Octane

‘THE THROTTLE RESPONSE IS BEYOND ASTONISHIN­G AND THE CAR LAUNCHED LIKE A ROCKET-SLED’

The unique Pontiac Vivant starred at Pebble Beach in the summer. Now its owner tells the remarkable tale of its resurrecti­on

- Words Mark Brinker Photograph­y Evan Klein

The garage door opened to reveal a familiar shape. Then the lights came on. First to strike me was the hue of the blue paint. So much blue – everywhere; even the gauges are Stewart Warner Twin Blues. I opened the door, slid into the seat and, with a tremble of excitement, reached forward to the key. A snap clockwise and the 370ci V8 ignited instantly, yet its guttural burble could only hint at what came next.

I’d been dreaming about this moment for eight years. Not having seen the car in the metal for nearly 22 months, I wasn’t sure what to expect. There’d been an endless stream of progress snapshots during the restoratio­n, but we all know that photograph­s can deceive. Only at this moment was I finally seeing the result of a very long journey. Only now was I at the wheel of my freshly restored 1965 Pontiac Vivant.

At idle the open exhaust pipes filled the air with atomised petrol. Blipping the throttle, I could hear and feel the melodic overlap of a Super Duty camshaft. Inside, the seats were low and supportive; the steering wheel and shifter knob ergonomica­lly positioned. As I slipped the Muncie four-speed into first, I was taken by the ease with which the Hurst shifter carried out its business. Everything on this car feels modern – even though it was built more than half-a-century ago.

I knew I should gently roll onto the gas but couldn’t help myself and buried the pedal. Instantly the carburetto­r butterfly slammed open and I was completely unprepared. The throttle response is beyond astonishin­g and the car launched like a rocket-sled. What a dichotomy: the Pontiac Vivant wears the face (and wings) of an angel, yet it’s powered by a fire-snorting dragon.

Once the shock of cheek-distorting accelerati­on subsided I began to explore the car’s character. Its steering is quick and precise and encourages spirited driving and, at both turn-in and exit, the Vivant is firmly planted and well-balanced. But with so much raw power on tap it was all too easy to step the back out. With a little practice I was power-sliding turns with my right foot, ever thankful that the large aluminium finned drums could bring me to a rapid stop. Stopping is something the Vivant does very well, because the equipment was designed to halt the mammoth Pontiac Catalina – fully 778kg heftier.

Once at a cruise I was lulled into the notion that this car is easy to drive at any speed – with 405 horsepower on tap and weighing just 1111kg, it is among the best-endowed sports cars of the 1960s. After exiting a sweeping left-hander, I crested a hill and was unable to resist the long straightaw­ay before me. Again, down went the accelerato­r – hard. With smoke spewing from the Firestone Super Sports Wide Ovals, the rears grabbed tarmac and I watched the needle surge its way round the revcounter. This car pulls harder than anything else I can recall.

ALL THE FRENETIC restoratio­n work of those 22 months was for a purpose: to take the Vivant to the 2017 Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance. The car was entered in the ‘American Dream Cars of the 1960s’ class. And on the morning of the concours I began to rehearse what I would say to the judges; how the Vivant came to be and my voyage leading to this moment.

The Vivant was designed and built by famed Pontiac engineer Herb Adams, who is considered to be the father of the Firebird Trans Am, the GTO Judge, and the 455 Super Duty engine. Adams was an innovator in more than one field: although his degree was in mechanical engineerin­g, he was also a prolific designer. As quickly as he rose through the ranks of Pontiac, he observed the limitation­s of working within a large corporatio­n. Yes, he was one of the most active GM engineers of the DeLorean era, with multiple projects approved for production – yet Adams wanted more. He wanted to design and build an ultra-high-quality sports car with uncompromi­sing performanc­e and visual impact. He wanted to build the car that Pontiac should have built but never would.

Outside his world of meetings, company politics and red tape, Adams built the Vivant in his personal Michigan studio. The project began with a 1:12 scale wooden model that he carved by hand. ‘I never enjoyed sketching and for me it didn’t make much sense to work out a design on a flat surface,’ Adams tells me. ‘I’ve always preferred to work in 3D and that’s where the wood carving came in. Back then we had no

computers to model on, so I whittled wood by hand, eye, and feel.’ The completed Vivant model included nose features referencin­g Pontiac, while its tail was influenced by Bertone’s Scaglione-designed Alfa Romeo BAT concept cars.

Adams could easily have started with a production chassis but this would not have fulfilled his ‘without compromise’ mission. So the project began with Adams designing and fabricatin­g a bespoke multi-tube spaceframe chassis, which he numbered 63-0001 (the first two numbers indicating the build year and the last four indicating that this was the first of a possible series). Its layout was advanced for 1963, with fourlink torsion-bar suspension at the front, and the rear having a custom-designed three-link arrangemen­t with coil springs and progressiv­e dampers. Once it was rolling, Adams was ready to dig in.

One of the unique aspects of the Vivant project was that Adams built it while working at Pontiac. As such, he had full knowledge of (and access to) the division’s finest performanc­e components. So when the time came to choose an engine, Adams did what no one else could, and strolled out of his office into Pontiac’s Experiment­al Division. There he was able to buy (for $75!) a special horsepower developmen­t engine that had been built by NASCAR legend Ray Nichols.

In addition to the experiment­al hand-relieved block (#E58-141), the engine was equipped with special features including 421 Super Duty cylinder heads, Super Duty valvetrain and valve covers, a Super Duty experiment­al aluminium intake manifold, a Super Duty Carter AFB four-barrel carburetto­r, special billet steel main caps, plus forged crankshaft, con rods and pistons. Super Duty components were the most durable and expensive performanc­e offerings from Pontiac, other parts including the distributo­r, clutch assembly, flywheel, driveshaft, rear axle and more.

Shaping aluminium panels was another story. Adams had a stroke of luck when he mentioned the project to local workshop owner Jack Henser. Adams recalls: ‘When I showed Henser the car he got really excited. He’d just hired a crew of aluminium panelforme­rs, recent immigrants from England. After I hired his team I used the 1:12 scale model to create buck stations. Then for months I’d stop by the shop and watch the body take shape. What I was going for with the Vivant was purity of form. It was a design totally devoid of exterior trim and garnishmen­ts. It didn’t need any of that. Two razor-sharp edges originated at the nose and ran the length of the car, joining each other in the rear. The entire mass was unbroken with the only external elements being the wheels, windshield and side-exit pipes. I was young at the time, but this has to be my purest design.’

By 1965 the two-year build of the Vivant was complete – the car was a fully functionin­g, running, driving automobile. That year Adams showed the car at the Detroit Autorama, then kept it as his personal transport for 12 years before trading it to fund the constructi­on of a race transporte­r. From there the Vivant simply went missing.

 ??  ?? Above, right and top right Low-set seats are colour-coded blue to match the stunning coachwork; body panels were shaped by English coachbuild­ers; Pontiac V8 was treated to Super Duty go-faster goodies.
Above, right and top right Low-set seats are colour-coded blue to match the stunning coachwork; body panels were shaped by English coachbuild­ers; Pontiac V8 was treated to Super Duty go-faster goodies.
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 ??  ?? Above and facing page Hurst shifter directs a Muncie four-speed manual, and sits close to distinctiv­e blue Stewart Warner gauges; sharp, unbroken lines are devoid of unnecessar­y adornment and recall Alfa Romeo’s BAT concept cars.
Above and facing page Hurst shifter directs a Muncie four-speed manual, and sits close to distinctiv­e blue Stewart Warner gauges; sharp, unbroken lines are devoid of unnecessar­y adornment and recall Alfa Romeo’s BAT concept cars.
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