Surrounded by controversy, 1974-’76 Bricklin SV-1 was a cleverly conceived sports car
Safety First
03/04/2020
For decades, the concept of automotive safety—the ability of a vehicle's occupants to survive a crash—was something treated very gingerly by automakers, which feared discussion of this topic might infer their cars were ill-handling or otherwise defective. It was also largely ignored by the buying public, until the 1965 publication of Unsafe at Any Speed shocked the American government into regulatory action.
In the early 1970s, building Experimental Safety Vehicles (ESV) for research and auto show display was a popular theme with automakers around the globe, and it seemed the topic had finally reached widespread acceptance. It was into that environment that a young entrepreneur launched his unique new sports car, which lit off with a firework's bright energy, and just as quickly, fizzled out.
Orlando, Florida, is where an ambitious 21-year-old college dropout named Malcolm Bricklin founded a home-improvement hardware store franchise in 1960; he would sell his interest in that business, dubbed Handyman, for a substantial profit a few years later, and get his real first taste of success. Bricklin's next project brought him into the transportation world, when he sold leftover Italian motor scooters to the City of New York Police Department; with assistance from partner Harvey Lamm, he would create Fuji Heavy Industries' beachhead into the American automotive marketplace with the 1968 establishment of Subaru of America.
While Subaru is a major player in the U.S. today, this company's first steps were tentative; the charmingly awkward, 960-pound model 360 microcar Bricklin and Lamm were able to import—it was exempt from current safety and emissions regulations due to its sub-1,000-pound curb weight—got a negative Consumer Reports review that largely dried up sales. The partners convinced the Japanese automaker to follow the 360 over here with its more conventional, front-wheel-drive 1100 "FF-1," which found a ready market. Bricklin left Subaru of America in 1971, taking with him some unsold 360s that he sought to market as rentable go-karts on closed tracks through a franchise he called "FasTrack." It was the development of damage-resistant replacement go-kart bodies to house those Subaru 360 mechanical components that sparked an idea for the young man's eponymous car company.
Bricklin was undoubtedly aware of the contemporary ESV trend, encouraged by the U.S. Department of Transportation, that would result in forward-thinking, passive restraint-filled concepts from General Motors, British Leyland, Mercedes- Benz, Volvo, Volkswagen, and others. Those Subaru 360 replacement bodies had come about through a collaboration with Meyers Manx dune buggy inventor Bruce Meyers, who had expertise in working with a resilient plastic composite. And in that, Bricklin found his vehicle's unique selling proposition: It would be a "safety" sports car.
Bricklin tasked Meyers with designing a 2+2 that used a 96-inch wheelbase and a 1,600-cc four-cylinder Datsun 510 drivetrain; this car would sport retractable headlamps and the scene-stealing vertical-opening doors that had made such a splash on Mercedes-Benz's racing derived 300 SL nearly 20 years earlier. The safety aspect of the car came from its large, impact-absorbing bumpers, which were planned to resist damage at up to 25 mph (and would succeed up to a still-impressive 12 mph in later testing), as well as from the unique skin that covered its steel perimeter frame with integral roll cage. As proven with the Subaru track cars, that body would be very durable, thanks to its exterior panels made of fiberglass-bonded, color-impregnated acrylic plastic, a no-painting- required, low-maintenance material commonly used in prefabricated bathroom fixtures.
This design work proved challenging—it was reported that Bricklin and Meyers relationship grew strained due to Bricklin's evolving requirements—and a young, Art Center-trained designer, Marshall Hobarts, was tapped to render the exterior styling for the sleek car. Hobarts' illustration provided the styling concept for an initial prototype, commonly called the Gray Car or Gray Ghost, fabricated for the entrepreneur by noted custom car builder Dick Dean. This was not production ready as it stood, but that basically functional display piece was useful as a sales tool to attract financing, and was the first product of the newly formed Bricklin Vehicle Corporation.
Working out of his Romulus, Michigan studio, veteran Chrysler and Ford designer Herb Grasse with was tasked with turning that idea into a realistic form, starting with the creation of a more practically styled clay model of a two-seat sports car with a useful, large rear hatch. Grasse would work closely with Ford body engineer Garth Dewey and race car chassis builder Tom Monroe, along with a selection of hired clay modelers, designers, and technicians. The period when this concept was being turned into a workable automobile was a hectic, fascinating one, Grasse told author Wick Humble in the SV-1 driveReport that ran in Special Interest Autos #68, April 1982: "During this three-month period, we had some very interesting people stop by: Paul Newman was involved, he was a friend of Malcolm's. Another was John DeLorean—and this was well prior to any De Lorean vehicles; John just came by, looking the clay model over. We had no idea at that time that he was interested in starting his own company. Zora Duntov and a few others from GM, as well as Don De La Rossa from Ford, paid us a visit. A lot of the auto industry was interested, and wandering in and out!"
While 1974 model year Bricklin cars used a 220-hp, four-barrel 360-cu.in. AMC AMX V-8, 1975-'76 SV-1s had a Windsor-built 175-hp, two-barrel 351-cu.in. Ford V-8. The majority of cars had a three-speed automatic.
There were plenty of engineering challenges to sort, the principal players would reveal in later interviews. The 22 composite panels that, together, formed the SV-1 body, caused major headaches, since the engineers had to work out how to bond the acrylic to the fiberglass-reinforced plastic and resin-cured fiberglass matting, and to keep the finished panels acceptably smooth. Those "gullwing" doors that Bricklin had insisted upon from the start were another source of anxiety, both for their fit and finish, and for their actuation. These doors weighed around 90 pounds because they contained interior trim panels, side impact beams, and retractable window glass, three things Mercedes-Benz engineers had not included on the 300 SL coupe. The final design featured two high-pressure gas struts per door, assisted by Ford convertible electric top motors, and time would prove it frail, prone to burn-out if both doors were raised at once.
Within two years of the SV-1's conception, Bricklin had been able to secure millions in loans, and to get production rolling in a most unusual location: the eastern Canadian province of New Brunswick. This region was selected because its premier, Richard Hatfield, provided substantial funding to the automaker in a bid to bring both jobs and prestige to the cities of Minto (where the body plant was located) and Saint John (home of the car's final assembly). This was an international affair, as the Bricklin Vehicle Corporation had a service and distribution center in New Jersey, while its headquarters was located in Scottsdale, Arizona.
The production model, introduced in 1974, was both complicated and straightforward. Its underpinnings were proven, as AMC provided most of the mechanical components. The engine for 1974 model year cars was an AMX-spec 360-cu.in. V-8 topped with a four-barrel Motorcraft carburetor; it made 220 hp at 4,400 rpm and 315 lb-ft of torque at 3,100 rpm. Buyers had the choice of a four-speed manual or three-speed automatic transmission. The Hornet-derived suspension consisted of unequal-length A-arms, coil springs, tube shocks, and an anti-roll bar in front, as well as a live axle damped by semi-elliptic leaf springs, tube shocks, and two trailing links. The AMC-sourced brakes were power-assisted 11-inch vented discs in front, and 10-inch rear drums, while the variable ratio recirculating ball steering had Saginaw power assist. BFGoodrich FR60-15 radials were mounted on 15 x 7-inch cast alloy wheels.
It's reported that just under 780 examples were built in that first model year, and around 155 of those were equipped with the four-speed manual gearbox. That option disappeared for the 1975 model year, when the SV-1's base price had risen from $7,490 to $9,980 (around $39,080 to $47,715 today). American Motors had cut off the supply of its V-8, so Bricklin turned to Ford, and purchased the Canada-built Windsor 351-cu.in. V-8, backed by a three-speed Ford FMX automatic. This engine was topped by a two-barrel carburetor, and with its 8.1:1 compression ratio, was rated at 175 hp at 3,800 rpm and 284 lb-ft of torque at 2,200 rpm. Car and Driver magazine tested a 1975 example against a similarly equipped Corvette in its May '75 issue, finding the 3,470-pound coupe capable of a 16.6-second quarter-mile at 83.6 mph, a 118-mph top speed, and 0.68 G on the skidpad. Editor Don Sherman praised the Bricklin's handling stability and braking over those of the (comparably) mass-produced Chevrolet, and called it "all flair and flamboyancy… a tangible threat to the Corvette."
The Bricklin Vehicle Corporation would build another roughly 2,100 units—including fewer than 35 1976 model year examples—before the company went into receivership, leaving Maritime Canadians with bittersweet memories of their hometown sports car, and setting a precedent for John DeLorean's stainless steel wonder, the Northern Ireland-built DMC De Lorean. While it came in underdeveloped and over budget, the SV-1 found success in its mission to be a safe, stylish, unique sports car, and as enthusiastic members of the Bricklin International Owners Club (www.bricklin.org) will attest, surviving examples still have the power to stop traffic.
There's an old saying in the automobile business: You never want to be too far behind styling trends, or too far ahead. Finding that sweet spot between styling that’s too conservative and too advanced is critical, and the Mitchell automobile is a good example of what can happen when a design is too far ahead of trends.
In 1919 the Mitchell Motor Company of Racine, Wisconsin, was considered a veteran automaker. It had begun producing motorcars in 1903, one year after Rambler and the same year as Ford Motor Company. Mitchell was profitable, a picture of success and prosperity, yet five years later the company was out of business and its plant sold to another carmaker. It proved a cautionary tale for other automobile companies.
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.
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.
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."
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.
If there’s one thing we’ve learned about automotive barn finds, such discoveries are not always the cut-and-dry variety. You know, the classic image of some rarity being pulled from a structure so dilapidated any hint of wind might bring it crashing down. There are the well-used, truly original vehicles that have spent the static hours of existence in dusty, century-old abodes, handed from one family member to the next. Some barn finds were never really lost, rather just left to languish under the auspice of an idyllic restoration that never seems to happen. And then there are barn finds that have a habit of migrating home.
A case study is this 1964 Buick Riviera. It’s never really been lost, technically contradicting “find,” yet its decades-long dormancy in more than one storage facility, and with more than one owner, makes this first-gen GM E-body a prime barn find candidate. More so when the car’s known history, and relative desirability, can be recited with ease by current owner Tim Lynch.
Tim, a resident of West Deptford, New Jersey, is well versed in Buick’s Riviera legacy, thanks largely tohis dad, Gene Guarnere, who has had a penchant for the personal luxury car since he was a teen. “My dad has been into first generation Rivieras since he came home from Vietnam in 1967. That’s when he got his first ’64 to drive back and forth from South Philadelphia to Fort Dix, to finish his draft requirement,” Tim says.
Since then, Tim estimates his dad has owned too many Rivieras to count, through a combination of having driven, collected, parted out, and rebuilt many for resale. Though the Riviera nameplate lasted for eight generations of production, and thirty-six years as a standalone model, the 1963-’65 editions will always be Gene’s favorite. “There’s something about those Rivieras. There was really nothing like them on the market at the time,” Gene says.
The Riviera name had a long history with Buick. It first appeared in conjunction with the revolutionary true hardtop design unveiled within the 1949 Roadmaster lineup, the missing B-pillar ushering in “Riviera styling.” That design moniker evolved slightly through the mid-Fifties, provoking thoughts of elegant open road motoring for a modest price, and it even survived Buick’s model name revamp of ’59, when it became a trim level within the Electra 225 series though ’62.
Right about the time the dust was settling from the Buick renaming buzz, GM Advanced Styling guru Ned Nickles had already created a sketch of a new car that–according to later interviews with Nickles and GM Styling boss Bill Mitchell–was based on Mitchell’s foggy visit to London, where he spotted a custom-bodied Rolls-Royce in front of the Savoy hotel. Mitchell is famously quoted as saying, “make it a Ferrari-Rolls-Royce.”
Coincidentally, Cadillac was considering the introduction of a junior line to bolster sales, helping prompt the development of the XP-715 project (Mitchell is also quoted as saying GM didn’t take kindly to Ford attending the Motorama events to study concept cars, which lead to the four-seat Thunderbird, prompting development of the XP-715). Unofficially, it was dubbed La Salle II, but by the time a full-size clay mockup had been created, Cadillac had reversed its sales slump and was having trouble filling orders. It didn’t need a new car complicating matters.
The XP-715 might have been forgotten had Buick’s general manager Ed Rollert not learned of its unclaimed status. He made a pitch for the project but would have to fight for rights to it with Oldsmobile’s and Pontiac’s management. The latter was lukewarm on the idea of adding another series, while Olds wanted to modify the existing design, something Mitchell was deadset against. By April 1961, the XP-715 / La Salle II concept mockup was photographed wearing Buick emblems.
In the fall of 1962, Buick rolled out the Riviera on a new E-body platform. The car was a departure for Buick, with “knife edge” body lines, minimal trim, a Ferrari-like egg-crate style grille flanked by running lamps/signal indicators behind 1938-’39 inspired La Salle grilles, and kickups over the rear wheels designed to hint at the car’s power (helping conjure the “Coke bottle” design nomenclature). It was an amalgam of styles, fitting in somewhere between a sports car and luxury car, all rolled up in one breathtaking package.
Speaking of power, the Riviera was equipped with Buick’s four-barrel equipped 401-cu.in. V-8 that boasted 325 hp and 445 lb-ft. of torque, though in early December, the division started to offer the 340-hp, four-barrel 425-cu.in. engine as optional Riviera equipment. Just 2,601 examples of the latter were produced. Backing either engine Buick’s Twin Turbine Dynaflow automatic in its final year of production.
A year later, Buick management elevated the 340-hp, single four-barrel 425 engine to standard power team status, paired with a new Super Turbine 400 automatic transmission. Peppy as the engine was, a dual four-barrel version of the 425 became available, known as the “Super Wildcat.” Aside from its eye-opening 360 hp and 465 lb-ft. of torque, it looked the part of a performertoo, due to finned aluminum rocker covers and a twin-snorkel chrome air cleaner assembly. Despite its low production, only 2,122 of the 37,658 Rivieras built for ’64 came equipped as such, this engine became the cornerstone of Riviera’s Gran Sport package for ’65, cementing Buick’s legacy as a luxurious personal muscle car.
Although any first-gen Riviera is a great score to Tim and Gene, some examples are better than others, whether it was due to overall condition or the car’s born-with options. So, when this 1964 Riviera popped up on Gene’s radar 30-plus years ago, he quickly made a deal. “The history between my dad and this car is a long one. He first bought this car in northeast Philadelphia for $1,450 in the early Nineties,” Tim says.
The reason Gene wanted it more than any other that previously crossed his path was that not only was it in reasonably good shape, but the Buick also turned out to be one of the relatively rare dual-quad 425 examples. But like many of the Rivieras that came Gene’s way over the years, the Buick didn’t stick around too long. “The car was sold and/or traded multiple times for the first fifteen years my dad knew about it,” Tim says.
However, like all good things, they somehow find their way home and this car is no exception. “For some reason, the Riviera always ended up with us some way or another. I finally ended up buying the car from the last owner in 2009. He had it stored in my dad’s barn during his ownership, so we knew it was in a safe place for a long time. I now have it tucked away in one of my garages waiting for the next phase in its lifeline.”
What Tim has in possession is an interesting example beyond the power team. “This Riviera is typical of the examples built in ’64. It’s just chock full of options that cater to the upscale buyers that would have had the funds to purchase one of these high-end rides from the dealership.”
Present within are many of the accoutrements that catered to the posh consumers in the luxury sports car market. Options here include the Deluxe vinyl and cloth interior, tilt column, and power seats. Power windows and power vent windows add to the lavishness of the Buick’s aesthetic, while its front seat belts, rear armrests, wood ornamentation, and rear defroster only add to the upscale feel.
Though it's seen better days, the condition of the interior is remarkable, knowing of its lengthy journey since it was taken off the road circa 1980. The upholstery is dirty and moldy but with a good washing it will probably clean up nicely. The dash is also in great shape, though since the V-8 has not been started in years, there’s no way to determine what gauges and switches are functional. Underneath the carpet, the floors are solid as well, owing to its life mostly indoors.
Under the hood it looks as if the engine has barely been touched. It’s “KX” code stamped on the block is still visible, the original Carter carburetors are present, and the wiring and plumbing still appear usable. The air conditioning looks to be intact as well. Finally, power brakes and power steering round out the luxury amenities.
Outside, the body is in excellent shape for a car of this vintage. The last 30-plus years of indoor storage has helped keep the metal intact, though minor body work will be needed on the quarter panels to get it up to snuff. The original Claret Mist paint has turned to a satin finish under all the dirt, but a good cleaning and buff could bring it back to life. Most of the trim is also in great shape, and the car appears to be relatively complete, save for a few pieces of rear window trim.
As for the mechanical functionality beyond instrumentations, no one is really sure of its condition “My first order of business would be to send the engine to “Nailhead” Matt Martin in California, who is an artist that works in the nailhead medium; he’s the ultimate authority in these V-8s. I believe the rest of the car deserves a nut and bolt restoration, too. That time will come soon,” Tim says.