THE EXECUTIVE PONY CAR: 1966 BUICK RIVIERA
The 1966 Buick Riviera made its public debut on September 22, 1965, and went on sale on October 14. By then, it had rather large shoes to fill: While it had not threatened the sales dominance of the Thunderbird (which had outsold the Buick by more than 2 to 1 in 1964 and 1965), the first-generation Riviera had been the clear favorite of the motoring press. The Riviera, particularly with the optional Gran Sport package introduced for 1965, fit perfectly into an automotive journalist’s fantasies of the good life: It was sharp-looking, luxurious, fast, and (at least with the optional heavy-duty suspension) reasonably nimble.
The new Riviera was inevitably overshadowed by the Toronado, whose novel engineering captured a stack of press awards, but critical response to the Buick was nonetheless positive. The press was not thrilled with the new Riviera’s larger dimensions or 150-odd pounds (67 kg) of extra weight, but the revamped Riviera garnered much praise for its handsome styling.
Contemporary reviews of the 1966 Riviera’s performance must be carefully qualified because it appears that most, if not all, of Buick’s press fleet had the $176.82 Gran Sport package (which included stiffer suspension, a limited-slip differential, and a shorter 3.42 axle ratio), the optional quick-ratio steering (a nominal $15.79 extra), and the dealer-installed Super Wildcat engine with two four-barrel Carter AFB carburetors and 360 gross horsepower (269 kW), 20 hp (15 kW) more than the standard four-barrel engine setup. Those options were really rather rare in the wild (fewer than 15% of buyers ordered the GS option) and the Riviera’s performance and handling in standard form were somewhat less impressive. The standard springs, for example, were about 40% softer than those of the GS, with a predictable effect on body control and handling.
Even with all the performance options installed, the new Riviera’s acceleration and braking suffered a bit — the 1966 Riviera was heavier than the ’65 and had the same powertrain, brakes, and tires. Nonetheless, the Riviera remained quite quick, capable of 0-60 mph (0-97 km/h) in a bit over 8 seconds and a top speed of more than 120 mph (193 km/h). From the few tests of cars with the standard engine, it appears the second carburetor did little for performance at lower speeds, but added about 3 mph (2 km/h) to the Riviera’s quarter mile trap speeds, bringing them to 86–87 mph (138–140 km/h).
On the road, the fast-ratio steering and GS suspension made the 1966 Riviera reasonably agile for its size, although some critics complained that shock damping still left something to be desired and the turning radius was rather ponderous. The Riviera also had decent brakes. While the performance of its finned drums couldn’t match that of the 1966 Thunderbird’s front discs, the Riviera had decent stopping distances and better-than-average fade resistance for an American car of this era.
In sum, the Riviera was a sort of Establishment pony car: It was similar in concept to sporty specialty cars like the Ford Mustang or Chevrolet Camaro (then still a year away), but big enough and plush enough to be driven by and in polite society. If you could adjust to the Riviera’s sheer size, its road manners weren’t far off the pony cars’ and its straight-line performance was as good or better. In fact, in a stoplight drag race, a Riviera owner stood a fair chance of beating a Mustang with the 271 hp (202 kW) 289 cu. in. (4,728 cc) V8 and four-speed manual transmission — and of course the big Nailhead engine and Super Turbine transmission had none of the sturm und drang of Ford’s high-strung K-code 289.
RIVIERA VS. TORONADO
Inevitably, there were comparisons between the 1966 Buick Riviera and its Oldsmobile cousin, which was logical enough, since the two E-cars were not only nearly identical in size, but also competed for the same market.
Surprisingly, despite the Riviera’s comparative lack of sophistication, the Buick came out on top in many respects. The Toronado’s standard V8 had more rated horsepower and torque than even the dual-carb Super Wildcat engine, but less weight, better weight distribution, and (with the GS package) a shorter axle ratio made the Riviera quicker at any legal speed, and the Buick’s stopping power was clearly superior. The Toronado had an obvious edge in wet-weather traction, however, and while the Riviera at least theoretically had more dry-pavement cornering power, reviewers who drove the two cars back to back found little to choose between them in the dry, at least without pushing far harder than any buyer was ever likely to.
Inside, the Toronado had the advantage of a flat floor, but this was more a novelty than a real advantage in this class. Some critics preferred the Riviera’s interior treatment; Car Life speculated that Oldsmobile had cut corners on trim to make up for the higher cost of the Toronado’s drivetrain. To top it off, the Riviera cost at least $160 less than the Toronado, although neither was cheap. With every available option, either car was close to $6,000, enough to buy two decently equipped Mustangs.
It was no great surprise, then, that in late 1965, Buick general sales manager Rollie Withers sent an open letter to the press emphatically denying rumors that the Riviera would adopt front-wheel drive. As if to emphasize the point, the Riviera outsold the Toronado, although the margin was fewer than 5,000 units. The Thunderbird still beat them both, but the numbers suggest that Ed Rollert (who had been promoted and replaced as general manager about six months before the Riviera went on sale) had made the right choice in sticking with rear-wheel drive — particularly since some sources suggest each Riviera cost as much as $400 less to build than a Toronado.
RIVIERA ENCORE(S)
The 1966 Buick Riviera outsold its immediate predecessor by around 30%, but that amounted to only about 10,000 units, which was no great feat for an all-new design in a primarily style-driven market segment. The real test came the following year: Although the 1967 Riviera looked almost identical to the ’66 model, sales slipped only 2,549 units. By contrast, sales of the Toronado dropped nearly 50% in its second year.
While the only obvious visual changes to the 1967 Riviera were a new grille and different upholstery patterns, there were several significant mechanical changes. The biggest was an all-new 430 cu. in. (7,041 cc) engine, shared with other full-size Buicks. Developed in part to reduce exhaust emissions, the 430 also had larger valves and better breathing than the old Nailhead, allowing the new engine to match the departed Super Wildcat’s 360 gross horsepower (269 kW) with a single Rochester Quadrajet carburetor. Since the standard Riviera now had a taller 3.07 axle ratio, the average owner was unlikely to notice any difference in performance, although the standard drum brakes were slightly improved to match the bigger engine.
The other big change was that big four-piston front discs were now optional for an extra $78.94, although very few buyers ordered them, probably in part because the disc brakes were not compatible with Buick’s popular and attractive chromed steel wheels. Riviera GS buyers could now order H70-15 Firestone Wide Oval tires or, from early 1967, 225R15 radials. Either choice was a great improvement over the standard 8.45 x 15 tires.
For 1968, the Riviera (and the Toronado) received a more substantial facelift. It was again the work of Dave Holls, although Donald Lasky replaced Holls as Buick chief stylist before the ’68 models debuted.
Like the 1968 Toronado, the revamped Riviera featured a new front-end treatment with a big (and to our eyes, somewhat ungainly looking) wraparound bumper, a split grille, and a longer hood that concealed the windshield wipers. Except for new bodyside moldings, the new Riviera’s profile was largely unchanged, but the nose job and new rear bumper left the 1968 car 4.3 inches (109 mm) longer and noticeably heavier than its predecessor. (Factory shipping weight rose only 33 lb (15 kg), but publications that actually weighed their test cars found curb weights up by more than 100 lb (45 kg).)
The GS package remained available, although as before, it appealed to only 10-11% of Riviera buyers. Buick also offered nothing to match the Toronado’s 400 hp (298 kW) W34 option. Otherwise, the 1968 Riviera had few mechanical changes beyond some minor geometry changes to the rear suspension and of course the various safety features required by new federal regulations. Still, buyers apparently liked the Riviera’s new look, as 1968 sales rose almost by 6,500 units.
Changes to the 1969 Riviera were against modest, including a slightly different grille and a new steering wheel. The big engineering news was minor features buyers were unlikely to notice, such as an electric fuel pump. Most of the new features were shared by Buick’s full-size cars, including variable-rate power steering and revised front suspension geometry that Buick proudly christened Accu-Drive. Accu-Drive allowed the front wheels to lose a little bit of camber in response to bumps, improving stability at the cost of a slight increase in the Riviera’s already-heavy understeer.
Car Life editors, who were deeply skeptical, admitted that Accu-Drive performed as advertised, but judged the handling of their (non-GS) Riviera test car somewhat inferior to that of the 1969 Thunderbird tested in the same issue. Admittedly, that conclusion had less to do with any deficiency of the Riviera than it did with recent suspension improvements for the two-door Thunderbird, which had long been notorious for its marshmallow-like body control.
Even so, the 1969 Riviera’s handling suggested that the model’s executive hot rod days were fast disappearing. An extra 60 lb (27 kg) or so of curb weight didn’t help low-speed performance either. Although the factory shipping weight claimed that the 1969 Riviera was only 19 lb (9 kg) heavier than the 1966 model, Car Life‘s 1969 test car was a hefty 235 lb (107 kg) heavier than their similarly equipped 1966 Riviera GS.
Predictably, most buyers cared not a whit. However much critics (or GM styling executives) may have liked the idea of an oversize luxury pony car or a high-tech engineering showcase, customers seemed more interested in flashy styling, a quiet ride, and pillow-soft suspension. The 1969 Riviera was the first to sell more than 50,000 units — model year production reached 52,872, only 10% of which had the GS option — and the first to outpace the Thunderbird, albeit by only about 3,500 units. The Riviera also left the Toronado for dead, outselling the Oldsmobile by 46%.
THE FINAL FACELIFT
The Riviera and Toronado received a second major facelift for 1970. The styling revamp was fairly extensive and somewhat puzzling, because it would also be short-lived: A third-generation Riviera, designed by Jerry Hirshberg of Buick Studio 2, was already in the works for the 1971 model year, as were a second-generation Toronado and FWD Eldorado.
The rationale for the 1970 makeover is unclear, but we have a lingering suspicion that it was a late decision and that the 1966 E-body shell was originally intended to run for four years, not five. It’s possible that the corporation decided to continue the existing Riviera and Toronado an extra year to make up for disappointing Toronado sales or to allow a four-year run for the Eldorado, which debuted a year later than the others, but if that was the case, why make such a substantial investment in new styling with all-new models only a year away? We have yet to find an authoritative explanation.
In any case, the design for the 1970 Buick Riviera was developed around 1967 under new Buick styling chief Donald Lasky. However, as with the 1963 and 1971 cars, the 1970 reflected the strong influence of Bill Mitchell. Mitchell’s idea was to borrow cues from a prewar Delage, most likely Letourner et Marchand’s spectacular D8-120 Aérosport fastback coupe, an Art Moderne streamliner with a dramatic side sweep that presaged Buick’s later “sweepspear” side trim.
Striking as Marcel Letourner’s original was, its styling themes seemed ill at ease with the Riviera’s flush fenders, serving mainly to make the 1970 Riviera look bulkier than before. The new nose treatment was more successful, wearing its newly exposed quad headlamps far more gracefully than the rather awkward 1970 Toronado, but was also rather anonymous, looking a good deal like Buick’s smaller A-body intermediates.
Under the hood, the 430 cu. in. (7,041 cc) engine was replaced with Buick’s latest 455 cu. in. (7,468 cc) V-8, which superseded both the 430 and the de-bored 400 cu. in. (6,554 cc) V8 previously used on the intermediate GS400. Superficially, the new engine was a 430 with a wider 4 5/16-inch (109.5mm) cylinder bore, but the 455 also had many internal changes, including improved oiling, better water pump seals, and a new coolant recovery system. Gross output rose to 370 horsepower (276 kW) and a whopping 510 lb-ft (691 N-m) of torque, but a taller 2.78 axle ratio on the non-GS model dispelled any illusion that the new Riviera was intended as a performance car. The GS option remained available, but take-up was lower than ever, amounting to only 3,505 cars. (Some sources suggest that the Riviera GS could be ordered with the hotter Stage 1 engine package from the GS455, but even if that was true, we doubt many buyers did so.)
The latest Riviera rated only cursory mention by the automotive press, which seems to have concluded that the Riv was no longer their kind of car. In a 1970 Popular Mechanics survey, even some owners agreed the Riviera wasn’t what it once was, saying they preferred the styling of the 1966–1967 cars. Tellingly, though, most buyer complaints were about the mediocre cargo room and rear seat space. As the Riviera became more of a luxury sedan than a big GT, customers expected it to behave like a sedan as well.
Had Buick known when the 1970 Riviera was designed how well the 1968-1969 cars would sell, the division would probably have stood pat for another year. As it was, sales fell 35%, to 37,366. That was still almost 50% better than the still-struggling Toronado, but it was not a great showing in what was otherwise a decent year for Buick.
In May, 1966, I drove a black one from Ft. Lauderdale to Detroit. I still believe it was one of the most beautiful cars of all time; the only problem was all the attention it got. I am not the flashy type. I ran it up to 115 on a portion of I75 and raced a VW through the mountains of Kentucky. (I could not beat it because the VW cornered so much better.) I do not believe the structure was as stiff as my 1963 Dodge Dart and it certainly took a lot more gas, about 12 miles to the gallon. Perhaps it was my hard driving, but the trip seemed to age the car slightly.
The mileage sounds about typical: 425 cubic inches and 4,400 lb is not a combination conducive to fuel sipping.
By aging the car, do you mean the engine or the ride and handling? A number of contemporary reviewers were dissatisfied with the Riviera’s shocks, which they found under-damped. OEM shock absorbers in those days were not noted for their longevity, so a few thousand miles of hard driving might well have taken a lot of the spring out their step, so to speak. And the engine may have been ready for a tune-up (also common enough in that era).
There was a noise coming from the engine compartment, it could have been a belt. But the structure itself seemed a little weary from the trip, but that could have been because of the shocks. The car was not well dampened. Like any other work of art, it was not designed for utilitarian purposes.
Sat in back seat when we picked our new 1967 riv gas crunch came buick went for a olds 88 sitting on a 1987 G.N. Mis that wildcat motor. speado showed 40 but at second look you could see the 140 higher than the neighbors charger.
I have been enjoying this site for several weeks now. You are a very thorough writer and I love the back story of the designers and the marketplace you give to every model. Their is nothing else like this on the internet. Bravo!
I also enjoyed seeing a shot of my Cad 16 on the site as well as my friends ’56 Studebaker.
Thank you Mr. Severson. I cannot remember reading an article that I did not completely enjoy.You are the (Arch Brown) of the internet.
Another great article – thank you.
The first gen Riv is just so damn goodlooking, and there’s something about the boattail Riv that’s so great, that this one sort of gets lost. But it’s a good looking car. What strikes me now is that, like the contemporary Toronado and Eldorado, it too seemed to look best in its original guise, and subsequent facelifts really didn’t do it any favors. There was a real purity to the 1966 model that worked so well, even compared to its predecessor.
I happen to see a 1970 model (now I know which year it is!) almost every weekend, parked near in a lot near some stores not far from where I live. I’m sure it belongs to an owner or employee of one of the stores, but I’ve never seen the owner. It’s in great condition, and I’m always amazed that it is obviously so frequently driven.
Aaron,
Thank you again for another great article about the Riviera. My father-in-law was a dedicated Buick Man and owned every series of Riviera starting with the 1963 until his death in the 90’s.
I had the pleasure of driving each one of his cars and your articles bring back the pleasure of each Riviera. His and my favorite still remains the Boattail Riv.
V.
Great article about a car that often gets lost in comparison to the more “flashy” vehicles of the era. It’s unfortunate GM didn’t have a better archive and internal history system. 30 to 40 years later it seems unlikley the competition will gain an advantage.
I want to emphasize that the archivists at GM have been extremely helpful in all my dealings with them. Articles like the first-generation Toronado history would have been much poorer without their assistance, and I’m very grateful for their help.
To its great credit, GM [i]has[/i] made a concerted effort to preserve its history and heritage. Historians at major automakers like GM don’t have an easy task, because we’re talking about a huge corporation that has been operating — on a very large scale — for longer than any of its current employees has been alive. The sheer volume of information involved is quite staggering, and keeping EVERYTHING would be impractical, particularly for pre-digital records. While as a historian I inevitably wish it could be otherwise, I also understand that that would probably require creating a medium-sized city devoted to nothing but nine decades of corporate records!
“The Unitized Power Package was very clever and it worked quite well, but it didn’t work dramatically better than a standard rear-drive layout (except in specific areas like wet traction).” The front wheel drive layout did make an important difference in one other area: snow. Front wheel drive makes a car much easier to handle in the snow, especially for “average” drivers. Combining the pulling force of the front wheel drive with the powertrain weight over the drive wheels really makes a difference in slippery conditions.
Why GM did not market this as a feature has always puzzled me. People in Detroit are certainly familiar with snow, and the added traction could have been a selling point.
That is true, and that is something that Toronado owners did stress in owners surveys and the like. Admittedly, these were not cars designed with practicality in mind, in any case: the Toronado wasn’t exactly expansive in passenger or trunk space. If Oldsmobile had made a FWD Vista Cruiser, it would have been unstoppable: flat floors, excellent space, and great snow traction. (Although standard Vista Cruisers were somewhat tail-heavy, so they probably fared better than the sedans in that respect.)
Why didn’t Oldsmobile and Cadillac promote the snow traction aspect? One possibility is that they didn’t want to make the rest of their lines seem inferior, since most of their cars were RWD and likely to remain so for the foreseeable future. I’ve heard a similar theory about why Detroit didn’t really want to promote disc brakes: the logic was that if the automakers emphasized how much better disc brakes worked, people (and perhaps their lawyers) would demand to know why all cars didn’t have discs.
Another point as reported in the AUWN story about the first-generation Toronado was the fact that GM used the UPP for the Toronado and Eldorado under license of Ford Motor Company, which had considered a similar design for a front-wheel-drive Thunderbird in 1961 but later rejected it for production.
I want to be clear (so as not to mislead anyone) that, as I noted in the Toronado article, I don’t know for a fact that GM used the design (or rather a key element covered in Fred Hooven’s Ford patent) under license. I have read rumors to that effect, reported by Car and Driver, inter alia, but I’ve never seen any official confirmation. Not being an engineer or a patent attorney, the question of how different the application of a given idea has to be to skirt around a similar patent is really beyond my expertise — companies spend big bucks on lawyers for these reasons. However, after looking at the Hooven patent against the UPP, it certainly appeared similar enough to at least raise some serious questions.
So, while there may have been a license or other agreement between GM and Ford over that invention, I want to emphasize that that is speculation rather than definite fact.
I did see a vintage Olds ad from 1967 that touted the Toronado’s prowess in the snow. I can’t remember what publication it was in. What I do remember was the magazine was comparing a vintage Toronado and Eldorado.
Parked my 63 beside a 66 GS at a show last week. Yes, it is a handsome car despite having to share the ungainly front overhang of the Toronado and Eldorado. But the big difference is inside – a 63-64 Riviera is a gorgeous car from the inside too, while the 66-67 is typical of the cheapo uniformity that overtook American car interiors by the end of the decade.
Well, when it comes to the ’68-’69-’70 cars, I would agree, but the ’66-’67 Riviera interior is still kind of neat (albeit very Toronado-like), with the drum speedometer and so forth. I haven’t spent enough time in them to judge the relative quality of interior materials, but I do think the ’66-’67 looks reasonably distinctive, whereas the ’68-’69 cars could be pretty much any big American car of this time.
Thanks so much for including the 66 GS engine compartment photo; I’m restoring a 66 GS and was wondering about the heater core (mine leaks). Even my service manual for 1966 shows both inlet and outlet on the left as you face the firewall. Mine is identical to this photo in that the inlet and outlet are on opposite sides of the box. Thanks again.
I’m afraid I don’t know. My suggestion would be to contact either a local Buick club or the Riviera Owners Association and see if they can help you. Sorry!
Actually, my favorite Riviera is the ’70. But I also consider GM C-bodies the best cars ever :)
There is a small mistake: The ’70 pictured here has the long skirts.
Thanks for the correction!
In general I have to say that as a hardcore-enthusiast I have read incredibly much about vintage American cars. But your articles on that subject are by far the best.
Please keep up the great work.
My family was a Buick Family.The best one was a ’53 Roadmaster conv.It was cream/tan top and sadle int.So when I started buying new cars,it was a Buick.I bought a new’65,SEA FOAM GREEN/Wht.int..in 69 I sold it to a friend.I ordered a new ’69 Riv.GS,blk/blk/blk.I immediately changed the tires for big pollyglass raised letter Good/Years.Keeping this one ,in ’79 I bought a sky blue TURBO V6,with a SHOE BOX ROOF.
The ’66 Riviera and its E-platform mates, along with a few other cars (69 Fuselage Chrysler, 71 Fuselage (B body) Plymouth, 69-71 Big Mercury’s) are the last of an optimistic space-age look. They are not 1950s rocket ships with tacked-on pods, nor razor-edge jet fighters. They look more like they’d be shuttle crafts, powered by some type of fusion-gravity system. Syd Mead cars. I can find good in (almost) all eras of styling, but this era has easy favorites.
I agree. I see the shift as something like this: The 1950s began, so far as American styling was concerned, with a lot of very conservative and fairly simple shapes. Designers started off by trying to enliven those shapes with tricks borrowed, in large part, from the customizers — stuff like ‘Frenched’ headlights — while the sales force pushed for more and more decoration in the form of add-on trim. The influence of the Virgil Exner Forward Look Chryslers led to a more adventuresome approach to shape, but some of the results were outlandish or chaotic and they were still rather gorp-encrusted. The recessionary backlash seems to have helped convince the sales organizations that backing off on the chrome might not be the end of the world, resulting in a wave of designs that were more sculptural or architectural than decorative, emphasizing form over detailing in a way that makes them feel very confident.
On the architectural point, what I think makes a lot of the GM cars of this era stand out stylistically is that their draftsmanship is really first rate. There’s a sense that every angle is just right, every detail is where it needs to be, and the proportional relationships (even in seemingly trivial areas) are exceptionally well-calculated. The ’66 Riviera is a good example of the latter; from angles where sheer size would be impressive, its surfaces look vast, but they shrink discretely from other angles so the car never appears cumbersome or merely bulky. That is a hell of a trick even for a concept car, but in this period, GM pulled it off repeatedly, not only with the Riviera, but also with a lot of bread-and-butter cars.
The 1970 re-style always looked to me like it was Buick’s attempt to better the 1969 Mercury Marauder X-100.
It is hard to understand making that much of a change for only one model year, especially considering that both the Eldorado and Toronado just got the ordinary grill and tail light refreshings, not major sheet metal changes. And, of course the ’71 was just a year away. I remember back in the day, I didn’t like the ’70 Riviera at all, but over time, I have come to appreciate what they were trying to do.
On another point, you mention the ‘Toronado’s 400hp (298KW)W30 option’ — actually the 68 – 70 Toronado high performance option was the W34. The W30 was only in the A-body 442.
Thanks for catching the W30/W34 glitch — I’ve corrected it in the text. (The W34 option is discussed in the Toronado articles, so that was just a typographical error.)
The lead times for new model styling are such that there’s no way a 1969 model could have meaningfully influenced the 1970 facelift, and in any case, Buick’s incentive for copying Mercury would be limited. Buick sold 49,284 Rivieras in 1968 and 52,872 in 1969 while 1969 X-100 sales were 5,635; why imitate a rival you outsell 9:1?
My suspicion is that the E-body cars were originally supposed to be redesigned for 1970, not 1971. Exactly what occasioned the one-year-only facelift I don’t claim to know, but my guess is that either the late debut of the Eldorado, disappointing sales of the Toronado, or a combination of the two were otherwise going to leave the corporation with an iffy return on their substantial investment in the UPP project. Obviously, Buick didn’t end up sharing that and the Riviera sold quite well, but being tied to the E-body shell meant it couldn’t be economically redesigned without its siblings.
My first car was a beautiful and very fast ‘70 Riv. It was white, with black vinyl roof, and black leather interior. It was maxed out with PW, PL, PS, CCAC, and of course the 455-4bbl. Had the long skirts…and had lots of better than great times cruising and beating many cars! Consistently it averaged 18 mpg, which is why I’m so shocked to read otherwise. Still, her memories have only sweetened. Since then I’ve had several other Buick’s 2 of which were Rivs…a ‘85 & a ‘96. My ‘70 had all of the ones that followed chasing after it, not just in speed, but in design, comfort, and wow!
Dad bought a new ’66 Rivi in Shell Beige with the fawn interior with bucket seats and console. It was beautiful and drew “oohs and ahs” at the local curb-service drive-ins where we kids hung out. Was my favorite car ever, so much so that I now own an identical one, this time a GS, same colors. The sheer simplicity of the black dashboard and off-white interior with console and shifter to me is poetry. Back in the day, rolling the windows down and cruising without the vent windows was a revelation — quiet and buffet-free. Today, my ’66 Rivi sits a couple inches lower than my Lexus LS-460 daily driver.
Hello, my 69 GS Riviera need electric actuator can some one lead me to a good site to purchase this kit?
Sorry, I don’t sell parts, and I can’t advise you on where to buy parts!
I had no idea you could get the ’70 without the side molding and full skirts. They’re so rare, it must have been by special delete order. A commenter at an auction site claimed the small skirts were a late introduction due to the unpopularity of the big ones, but they’re in the Riviera folder at oldcarbrochures.com (but it does call them “new”). I sorta like the ’70 Toronado, but what was Buick thinking? Why go retro for one year (not that anything could lead smoothly into the Boattail)? It’s almost as incongruous as the ’71 Eldorado, a major multi-year error. Did Mitchell have a divorce or illness in this period?
I’ve yet to see any definitive explanation for the 1970 E-bodies. My best guess is that sometime in 1966–67, someone higher up the food chain (e.g., Ed Cole) looked at the development costs, sales, and sales projections for the E-bodies and concluded that to meet ROI targets, the cars would have to continue for an extra year, and there was a scramble to come up with an additional variation on the existing shell. I think after the launch of the Toronado and second-generation Riviera, there was also a sense among the styling studios that the big semi-fastback look was not where the market was going: The 1970 Tornado tried to tone it down, while the 1970 Riviera tried to frame it as what we’d now call retro, both constrained by the need to keep the hardpoints of the 1966 body shell. If someone knows of a designer interview or the like that provides a more coherent, less-speculative explanation, I’d love to see it.