America has always been too rich for a car like the Chevrolet El Camino, Ford Ranchero, or Dodge Rampage. The car/truck hybrid is very popular in Australia, where it was invented in the 1930s, and is popularly known as the “ute” —short for “coupe utility.” Originally, they were simply coupe bodies with a slab-sided pickup box where the trunk would be on a regular coupe. That was a common home-built modification even before, but the factory-built examples proved highly successful. Down Under, where things are a lot more rural and the economy has never been quite as robust as in the United States, utes made a perfect solution for one-car families.
Here, if the family needed a pickup, it was likely to be a full-blown half-ton model supplementing the family car. Still, that demand was not very great even in itself, as America’s population was majority-urban by 1920 and the family farm steadily gave way to larger operations in the ensuing decades. It wasn’t until American carmakers made pickups as luxurious as passenger cars that they started selling in their biggest numbers—and in that way, they are essentially the American equivalent of the ute, combining car comfort and pickup utility, but in a heavy-duty, often 4x4 package.
Photo by Matthew Litwin and David Conwill
Australia, of course, does have pickups, and America has had its utes. Given the reverse-ute heritage of the modern pickup, however, it’s perhaps more interesting to view an SS 396 El Camino as akin to the 1990–’93 Chevrolet 454 SS muscle truck than the Chevelle on which it is based. In today’s more pickup-centric car scene, the El Camino is more relevant than it ever was, and Roger Peterson, of Osage, Minnesota, who restored this one, was way ahead of the curve on them. He’d been tracking this one for years before it came up for sale.
“I’ve known about this car since 1986 or ’87. The car was actually bought by my neighbor when I was a kid. Later, it passed to another owner who had it painted in ’90 or ’91 and he had it until I got it in 2013.”
That other owner, named Bruce, was a friend of Roger’s, and he got to work on the El Camino during the time it was his, including swapping the Positraction unit from his race car into the 3.31:1-geared 12-bolt of what was then Bruce’s El Camino. Little did Roger know, he’d eventually get the Posi back, along with the car now wrapped around it.
“I did some carpentry work for Bruce, and we traded,” he says. Roger didn’t set out to restore the car, either, as Bruce had already done things like having the original 402 rebuilt and hopped up, circa 2000, by Lynn Johnson at Auto Value in Park Rapids, Minnesota, which happens to be directly across the street from the lot where the El Camino was sold. The process involved a 0.030-inch overbore (the nominal 396, which was really a 402 from Chevy in ’72, is now 408 cubic inches), Sealed Power forged-aluminum pistons, a Melling hydraulic camshaft, a Pertronix electronic ignition, and Hooker Super Comp stainless-steel headers.
At the same time, Scott McCaren rebuilt the TH-400 transmission. Coincidentally, Roger is friends and neighbors with Scott’s brother, Steve—in fact, it would pan out that most of the folks who worked on this car knew it and one another.
“Everybody who has worked on it, besides the paint guy, knew the history of the car,” Roger says.
That’s the original LS3 402 in there, fully rebuilt and bored out to now displace 408 cubic inches.
Photo by Matthew Litwin and David Conwill
It proved an ideal informal team that combined well to do the car justice in its unintended restoration—emphasis on unintended. While on a trip to have the car’s exhaust system changed, a deer bounded out in front of Roger—too suddenly for evasion or brakes. The deer managed to tag not only the nose of the car, but also the passenger’s side, leaving it drivable but mangled.
“It had been hit in the right front grille and bumper; the collision pushed the fender into the door. The deer got the grille, then spun around, and got the quarter panel too.”
Photo courtesy of Roger Peterson
What started out as a simple front-clip swap and repaint wound up revealing a lot of hidden rust damage. Ultimately, Agathers Kustom Autobody would replace the quarters, rockers, and tailgate— plus repair the doors. Only the roof skin was left intact.
Roger accepted an estimate to have the damage repaired back to driver status, but then the car sat, “probably for three or four years in my shop” before he decided to take charge of the project directly.
He found Agathers Kustoms Autobody in Perham, Minnesota, which was more than up to the task. As things came apart for repair, it seemed that the injury had come at a fortuitous time —there was a lot of hidden decay. The car proved to need inner and outer quarter panels, rockers, and a new tailgate. It also could have used new doors, had they been available.
“We couldn’t find any doors, so they repaired the ones we had. The guys are just magicians with sheetmetal,” Roger notes.
With the car undergoing such complete bodywork, there came the question of color. Roger elected to stick with the existing black, rather than return to factory original.
“The car originally was Placer Gold with a white-vinyl top. It was black when I got it and was blue back in the ’80s.” Roger also elected to have a white stripe hand-painted by the guys at the body shop. At this point, the car has been black longer than it was gold.
The suspension and brakes were left all original but checked and confirmed as within specification.
“It was a full, on-frame restoration. We never completely gutted the interior, but otherwise we went through everything on the car,” Roger says.
Photo by Matthew Litwin and David Conwill
Inside, there are slight deviations from factory-spec, but some appear to date back to when the car was new —likely concessions to “parts on hand” when trying to meet production quotas. Others were made by previous owners and were insufficiently obtrusive to warrant correction.
“The speaker boxes were in the car when I got it. I just left them in there.” There is an aftermarket AM/FM/Bluetooth radio, too, but the sweet sound of the three-inch stainless exhaust running through Magnaflow mufflers is the preferred soundtrack while driving.
Similarly, what was originally a bench-seat, column-shift car now sports buckets and a console. Further details Roger doesn’t plan to change, even while he attempts to conserve the car’s history.
Recall transmission-rebuilder Scott McCaren’s brother, Steve, a neighbor of Roger’s in Osage?
Roger reports, “Steve still has the factory bench seat for this car and the steering column —which he’s going to give me back. It’s going to stay how it is, but if [those parts] are gone, you’ll never find them again, you know?”
Photo by Matthew Litwin and David Conwill
Don’t let the bedliner fool you. The El Camino’s days being used as a truck are over. The straight body, mirror-like black paint, and warmed-up 402 mean that the only hauling the big-block ute does now is tail.
In fact, conservation now seems to be the name of the game. Although purchased as a driver, restoration has made this El Camino a bit too precious to drive —not least of which because of the dramatically increased values of restored, big-block intermediates these days. Roger has only put around a hundred miles on the car since restoration, and he permitted us to take the wheel for a bit on the day of photography.
We guarantee that there is nothing like torque to put a smile on your face. It did ours. Maybe it’s time to seek out an El Camino for yourself and restore it.
Photo by Matthew Litwin and David Conwill
I just planned on driving the car because it was a nice driver. I did some cosmetic things to it, got it fixed up pretty nice, and I was going to Detroit Lakes for exhaust, and I hit a deer with it. That’s where it all started. I got the new exhaust put on it, brought it home, and the car just sat. I went and got estimates on it, but the guy never started work. I’ve got a 40 x 50 shop. It’s not a Jay Leno shop, but it’s pretty nice. So, I started checking around for a body guy. Initially it was going to be a whole new front clip and paint the car, but once we got into it, it needed quarter panels, inner quarter panels, rocker panels, and a tailgate.—Roger Peterson
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.
Photo by Scotty Lachenauer
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.”
Photo by Scotty Lachenauer
What makes this 1964 Buick Riviera desirable among collectors is the optional dual-quad 425-cu.in. V-8, which boasted 360 hp. It would become the foundation of Gran Sport option a year later.
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.
Photo by Scotty Lachenauer
Although the cabin is in dire need of detailing, it looks otherwise complete.
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.
Photo by Scotty Lachenauer
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.
Photo by Scotty Lachenauer
The 1938-'39 La Salle grille is said to have inspired the Riviera's vertically stacked running lamp grilles.
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.
