Original interior 1975 GMC Jimmy High Sierra for sale on Hemmings.com. From the seller's description:
127K factory original miles on the numbers matching engine. I was told it was 27K, but I had my doubts and I actually lean towards it being 127K due to my knowledge of these vehicles. It is immaculate for 127K SUV from 1975!!!
This GMC lived in Arizona and Minneapolis before I brought it to Iowa. It was pampered and has had 1 repaint in its original color. The paint job is 9 out of 10. The paint and interior are a very rare combination and there are many rare options like a tachometer and factory sliding glass windows in the topper.
It has the original numbers matching engine, very rare/original seats, carpet, steering wheel, dash and top. The wheels were replaced, and the radio was replaced, but sounds really good...
This GMC is rust free, the engine fires up on the first turn, no blue smoke, drives straight (no pull), all windows roll up and down smooth, the interior is in amazing condition 9 out of 10. The only two detractors is there is one crack in the dash and the carpet is a little faded (I assume they had the carpet cleaned, thus causing the fading).
The Jimmy has working/AM/FM casette/radio, no cracks in the windshield, AC, the 4X4 engages, the factory lines are straight, the doors hang correctly (no sag) and the transmission shifts smoothly.
The Jimmy has a clean/clear title in my name, and it has been stored in a climate-controlled garage every day since I owned it.
1975 GMC Jimmy
See more GMCs for sale on Hemmings.com.
I had been into cars since childhood, so this was a magical job. I was part of a crew of six or seven that worked for tips, and we wore orange coverall uniforms so that we were easily seen at night. We routinely parked and returned more than 400 cars on a busy Saturday, with parties in the afternoon and then again at night, together with public dining.
Jockeying cars for position in shrinking lanes during return rush times made me a better and more precise driver. Another benefit was that I developed a higher appreciation for well-designed dashboards, budding smart controls, and quality upholstery. I preferred gauges to warning lamps, and I intensely disliked the flashing green and yellow dashboard fuel economy indicators that seemed unwelcome in luxury cars. The only way to make the annoying indicator stay green was to coast.
As a crew, we elbowed each other to park the hot imports, such as BMW’s 2002, Datsun’s Z variants, the first Honda Accords, Toyota Celicas, and less frequently, Volkswagen Sciroccos. These were all well-equipped, light, quick, and easy to park. It was also possible to shift them into higher gears for test drives by taking the long way around to the lower back lot. As far as I knew, none of us ever got a Porsche 911 out of second. Our boss knew the joyride risk, so we had to keep numbered dashboard tickets in sequence for assigned spaces that discouraged long drives around the property.
Photo: Hemmings Archives
I have many fond memories of the job. To start, the things people left in their vehicles were nothing short of amazing. There were open bills with private information in plain view, and mail of every other conceivable variety, as well as checkbooks, laundry, arts, and crafts in all stages of non-completion, sticky food wrappers, and other trash. I also quickly learned that a tip amount didn’t always correspond to the expense or condition of the car after one guest left a caged guinea pig in his 1967 Pontiac Le Mans when he arrived late for a wedding reception. Aside from needing to be washed and vacuumed, that car was quite fragrant. It was a dry day, so I lowered the side windows, and we took turns checking the pet as we ran to and from other vehicles. Later, the guest told me he was glad the party was over and was eager to reunite the guinea pig with his young daughter. Having noticed us checking on the pet, the car owner gave me the biggest tip I ever got to fetch a car.
Another unusual thing happened while parking a 1975 Buick LeSabre sedan. Two people got out and went inside for dinner and as I got in immediately noticed the aroma of freshly baked bagels emanating from two gigantic bags that took most of the rear seat, nearly reaching the headliner. After parking the car, I was spooked by a low voice from the far-right of the back seat that asked, “Howee doin’?” I had not seen the slight fellow partially hidden by one of the tall bags, and all I could ask was if he intended to go inside. He said he didn’t want a fancy dinner, just a nap. He offered bagels to the entire crew, which were delicious, and stayed in the car and slept for two hours.
Rare cars would roll up on occasion, including one almost everyone guessed was a Maserati, though I recognized it as a Facel Vega. The exhaust growl of the Chrysler Hemi V-8 was positively rhapsodic, and the grand tourer had polished wood throughout its interior. We parked it in a special spot on an outer aisle near the front door and overheard customers speculate what it was while waiting for their own cars. When the tweedy owner eventually came out, my boss, Ray, was determined to sound smart and amuse himself. He conspicuously and formally signaled, “Christopher, the Facel Vega, please.” Seeing where we placed his pride and joy, the owner gleamed. He may have enjoyed that moment more than his dinner.
Another story involved a regular customer’s Cadillac Seville during lunch hour, when Ray often let me work alone so he could get a break. Two County Sheriff’s detectives stopped to tell me they were looking for two inmates who had escaped from the local penitentiary wearing–what else–orange coveralls. They were last seen running on the neighboring golf course. Of course, we always left keys in the ignition of parked cars. The detectives asked how many cars remained from lunch, and whether I could account for each. To my dismay, the Cadillac (one of only three cars left in my charge) was gone! The owner was very classy when the detectives needed his license plate number and unselfishly said he was glad I had not run into the thieves. Luckily for me, the car was recovered unscratched at a nearby shopping center, but we never heard if the thieves were caught.
I rarely drove a car onto the open road, but one exception was a permanent resident’s 1976 Rolls Royce Silver Shadow. The luminous dark red sedan was overdue for its annual state inspection and the owner’s wife “volunteered” me to drive it to the inspection station in the next town. The engine was so quiet and vibration-free that I had to concentrate to hear it. The interior was beautifully appointed with the finest leather I had ever seen or touched. Intuitive controls were set in burled walnut. In my opinion the steering wheel was somewhat primitive and too hard for an ultra-luxury auto, but it was a minor nitpick since the car was a magic carpet. It literally floated when put in drive. As expected, there were no buzzes, squeaks, or rattles. It handled well and predictably with adequate road feel, despite its considerable weight. Power came immediately at the slightest touch, suggesting ample reserve, and the Rolls-Royce stopped on a dime.
Photo: Hemmings Archives
Admittedly, I was very nervous driving it, even when it seemed other drivers stayed out of the way once I reached a multi-lane avenue. The inspection station was in a not-so-nice area on a narrow, bumpy street, and being near closing time the station was busy. I had to get in a line that snaked around the block and all I could do was hope nobody hit the darn thing.
As I crawled to the entrance, the inspection staff was laughing and pointing at me, still wearing my orange coveralls: “Hey kid, how did you get out of jail and where did you get that car?” Fortunately, my uniform sported a company crest. Seeking mercy, I said it was the boss’ car. Then the Rolls failed its emissions test. Adding to the insult, the dented, oxidized Volkswagen Beetle behind me passed with flying colors. In those days, a sticker with a big red circle signifying failure was affixed to the windshield’s lower left corner. You couldn’t miss it.
I finally relaxed when I pulled the Silver Shadow into the familiar driveway without incident. To my surprise, the owner’s wife was happy to see that the car failed, because now she could get it tuned up without further debate. Apparently, her husband was always working and neglected his cars. We were reminded of that later when we had to jump the battery in his seldom-driven Jaguar XJ12. The next time I saw the Rolls it had a proper inspection sticker.
After parking cars for eighteen months, I transferred inside to become a bartender as my college days progressed. I missed handling the cars, but not enduring cold winter nights or donning those orange coveralls. Over the years I have almost always insisted on parking my own car, but when valet parking is unavoidable, particularly in a city, I tip in advance. It’s remarkable how a few dollars will often gain a spot close to the attendant’s booth, sometimes with a safety cone next to our car.
Courtesy of Pat Foster
One of the first products of the Mitchell Motor Car Company was the small runabout seen here. Although the photo is identified as a 1903 model it appears to be of later vintage, possibly 1904/1905.
The Mitchell saga began in 1838 when Scottish immigrant Henry Mitchell moved to Kenosha, Wisconsin, and established the Mitchell Wagon Company, a manufacturer that became known as "The first wagon maker of the Northwest." Successful almost from the start, in 1854 Mitchell moved his business to larger quarters in nearby Racine. It continued to expand and in time son-in-law William Lewis joined the company. Lewis eventually headed the firm and changed its name to Mitchell & Lewis Wagon Company. During the Gay Nineties, Mitchell & Lewis established another business, the Wisconsin Wheel Works, to produce bicycles, and for a while was manufacturing light motorcycles too. Thus,established in the transportation field, the idea of producing automobiles was the next logical step.
In a major change of company direction, Wisconsin Wheel Works sold its bicycle business and was succeeded by the Mitchell Motor Car Company, a subsidiary of the Mitchell-Lewis Wagon Company. The former’s first models were two small runabouts: one powered by a 7-hp, single-cylinder two-stroke engine, the other by a 4-hp, four-stroke single. Reportedly, sales were modest, despite prices that began at a mere $600 for the 4-hp model. It seems the company initially had difficulty reaching high-volume production due to problems acquiring sufficient parts and components, but when resolved sales quickly improved.
For 1904 a new 7-hp two-cylinder runabout on a 72-inch wheelbase chassis, and a 16-hp four-cylinder touring model on a 90-inch wheelbase, replaced the previous one-lungers. The two-passenger runabout was priced at $750, while the five-passenger touring car started at $1,500.
Courtesy of Pat Foster
Mitchell’s 1910 cars were priced from $1,100 to $2,000. The company said of its car, “It is rakish, smart, refined, solid, comfortable and luxurious. It is silent in running – absolutely silent – and it will last and serve you faithfully for years to come.”
In the years that followed Mitchell cars grew bigger and more powerful. In 1906 a 24/30-hp five-passenger, 100-inch wheelbase Model D-4 Touring car joined the expanded line-up priced at $1,800. The company reportedly sold 663 cars that year. For 1907 Mitchell offered three distinct series: the Model E, a 20-hp two-passenger Runabout on a 90-inch wheelbase; the Model D 24/30-hp five-passenger 100-inch wheelbase Touring; and the Model F seven-passenger Touring on a 108-inch wheelbase. Prices ranged from $1,000 to $2,000 and total sales more than doubled.
By 1910, Mitchell was offering five models: two- and three-passenger runabouts and a Runabout Surrey in the Model R series, each powered by a 30-hp four-cylinder engine and priced at $1,100; and two touring cars, a 30-hp four-cylinder Model T for $1,350, and a 50-hp six-cylinder Model S priced at a lofty $2,000. That year’s sales totaled 5,733 units. (There was even a jaunty little song titled "Give Me a Spin in Your Mitchell, Bill,” a recording of which can still be found on the internet.) The same year, Lewis retired, and Mitchell Motor Car Company and Mitchell & Lewis merged to form the Mitchell-Lewis Motor Company with Lewis’s son,William Mitchell Lewis, named president.
In 1912 a stylish $2,500 four-cylinder Limousine joined a line-up that included a budget-priced 25-hp Runabout for $950 and an $1,150 Touring car, both of which used a four-cylinder engine and a 100-inch wheelbase chassis. Also available was a $1,350 four-cylinder Touring, while a Model 5-6 34-hp Baby Six Touring and Roadster were available on a 125-inch wheelbase, each costing $1.750. Finally, there was a big seven-passenger Model 7-6 six-cylinder Touring on a regal 135-inch wheelbase for $2,250. Sales for the year were 5,145 cars.
Courtesy of Pat Foster
The Mitchell line of six-cylinder cars for 1917 saw lower prices, with the Mitchell seven-passenger priced at $1,460 and the Mitchell Junior priced at $1,150.
Unfortunately, sales were just 3,087 cars in 1913 and William M Lewis left the firm to start a new company building the so-called Lewis car. Banker Joseph Winterbottom took over as president and the firm was reorganized as the Mitchell Motors Company. Only 3,500 Mitchells were sold in 1914, perhaps a result of the company’s emphasis on higher-priced models. For 1915 new lower-priced Light Four and Light Six models seemed just the thing to spark a revival, and some 6,174 Mitchells were sold that year.
Mitchell sales manager Otis Friend then took over as president. Believing that offering more cylinders was the way to go, for 1916 the company dropped its four-cylinder models in favor of value-priced six- and eight-cylinder cars. It was the right move; sales climbed to 9,589 units, its highest total yet.
The company continued to flourish, selling 10,069 cars in 1917, but in ‘18 Otis Friend left to start his own car company in Pontiac, Michigan. Replacing him was formerGeneral Electric executive D.C. Durland. Things initially went well, and by 1919, Mitchell prices ranged from $1,275 to $2,850; some 10,100 cars were sold. While the company was profitable, it seems management might have been feeling over-confident because for ‘20 it was decided new Mitchells would feature unique styling touches to help them stand out.
Sedans boasted unusual vee'd windshields, with a prominent forward-placed center post supporting angled side panes, and cowls featured a forward sweep on each side, very much in the style of expensive custom-built cars. The angle of the sweep didn’t match the angle of the windshield post, which gave the closed cars a slightly odd appearance. The biggest styling feature, one that was impossible to ignore, was a radiator that tilted back at a noticeable angle. Print advertisements bragged that "Future styling trends…" were "Forecasted by the new Mitchell design." Ads claimed, "These new Mitchell Sixes bring to motoring America its first accurate example of the coming style [and].... viewed from any angle–from inside or out - the effect is impressive."
Courtesy of Pat Foster
The 1920 Mitchell Touring car, to my eyes, looks a bit sporty with its sweptback radiator shell, but many buyers didn’t like it.
Looking at the 1920 Mitchells today it’s difficult to see any big styling problem. In fact, on Touring models the sweptback radiator adds to the sporty appeal, at least in my opinion. But on closed cars the different lines and angles of the split vee-d windshield post, cowl sweeps, and radiator shell offer too much visual conflict. Apparently, they must have seemed even more at odds with convention then because the ’20 models soon earned the nickname “The Drunken Mitchells.”
Pundits love to poke fun, so "The Drunken Mitchell” sobriquet stuck. It’s easy to guess what happened next. Sales fell 36 percent, with the slump worsening in 1921 when a mere 2,162 cars were sold, this even after a hasty restyle. The ’22 model year was about the same. Then in 1923 Mitchell sales collapsed entirely and only about 100 cars were sold. The company had come to the end of the line. Despite a history going back more than 80 years, Mitchell was gone by the end of 1923.
One company benefitted from Mitchell’s demise. In January 1924, the Nash Motors Company of Kenosha, needing more production capacity, acquired the Mitchell plant for $405,000.
Trending
