​By the early 1960s, Studebaker was rapidly fading from the automotive scene, but the car maker continued to offer distinctive and memorable features, including the convertible-roof Wagonaire.

​The Wagonaire story actually starts here, with the Scimitar experimental cars created for the Olin Corporation in 1959 by noted industrial designer Brooks Stevens (read about the Scimitar project here). One of the three Scimitars, a pillarless hardtop station wagon (above) that Stevens called the All-Purpose Sedan, used a sliding roof to create an open-air cargo space for tall items.
Stevens also had an ongoing relationship with the Studebaker Corporation, where he designed the 1962-64 Gran Turismo Hawk and a series of facelifts on the familiar Lark platform. His friend, Studebaker president Sherwood Egbert, was always on the hunt for clever, low-cost ways to update and broaden the company’s product line, and at some point it was decided to adapt the Scimitar’s sliding-roof concept to the 1963 Lark Station Wagon, where it would be called the Wagonaire.

Stevens, who also redesigned the Lark’s exterior sheet metal for 1963, seamlessly integrated the sliding roof panel into the four-door wagon body shell, which rode on the South Bend automaker’s longer 113-inch wheelbase chassis. The Wagonaire was available in three trim levels that first season—Standard, Regal, and Daytona—and more than 11,000 units were sold, the Wagonaire’s best year as things turned out.
As you might guess, the sliding panel proved to be nearly impossible to seal against rain and snow, and instead the setup relied mainly on a series of drain tubes to carry water away from the cabin area. A handy folding step was built into the tailgate’s interior panel for improved access to the cargo area. While we can think of a few potential customers for the sliding roof, maybe the most glamorous was Movietone News, which operated a fleet of 30 Daytona Wagonaires as mobile camera platforms.

​When Chevrolet introduced its new Chevelle in 1964, the initial plan was for the mid-sized car to take sales away from Ford’s Fairlane. But, 1964 would also find automotive sales placing more emphasis on performance vehicles than ever before. The sensible Chevelle was in a position that it could have been left behind. Fortunately, certain folks at Chevrolet were not about to let that happen.

​Chevrolet immediately placed its potent little 327ci small-block engine on the Chevelle option list. But, since the folks at Pontiac already offered a 389 cubic-inch engine in its mid-sized cars — like the GTO — Chevrolet knew something “big” was needed to make an impression. The Chevelle was a very versatile platform, and the buying public had the choice of a sedan, coupe, convertible, several different forms of station wagons, and even the El Camino. But, versatility aside, the Chevelle needed more attitude, and attitude it would get. Enter the now iconic 396 cubic-inch big-block, and the Z16 package.

​In 1965, the Z16 option was much more than just a larger engine being stuffed under the hood of Chevelle. It started with a foundation of using the reinforced frame typically reserved for a convertible. This frame featured several chassis reinforcements, and utilized unique chassis components like the biggest brakes available, which were taken from the full-sized-car line up. The exterior of Z16-equipped Malibus feature only subtle differences from other Chevelle SS coupes. These differences were special black and chrome trim, mag-wheel-looking wheel covers, and small 396 Turbo Jet badges. What’s more, unlike standard non-Z16-quipped cars that could be purchased in any of the 15 available exterior colors, Z16-optioned cars were only available in three – Tuxedo Black, Regal Red, and Crocus Yellow.

​When peering through the window and inside the car, Z16-optioned cars looked much like any Malibu SS. Front seat passengers got comfortable in bucket seats behind a padded dash that featured a dash-mounted pedestal clock, and a unique speedometer that let the driver think they could reach 160 mph in the car. The Malibu SS also included a center console for manually-shifted cars, and those equipped with a Powerglide (a column shifter was also available with the Powerglide and Turbo three speed transmissions). The information we found, states the Turbo three-speed manual transmission was not available with a floor shifter and console. If a column shifter was ordered, bucket seats were still standard fare, but could be swapped for a bench seat. The Z16’s standard-issue tachometer (RPO U14) was also optional on any V8-powered Chevelle.

​The engine in all Z16-optioned cars was an L37 396 big block, rated at 375 horsepower. The L37 big block 396 used a hydraulic-lifter camshaft, and featured forged pistons and crankshaft, four-bolt mains, ported closed-chamber cylinder heads, and an aluminum intake with a Holley 3310 four-barrel carburetor. In a strange twist, Z16-spec cars were not available with Positraction.

Chevy only built 201 of these specially-equipped Chevelles with the Z16 package, and the car was never marketed to the public. It wasn’t even listed on any dealer order forms, so buying this car meant you knew the secret handshake.

What are they worth now? At the Mecum 2015 auction in Anaheim, California, a freshly-restored example was a no sale at $220,000. Not a bad investment since they sold new for slightly more than $4,500.

Article courtesy of Chevy Hardcore, written by Randy Bolig.

Catch Dodge Fever with this famous advertising campaign for the sleek new 1968 Charger.
What a difference a year makes—and a new set of body stampings.
The first-generation Dodge Charger of 1966-67 was a perfectly fine car, generously equipped and attractively priced. But the public never warmed to it, nor to its quirky fastback styling. Sales amounted to barely 37,000 units in ’66 and fewer than 16,000 in ’67. Rising to the challenge, the Dodge styling team led by Bill Brownlie created all-new sheet metal for the B-body based package that boasted a sleek coke-bottle profile. The fresh new look was a winner, moving nearly 100,000 cars in 1968. And in hindsight, they created one of the more memorable designs in Mopar history.

Dodge was sporting a new ad campaign for ’68 as well, crafted by the automaker’s longtime agency BBDO, the same firm that invented the Pepsi Generation and Ring Around the Collar. A rework of the ’66-’67 Dodge Rebellion campaign, Dodge Fever was fronted by a spunky spokesmodel with a white cowboy hat and miles of personality, Joan Parker. She would serve in this role through 1970 when the Dodge Material campaign was launched.
There was no shortage of muscle in the extensive powertrain catalog for the ’68 Charger, which included the 440 Magnum V8 and the mighty 426 Street Hemi. Naturally, either engine could be coupled to the famed Torqueflite automatic or Chrysler’s beefy A-883 New Process four-speed. But in this original commercial spot the humble 318 CID V8 gets all the glory, while the messaging is focused on the bold styling. Video follows.

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Plymouth cracked the youth market wide open in the late ’60s with a bold new marketing and branding strategy: Using cartoon characters to sell muscle cars.
The Road Runner, Plymouth’s 1968 entry in the Motor City’s muscle car wars, was based on two fresh but powerful insights about the exploding youth performance market.
First: Many young muscle car buyers, it turned out, cared little about luxury or convenience features. They wanted the most powerful drivetrain they could afford, stuffed into the cheapest (and lightest) package available. Recognizing this desire, Plymouth stripped the Road Runner to taxicab trim level—right down to rubber floor mats and ash-tray hubcaps—to create the lowest-priced muscle car on the market. The list price was comfortably under $3,000, including the standard 383 CID big-block V8 and Hurst-shifted four-speed transmission. Naturally, the 440 CID Magnum and mighty 426 Street Hemi powerplants were available at extra cost.
Next: Plymouth recognized that this crop of young buyers didn’t identify with couples in evening wear or weekends at the country club, so those familiar images were banished from the print and television ads. To reach the baby boomers, the first generation of car buyers raised in front of the TV set, Plymouth borrowed and licensed (for $50,000, it is said) a beloved character from Saturday morning cartoons, the Road Runner. The quick and crafty bird was applied not only to the car’s ad campaign, but to the branding of the vehicle itself. Chrysler Corporation planned to sell 20,000 Road Runners that first year and sold 50,000.
As we all know, when the Road Runner and his nemesis Wile E. Coyote face off in a Warner Brothers cartoon, Road Runner always wins. And that’s just how it went in a whole series of Plymouth commercials, too, including this spot from 1969. There’s even an Acme Rocket Skate bit here. Video follows.

The 1974-78 Mustang II doesn’t get a lot of love from Ford enthusiasts—and that’s a shame, because it saved the breed from extinction.

From its original introduction at the New York World’s Fair in April of 1964, the Ford Mustang was one of the great success stories of the Motor City, with more than one million cars sold in the first 18 months. But in the following years, as the trend-setting design grew bigger, fatter, and more luxurious, its sales volume steadily slipped away as well. By 1973, the Mustang was now almost intermediate in size, and meanwhile, sales slipped to around 135,000 units. The pony car was no longer earning its place in the Ford lineup.

Ford executive Lee Iacocca, often called the father of the Mustang, observed that Mustang buyers had not abandoned the Mustang, but rather, the Ford Motor Company had abandoned them. For the 1974 model year, it was time for a reset. The economy was slowing and fuel prices were rising. The Mustang would be returned to its small-car roots.

​After Ford management studied a dozen or more packages based on the Pinto and Maverick platforms, Iaocca personally gave the green light to a Pinto-sized fastback coupe drafted by Lincoln-Mercury staff designer Howard “Buck” Mook. After nine years, there would finally be a Mustang hatchback. Meanwhile, market research identified a strong demand for a traditional notchback coupe, so designer Chuck Nesbitt spun off a handsome formal coupe version. The decision proved to be a wise one, as the coupe consistently outsold the three-door by a wide margin throughout the ’74-’78 production cycle.

More than a foot shorter than the ’73 Mustang and rolling on a 96.2-inch wheelbase, the Mustang II was loosely based on Ford’s Pinto subcompact platform, although Iacocca was quick to insist that the two cars actually shared few components. Among other key changes, the Mustang II used an independent front subframe (labeled the “toilet seat” by Ford engineers) to isolate the cabin from drivetrain noise. Engine choices the first year were limited to a 2.4-liter four with 85 horsepower and a German-built 2.8-liter V6 good for 105 hp. From ’75 on, a 5.0-liter V8 was available, but with just 122 hp, later bumped to 138 hp.

​The Mustang II’s cabin remained true to the original pony car theme with a sporty instrument panel, bucket seats, and a floor-mounted shifter and parking brake lever. Changes to the Mustang II package were relatively few and small over the five-year model run: parking lamps, fuel filler location, quarter windows, a few other items. No factory convertibles were offered, but there were Mach I, Cobra II, and King Cobra versions to provide some performance image, if not actual performance.

While it wasn’t a real performance car by any stretch of the imagination, the Mustang II proved to be the right car for the times. Iacocca and crew had found the sweet spot in price, style, and packaging for the Mustang buyer of the ’70s. Sales zoomed up to nearly 386,000 units for 1974, a level the Mustang hadn’t seen since 1967—and hasn’t matched since. There would be four more generations of the Ford Mustang, and they all owe their existence to the 1974-78 Mustang II.