1968 Chevrolet Impala Custom Coupe - The Look

I need another blog about a Chevrolet Impala Custom Coupe like I need another hole in my trunk, but I thought I'd do a quickie today on this nice looking '68 that popped up on Marketplace recently not far from the Triple Wide. Asking price is $15,000. 

To review, the Impala Custom Coupe was new for 1968 using the formal rear roofline the Caprice coupe used. While I prefer the formal roof over the exaggerated, almost cartoonish swoopy fast back of the Impala Sport Coupe. how and why Chevrolet sold two-distinct versions of the same car, and got away with it, is nothing short of amazing. Then again, Chevrolet in the 1960's could sell a moldy ham sandwich on four-wheels and sell a quarter million of them. 

For your fifteen-grand, which I think is a ton of money for this car, you'd get what appears to be a fairly clean looking car but look deeper, and we see there's a "396" engine tag on the left front fender, a "307" tag on the right front. 

Poster of the ad claims this car has the 307 so good to go there, but what's up with the 396 tag? 

Rust? Accident? Something's up. Small detail? At $15,000, I don't think so. For the asking price, even with the flaws this car has, if it had the 396, I'd think it might be priced just about right. 

Zoom in and we see the seats are awash in black duct tape too. I don't know, for 15-grand, I'd need little things like the seats to be clean and engine tags to match. My wife probably wouldn't notice the engine tags at first, the taped-up seats she'd notice for sure and give me, "The Look of Death". 

I can live with the Chevy rally rims, these weren't available on non-SS models in 1968, Fender skirts on a '68 Impala coupe? Not a factory available option. 

If you have to have this, it's better bought closer to $10,000. The mis-matched engine tags, patched up seats along with the tiny engine, that comes with the Powerglide two-speed automatic it was born with, is enough to have me continue my search. 

 

1996 Oldsmobile Cutlass SL - Hard Pass

I've had five Chevrolet Lumina\Monte Carlo's, so I know a thing or two or ten about General Motors GM10 and W-bodies like this 1996 Oldsmobile Cutlass SL. This 168,000-mile redhead popped up for sale on Marketplace recently not far from the Triple Wide with an asking price of $2,500.

Seeing I'm perpetually in the market for a two-thousand-dollar beater and being a fan of these cars you'd think I'd be all over it. Well, while priced right, the combination of this engine with 168,000-miles on it, Cutlass' my least favorite of the GM10\W coupes and it being red all conspire to have me making a hard pass on it. 

Let's start with that engine, General Motors' LQ1, 3.4-liter, dual-overhead-cam, 24-valve V-6 they put in all GM10\W-bodies except the Buick Regal's. It was GM's first DOHC, four-valve per cylinder V-6 and was their answer to the Yamaha built, 3.0- and 3.2-liter DOHC V-6 of Ford Taurus SHO fame. Incidentally, while the poster of the Marketplace ad says this car has the "3400", the LQ1 was never known as that. The GM 3400 was a different engine although they're technically related; both started out as GM's 2.8-liter V-6 that first powered Chevrolet Citations back in 1979. GM built it from 1991 through 1997. 

There were a number of reasons for its short production run. The LQ1 was expensive to build and for customers to maintain and, frankly, it wasn't a very good engine. It was sluggish, thirsty, noisy and a bear to work on. Additionally, GM's "3800 Series II", an engine they had all along and eventually replaced it with, was smoother and more responsive, simpler, less expensive to build and maintain, made almost as much horsepower and torque, got great gas mileage and was bulletproof reliable. Parts are plentiful for it these days as well whereas LQ1 parts are hard to find. You'll pay through the throttle body for them too. 

Additionally, while I'm not a fan of any of the four-door variants of the GM10\W-bodies, the Oldsmobile Cutlass coupes are my least favorite of the two-door's. Especially these cladded-up 1992-1997 models. I don't think cladding per se to be an issue, it's just that in certain applications, like on these cars, it appears fussy, tacky and unnecessary. Hey, if I wanted a mid-'90's Pontiac Grand Am, I'd get a mid-'90's Pontiac Grand Am. The red finish does nothing for it either. 

On the inside things get a bit better although the monochromatic theme gets a little dreary after a while; these buckets are fabulous and except for a nick or two here and there, appear to be in great shape. If the air blows cold, whoever bought this did pretty well for themselves and they should keep it until something goes wrong with the engine. You never know, if the engine was well-maintained, the buyer could get three or more years out of it. They might get three months out of it too. 

I still find it amazing how in less than twenty-years, Oldsmobile went from being one of the best-selling automobile brands in the world to oblivion. Many blame the lack of sales of these cars for their undoing, seeing that in the height of Oldsmobile's success forty percent of their sales were Cutlass', there might be something to that. 

Oldsmobile sold these cars through 1997 replacing it in the middle of the model year with the Intrigue. Sales of the Intrigue, which were only available as four-door sedans, while good at first, tapered off quickly, Oldsmobile discontinued production of the Intrigue after the 2001 model year. GM shuttered the Oldsmobile division after 2004. 

1969 AMC AMX- Holy Blind Spot, Batman!

 

In the late 1950's and into the early 1960's, American Motors, or "AMC", had carved out a nice niche for selling cars that were smaller than what The Big Three sold. However, once GM, Ford and Chrysler came out with economy cars of their own, AMC's sales began to founder. To make matters worse, AMC's cars were construed as being stodgy and unhip. They determined that the quickest and most efficient way to change their image was to go directly after the, no pun intended, booming youth market. That pursuit resulted ultimately in the two-passenger, 1968 to 1970 AMX like the 1969 in ""butternut beige" pictured above. 

The AMX wasn't AMC's first salvo at younger buyers. On the left we have the goofy, "3+3", Rambler Marlin, AMC's first attempt at appealing to "kids" in 1965.  Not surprisingly, it flopped. On the right is their second fore ray, what they called "Javelin" in 1968 that was better received. You wouldn't be alone in thinking it a Ford Mustang or a late '60's Mercury Cougar. Or some Australian derivative of an American car design. If I was of the age and means back then to buy a new car, I'd look at a Javelin. Then probably buy a Camaro, Firebird or Mustang. 

The origin story of the AMX is fairly convoluted but it boils down to executive management demanding a two-passenger car that emulated the 1966 AMX concept car. Problem was the suits upstairs hamstrung designers and engineers with budget constraints. 

The result was the 1968 1/2 AMX, which was little more than a Javelin with a 12-inch shorter wheelbase, no back seat and holy blind spot, Batman, the funkiest rear end this side of a Tatra T77. The kind-of-cool but at the same time dorky as any Rambler that came before it little car didn't appeal nearly as well to buyers as the Javelin did. 

In their review of a 1968 AMX, Road &Track magazine applauded AMC embracing the sporty, two-passenger car market they predicted would become prevalent after Ford introduced the four-passenger Mustang back in 1964. Newsflash, they were wrong about the public's buy-in of two-passenger cars. 

They tactfully chastised the AMX for its awkward proportions and its close resemblance to the Javelin. They downplayed any notion that AMC was attempting to compete with the Chevrolet Corvette noting that the Corvette wasn't a mainstream automobile whereas the AMX, given it shared so much with the Javelin, was supposed to be. The only thing the AMX and Corvette intrinsically had in common was they both were two-passenger cars. 

R&T found the steering heavy and slow with plenty of understeer although cars with the gross-rated, 315-horsepower, 390-cu. in. V-8 could easily pull drivers out of it. The optional four-speed manual's ratios were too closely spaced and the rear brakes locked up easily. Fuel economy was abysmal but typical of the era at 11-to-13 miles-per-gallon of premium fuel. They clocked a 390 car like our butternut special here going from zero-to-sixty in 7.2-seconds. Not bad for a car with serious traction issues. 

Mattered little, though. AMC sold less than twenty thousand AMX' in two-and-a-half years of production making them extremely rare. These cars do have their ribald fans, though. AMX' in decent shape like this one can command more than $25,000, ones in showroom condition go for more than $40,000. 

AMC pulled the plug on the AMX after 1970 using the suffix on top-of-the-line, four-passenger, new-for-1971 Javelins they built through 1974. Harmlessly, AMC affixed "AMX", to a number of different models before Chrysler bought them, ostensibly, for their Jeep division in 1987. 

1998 Cadillac Eldorado convertible - Not Worth It at Any Price

 

2026 marks the fiftieth anniversary of the 1976 Cadillac Eldorado convertible, what was at the time, supposedly, the last factory convertible sold in this country. Someone must have really missed the good old days of Eldorado convertibles because on top of this 1998 Cadillac Eldorado's $42,000 window sticker, the original owner forked over an additional $25,000 to get this literally converted to a convertible. 

Problem with convertibles whether they're factory or not, they don't all look good top up, top down. or both. This conversion here actually doesn't look half-bad top up or down. Also means it doesn't look half good. At the end of the day, how a convertible looks is what it's all about because the experience of driving topless is not all it would appear to be cracked up to be. 

You'd think it would be. I mean, what wouldn't there be to love? Top down, the wind in your hair, you and perhaps your passenger or passengers becoming one with mother nature's song. Doesn't that sound lovely? It does. Then reality sets in. Trust me, I currently own two-convertibles, which is ironic since I'm not a convertible girl per se, so I know a thing or ten about convertible motoring. 

First off, if you live up here on the cusp of the North Pole, "convertible season" is incredibly short; shorter than "pool season" which is, on paper, Memorial Day weekend through Labor Day weekend but more like the Fourth of July through Labor Day. You drop the top on any day outside of that window and the wind chill will have you pulling over the first chance you get to put the top back up. My wife and I both have hoodies stashed in our 1991 Corvette convertible "just in case". Perfect weather can feel less so once the wind hits you. 

In the height of summer, even up here, with the top down, the sun will broil you. We drove with the top down on an anniversary weekend trip to Toronto several years ago in my wife's 2004 Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder GTS and I got sun sick so bad I nearly threw up at the border. The poutine didn't help either. 

On the open road, though, when the weather is perfect, even at night, driving a convertible can be a clandestine experience. Again, problem up here is those moments are few and far between. Also, most convertibles with fabric tops like ours both have and this car has, are much noisier inside than their comparable fixed roof versions. Head room is also compromised with the top up. 

The biggest problem with this car, though, is not its after-market chopped top - it's the fact it's powered by Cadillac's infamous "Northstar" V-8 engine. Especially one with 95,000-miles on it and the seller asking $14,000 for it. The "low refrigerant" light is on too. Bruh, seriously? The problems with these engines are well documented which is a shame since when they're not eating their head gaskets, they're wonderfully smooth and powerful. Until they're not. The fix is expensive and I've yet to see anyone swap in a different engine into these cars and have everything work right. 

Sadly, someone who doesn't know about the Cadillac Northstar will buy this and hopefully they won't soon be sorry. 

1954 Kaiser Manhattan - Keeping Up with My New Year's Resolutions

Excuse me as I give myself a big old hug and a high five for sticking to my New Year's resolution to blog more about cars I either don't like or don't find interesting. Well, this 1954 Kaiser Manhattan is both! It's currently for sale on Facebook Marketplace about an hour east of us in Geneva, Ohio. Asking price is, pardon me as I gag on my morning Metamucil, $7,500. 

Not surprisingly for a 72-year-old car at this price point, this one's not perfect. The engine runs but won't move because there's something wrong with the column shifter to the transmission. There are rust spots, the floor on the front driver's side has been patched, front carpeting as we see is missing too. At least the padded dash, which was advanced for its day, appears to be in good shape. 

So, I know what you're thinking. A Kaiser? 

Kasser was a short lived, independent automobile manufacturer that sprung up in 1947 and was gone, for all intents and purposes by 1955. Technically, though, the company was a rebranding of the Graham Paige Motor Company and survived as a passenger-vehicle builder making Jeeps through 1969.

Henry Kaiser was an industrialist whose company-built Hoover Dam and Liberty ships during World War II. In 1947, Kaiser invested in Joseph's Frazer's struggling Graham-Paige Motors Corporation, the company was renamed Kaiser-Frazer. Frazer was an accomplished automobile executive who had taken control and became president of foundering Graham-Paige in 1944; in order to resume automobile production after the war, Frazer needed a large infusion of capital, which Henry Kaiser provided. The two men were supposed to be equals in the company, Kaiser was chairman, Frazer was president, and as well-heeled, ego-maniacal men of a certain age tend to be when they work together, they disagreed over the direction of the company.  Frazer left in 1951, the "Frazer" nameplate dropped from all subsequent cars produced. In 1953 the company became known simply as "Kaiser Motors". Additionally, in 1953, Kaiser purchased the famed Jeep manufacturer Willy-Overland. 

Our Kaiser Manhattan here was one of the models that stuck around after Frazer left the company.  Originally known as the Frazer Manhattan, it was the "deluxe" version of the company's large sedan series that included the Deluxe, Carolina, Dragon (yes, Dragon) and Traveler. Speaking of large, these pictures don't do justice to how big this car is, it dwarfs a 1954 Chevrolet by more than a foot in length although it's an inch less wide. Those dimensions do its proportions no favors. 

Although Kaiser-Frazer had initial success, it's said much of that was due to the country's ribald demand for new automobiles after the war. Once that tide receded, sales declined sharply. Kaiser sold approximately four-thousand Manhattan's in 1954, just three-hundred or so in 1955. After 1955, Kaiser stopped automobile production and focused exclusively on Jeeps. 

Under hood we have a confluence of new- and old-think. That's a belt driven supercharger helping to whip up gross-rated horsepower of this 226-cubic inch, flathead inline six to 140, up from 118 for versions of this engine without a blower. Blown or not blown, with two tons to haul around, the engines in the big Kaisers had their work cut out for them. 

This car was designed by Howard "Dutch" Darrin, a freelance automobile stylist who cut his teeth drawing up Duesenberg's back in the '30's. Darin gave the car a low beltline and a high roof which led to an expansive glass area; some say these cars are so airy inside passengers feel as though they're riding in a convertible with the top down. To say nothing of being able to wear a hat so tall Abraham Lincoln would be jealous. 

You almost don't notice this is a two-door although it's a two-door sedan in the literal sense; it looks like a four-door where the rear doors are welded shut. There were no "hard tops". The prow in the rear windshield, remember, around here we don't call them "back lights", was called a "Darrin" dip meant to reduce the greenhouse look of the roof. The front has one too. 

In 1970, in attempt to buoy their little sinking fortunes, American Motors purchased Kaiser, AMC eventually swallowed up by Chrysler ostensibly for their Jeep division. 

1954 Packard Caribbean - Now THIS is a Real Barn Find

I love "barn find" videos on YouTube where the car might need little more than a deep cleaning, perhaps fluids, tires and belts changed. At worse a carburetor might need re-jetting or rebuilding. A turn of a screw here, a plier applied there and, voila, the car magically starts. Imagine that. Well, that rarely is the case in real life. In reality, most "bard finds" are like this 1954 Packard Caribbean that's stuffed in a storage shed about 40-minutes east of Cleveland in lovely Geneva, Ohio. 

Looks like this was stored outside for a while too. Up here thisclose to Lake Erie, the winters are cold and snowy, summers are hot and humid, and it rains here more than it does in Seattle. This poor old Packard didn't stand a chance.

So, what is this thing? More like, what was it? 

To start with, Packard was an independent luxury car builder founded by brothers James and William Packard in Warren, Ohio, in 1899. In 1902, the company moved to Detroit where it stayed until its move to South Bend, Indiana shortly after merging with Studebaker, which was headquartered there, in 1954. 

Although Packards never sold as many cars as even Chrysler, the smallest of The Big Three sold, through the start of World War II, the company was profitable. However, their first post-War models didn't sell well, and the company amassed insurmountable debt rather quickly.  

Problem was, post-War Packards were seen as old-fashioned and stodgy. The Caribbean, launched in 1953 (above), was one of Packard's last attempts to become solvent again. Cut to the chase, the Caribbean wasn't the answer to any problems Packard had. Blame questionable if not dated styling, engineering that wasn't up-to-date and lastly but not leastly, Packard Caribbean's were expensive. Just 750 Caribbeans sold for 1953, our 1954 barn find one of just 400 sold.  

Packard merged with Studebaker in October of 1954 with plans to eventually combine forces with American Motors, but it never came to be. As "Studebaker-Packard", the slow selling Packard line, which had become little more than rebadged Studebakers, was discontinued after 1959. Studebaker eventually closed up shop in 1966. 

Poster of the ad does have the decency to say that this might be best as a parts car but the asking price for what amounts to a heap of dust and grime of $5,000 is hard to swallow. Parts for these cars are quite expensive, though, for instance, one chrome fender molding will run you just shy of $1,000.  Mind you, that's for one that's perfect condition.

With some exceptions, cars from the '50's generally aren't my cup of anti-freeze, especially before 1955. It's not because of a lack of context either; frankly, car styling and design was still in its infancy. However, over styled cars from the '50's indirectly laid the groundwork for what was to come; we probably wouldn't have had the tastefully restrained designs of the 1960's were it not for cars like 1954 Packard Caribbeans. Here's a '54 in very nice condition Gateway has for sale currently for $55,000. Compared to what it would run you to restore our barn find, this might be a bargain.