Hall of Fame post because it is VERY highly appreciated.

The Riviera was always a stunner from the moment it came out in 1964. It was staggeringly pretty in profile, and this was backed up by a good Buick interior, loads of nifty options, and relatively good performance. Internationally it might be more revered than domestically; we Americans tend to prefer those designs with more chrome and some fussy exterior touches, but the clean lines of the Riviera were appreciated by foreign audiences as an exemplar of what was good about American design. But who cares what the Europeans think? In my mind, the best was yet to come.

 Thing is, going back to the analogy, when it's 1970 on your roller coaster ride, it's already flat. You're traveling on built-up inertia of speed. There is nothing that causes you to go faster; very soon you start to appreciate the speed is diminishing.  If we want to accurately model the American car industry, we might need to put some kind of governor or speed hill in the coaster at about 1972-1974. Far from slowing down gradually, the ride was jarringly braked to a virtual standstill relative to how fast it had previously moved.


What's the consolation when performance goes out the window? Luxury comes into style. How convenient that the crop of early 1970s cars were so perfectly designed to look imposing and imperial at low speed. I am not a fan of 1970s performance (is anyone, really?) but for the early part of the decade, I like the styling that was going on. You can find very poor exemplars of this era, like the Stutz Blackhawk.

Or you could look at a good exemplar, like the 1971-1973 Buick "boattail" Riviera. When Buick put together a new Riviera for the 70s, they correctly predicted that bigness is in style, and that a luxurious appearance was crucial.


Performance was rarely a strong point of Buicks, but they had shown at decade's end that they could use their 455 big-block to pep up the Buick Gran Sport. In GSX form, with 360 hp and 510 ft-lb of tire-shredding torque, this is considered one of the fastest-ever muscle cars, although extremely rare and expensive. Just a few hundred of them were made. Selling something this raucous would always be a little unusual for Buick dealers, who normally peddled semi-posh boats to moderately successful, wrinkly old men and women.

It was actually a very auspicious time for a new Riviera, because on the power front they had access to the highly potent Buick 455 big-block. As I just explained, it was one of the truly potent motors of the age. Unfortunately, it was down to 255 net hp in the standard car by 1971, 265 with Gran Sport option. This dropped to 225 hp (with 250 in the Gran Sport) for 1972. Then for 1973, in opposition to the wholesale surrender around them, Buick engineers conquered some more power from their detuned V8, resulting in standard 250 hp for that year.

Sounds pretty bad, especially in a car weighing 4300 lb. But actually it wasn't bad at all. By mid-decade, very few engines were even breaking the 200-hp mark. Buick's rival car from Ford, the Lincoln Mk IV, laughably rated at 365 gross horsepower in 1972, was actually down to a flaccid 212 hp by 1973 under net measurements, and it would get worse in subsequent years. Performance in the big Riv was among the best full-size coupes of the decade. Doing 0-60 in 8.5 seconds was not bad in a car weighing over two tons, especially for the Seventies.

Another great advantage was that this car could have the design flair of 60's GM stylists without yet coming up against the monstrous black 5-mph bumpers that tended to ruin all cars in 1974 and later years. This design flows from the pen of a pre-embargo optimist, and betrays no second thoughts, apologies, or subtleties. This car is not downsized, federalized, or internationalized in any way. It is simply old-school American design allowed to run free. Look at the side view and see how the dip in the door is turned upwards with a neatly flowing kink that matches the bulging rear fender. It's practically perfect. The front end is handsome without being over-the-top aggressive like most muscle cars.

Best design feature of all was the evocative "boat-tail" rear end. Reminiscent of the gorgeous Auburn 851 Speedster of the 1930s and the Corvette Sting Ray in 1963-1967, in my opinion there has never been a better place for such a rear end than on the big Riviera. Although the designers balked at the corporate decision to increase the width and length of their original design while still using the same body panels, the final result looks as though it was always intended that way.

The most depressing thing about the design was that Americans simply did not appreciate it. It still sold moderately, riding on the coattails of previous models, but the styling tended to put off traditional Buick buyers who would have traded up to a Riviera if it had simply been more conservative. Ironically, if they had been this conservative in the 1964 when the first Riviera had been released, even that stunner might not have gotten off the ground.

If you ever see one of these on the road or parked, it's a chance to remind yourself that they once really did make cars 19 feet long with only two doors. And that there was a time when someone bought a new car knowing it would only carry one or two people, and yet deliver 8 mpg. Think of how much it hurts the current owner's wallet to fill up that tank at $3.70 per gallon. Please doff your hat to the person driving it. That owner is sacrificing quite a lot in order to have that style displayed in front of your eyes.

I would like to own something like this, but it's so nostalgic that even a guy as old-fashioned as me cannot relate. I wouldn't have space to park it, and I can't afford $150 a week on gasoline. But if you're braver than me, tidy examples of this car are available for under 10 grand. And for less than the price of any number of garden-variety 1967 Camaros or Mustangs with base V8s, you could have a cream puff big-block boat-tail Riviera with a much nicer interior and all the options. The Camaro might be slightly prettier, but not by much, and that's saying a lot.

This is a rare example of contemporary reviewers gushing over the '72 Riv. But it's mainly about performance and luxury, not looks. Oh well. Yet more reasons that this was a pretty great car.