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This 1949 Nash Ambassador is labeled a V-8, but Nash did not build a single factory V8 that year — the real engine was a 234-cubic-inch inline-six, with true V8 power still six years away. The bigger story is under the whole car, not the hood: 1949 was the year Nash introduced its groundbreaking unibody ‘Airflyte’ construction.
This 1969 Oldsmobile 442 traces its roots to a Cutlass option package that grew into a standalone muscle car chasing the GTO down the same quarter-mile. Factory variants ranged from the standard 400 V8 up to the rare, 455-powered Hurst/Olds, of which fewer than a thousand were built. Its four-barrel, four-speed, dual-exhaust formula gave the 442 its name and its reputation.
Plymouth built the Duster by taking a Valiant, keeping everything forward of the cowl, and grafting on a new fastback roofline behind it. The result cost $2,172, sold over 217,000 copies in its first year, and could be had with a 340 for about four hundred dollars more. Only a fraction of buyers checked that box, which is precisely why those cars matter now. Read on for how a parts-bin economy car became a genuine muscle car bargain.
The fourth-generation Pontiac GTO was not designed in Detroit. It was built in Australia, imported nearly complete, and given a GTO badge because a General Motors board member read a magazine article and then drove one on a business trip. It had Corvette power, a legitimate 13.8-second quarter, and an exhaust note reverse-engineered from archived recordings. American buyers still walked past it. Read on for why, and why that makes it a bargain now.
Jaguars E-Type earned its reputation on a racetrack before it ever reached a showroom, tracing its lineage to a D-Type that won Le Mans three years straight. By 1966 the car had grown into its most well-rounded form, pairing a 4.2-litre, 265-horsepower six with mechanical upgrades that fixed the earlier cars biggest complaints. It is a combination collectors still chase today.
The 1956 Buick Centurion replaced its rearview mirror with a television camera in the tail and a screen in the dashboard, at a time when television itself was still new in most American homes. It worked, and then nothing happened for thirty-five years. The gap between that Motorama show car and the backup camera in every new vehicle sold today is one of the longest idea-to-adoption stretches in automotive history.
Ford reshaped its mid-size muscle car for 1973 to meet new federal bumper rules, and the redesign paid off with a 52 percent jump in production over 1971. Buyers could choose between a humble inline-six and a deeper bench of V8 options than you’d guess, with the sportiest Gran Torino Sport reserved for V8 power only. The changes pushed the Torino ahead of its longtime rival, the Chevrolet Chevelle, in Fords ongoing battle for intermediate muscle car sales.
The Lincoln Continental exists because Edsel Ford wanted a better-looking car than anything Detroit was building in 1938 — so he had one made just for himself. A decade later, the 1948 convertible represents the final year of that original design, powered by a 292-cubic-inch V12 Lincoln would soon retire for good. Only 452 convertibles like this one were ever built. Here’s the story behind one of Detroit’s rarest postwar V12s.
The 1963 Buick Riviera almost wore a Cadillac badge instead, GM’s styling chief originally designed it as a LaSalle-branded personal luxury coupe before Cadillac passed and Buick claimed the project. Deliberately limited to 40,000 units to preserve its exclusivity, the Riviera paired genuine luxury styling with a 325-horsepower Nailhead V8 capable of 0-60 in around 8 seconds. It’s a car built on a rejection that turned into one of Buick’s most important models of the decade.
In 1958 Ford launched three entirely new V8 engine families in a single year, named after the divisions they were built to serve: MEL for Mercury-Edsel-Lincoln, FE for Ford-Edsel, and FT for Ford-Truck. They shared oiling systems and bolt patterns but arranged their valves in opposite order, a detail that tells you almost everything about how they were designed. Read on for part one of three, covering how these engines were built and why they lasted until 1976.
This 1964 Chevy II Nova wears a badge from a year Chevrolet never actually offered a 406-cubic-inch V8 – the largest factory small-block that year topped out at 283 cubic inches. That gap points to a later restomod-style engine swap, a common and well-regarded upgrade path for this lightweight, unibody platform. The photos below, courtesy of Gateway Classic Cars, capture why the first-generation Nova remains such a popular canvas for builders. Vintage looks, modern power – that’s the whole appeal.
The Chevy 350 arrived in 1967 as a Camaro-only option making 300 horsepower and left the 1980 Corvette rated at 190. Nothing about the engine got fundamentally worse in those thirteen years, but almost everything around it changed. This installment traces the L-48 through the Camaro, Nova, Impala and Corvette, decodes the block and head casting numbers worth knowing, and explains the VIN character that proves a 1972 Nova SS. Read on for the details.
More than a million buyers drove home in a Chevrolet Impala during 1965 alone – a single-model-year record that’s never been broken. Behind that number sat an engine lineup ranging from a thrifty six-cylinder all the way up to a 425-horsepower 396 Turbo-Jet V8. The photos above, courtesy of Gateway Classic Cars, capture why this generation still turns heads at cruise nights today. Sales records aside, this was a genuinely well-designed car.
Buick spent most of the 1980s making comfortable sedans and then, in its final year, built a turbocharged six-cylinder that ran a 13.2-second quarter and beat V8s that cost far more. The 1987 Grand National and the 547 GNX units that followed it were the last of the line, assembled in part by an outside performance house, and factory rated at a number almost nobody believed. Read on for what separated a WE4 from a GNX, and what a $35 option got you.
It is one of the most repeated lines in business and car culture: if Henry Ford had asked customers what they wanted, they would have said faster horses. The trouble is that nobody can find him saying it. Not in his autobiography, not in his own museum’s authenticated quote database, and not anywhere in print until decades after his death. Read on to find out where the line actually came from and why it refuses to die.