Car Show Classic: 1965 Plymouth Valiant Signet Convertible – You Are Who You Are, Until You Aren’t

We are all subject to self-imposed rules, and one of mine is the “90% rule.” Through some swampy combination of genetics and environment, our temperaments are fixed at an early age, and any effort to fight them results in internal conflicts and phantom medical maladies. Therefore, if you try to be someone you’re not (as in straying more than 10% from your personal paradigm, hence the 90% rule), discomfort results. You can, however, be the best person you can be within your idiom, and that’s why I like this Valiant.

It hasn’t been that long since the sight of a ’65 Valiant would leave me puzzled. How, I complained, could anyone buy something so mundane when presented with the visual cornucopia that constituted that incomparable model year. There were Mustangs, Corvair Corsas, Rivieras, Comet Cyclones, Catalina 2+2s, Corvettes, BOP intermediates, and Impala Sport Coupes on dealer lots in 1965…and someone chose a Valiant?

Well, yeah. It was inexpensive, for one thing. There were Mopar people back then (for another), as there are now, and the Valiant is a clean example of a ’60s compact. It’s arguably less cluttered than a Falcon or a Comet, and at least as well-proportioned as a Chevy II. Few could claim that it’s anywhere near as attractive as a ’65 Corvair or a Mustang, but those cars have long been regarded as automotive art. So what changed my mind on the Valiant?

Clearly, it was the Dirty Dart (which is fundamentally a Valiant from the A-Pillar back): I became one of those people who were once the focus of my derision. Living with something for a while can change one’s views considerably, and the Dart is a reliable, slightly quirky old car. And as I mentioned before, it was inexpensive.

Our featured Valiant is a top-of-the-line Signet, which is the Plymouth equivalent of a Falcon Futura, a Nova, or a Corvair Monza. In essence, like the others, it’s a run-of-the-mill compact dressed up with bucket seats, a console, some fancy badging, and some sportier wheel covers.

These minor updates made a significant difference to the appearance of any of these compacts. Throw in a little extra trim on the dashboard and doors in the case of the Signet, and its almost vulgar cheapness becomes more akin to European minimalism. Sometimes, a little change or two makes all the difference.

To me, the exterior of Valiant Signet emits a pseudo-European compact vibe, perhaps because it eschews the extraneous trim one might expect from a fancier nameplate, and the trim that did make it past the drawing board is tasteful, such as the brightwork between the taillights. The sheetmetal stampings cleverly allowed other A-Body front clips to be affixed without modification, which made for an expedient Dart wagon. Plus, the Valiant is indeed fairly tidy for an American car, coming in at 188.2″ in length, about five inches longer than a Corvair.

I have a Swedish brochure for the 1965 Valiant line, and its moody illustrations fit the Valiant’s lines perfectly; one need not possess much imagination to picture a Valiant as a background extra in an Ingmar Bergman film from the era.

Unfortunately, the Signet’s clean lines and rugged Slant Six or LA-series V8 durability didn’t translate into groundbreaking sales, especially in the convertible line.

The availability of those previously-mentioned compacts certainly ate into potential sales of sportier Valiants, as evidenced by the sales numbers of convertibles in the segment.

Valiant Signet convertible: 2578 

Mustang convertible: 101,945 (all versions, extended model year)

Falcon convertible: 6615 (Futura and Sprint combined)

Corvair convertible: 34,819 (Monza and Corsa combined)

Comet Caliente convertible: 6035

Even the hardtop Signet only sold 10,999 units, although the Barracuda certainly siphoned off some sales with its sportier image, selling 64,596 in 1965 (not a bad number until you compare it to the Mustang). Total Valiant sales were 167,153.

Clearly, the Signet had its hands full in 1965. But it’s honest and vaguely elegant, like we all should be when looking in the mirror. We are who we are, but I’ve become just a little bit better by reevaluating my relationship with 1965 Darts and Valiants. There’s nothing wrong with being practical, and the Signet manages to have a little fun while doing it.

P.S. One of the downsides of taking pictures of so many cars and writing for this website for over 10 years is the danger of covering the same ground. After finishing this one off, I realized I had hit upon a similar theme for a similar car back in 2014. Still, I hope you enjoy the lovely featured Signet.