Vintage AMS Review: 1963 Buick Riviera – “It Can Be Driven Faster Than Its Wheelcovers Can Handle”

 

The 1963 Buick Riviera has won worldwide acclaim for its crisp styling, but how did its performance and road manners measure up to European standards? In November 1963, the West German magazine Auto, Motor und Sport (AMS) tried a rare European export Riviera. Here’s their review, which CC offers for the first time in English translation.

This Reinhard Seiffert article originally appeared in Auto, Motor und Sport 24/1963, cover-dated 30 November 1963. Although this was actually after the start of the 1964 model year (something Seiffert noted towards the end of the text), the test car was a 1963 Riviera, offered in Europe by General Motors Continental in Antwerp, Belgium, at a significantly higher price than the U.S. car.

Seiffert began with a brief introduction to this model:

The Buick Riviera is the General Motors counterpart to the Ford Thunderbird. Anyone familiar with the Thunderbird (see test report in issue 4/1962) can imagine what to expect: not a sports car, but a two-door, four-seater coupé of enormous dimensions with a huge and powerful engine. In the Riviera, it is a 6.6 liter (of course a V8) with 319 SAE hp. Such cars differ from large sedans in about the same way that Mercedes coupes differ from their parent models — they have a sporty appearance without having any other driving characteristics.

The 319 hp figure is puzzling: Buick’s four-barrel 401 engine normally had an SAE gross rating of 325 hp and 445 lb-ft of torque. I wondered briefly if the engine might have been detuned a little for European gasoline, but the spec panel lists the same 10.25 to 1 compression ratio as U.S. engines and the same 445 lb-ft of torque (although the torque peak is listed as 2,400 rpm rather than 2,800 rpm). It’s conceivable that someone, perhaps in the GM office in Antwerp, did the metric conversion in the wrong direction; 325 PS (metric) would be about 319 hp (mechanical), so maybe someone just got their wires crossed. I don’t know.

Europeans who come near a Buick Riviera are initially intimidated by the enormous size of the car. The shape of the two-door coupé, which we are quite familiar with and accustomed to up to Mercedes dimensions, has been increased to gigantic proportions here. With the Thunderbird, we already asked ourselves why a coupé had to be so big, and the Riviera looks even more monumental, especially in dark blue like our test car.

The 1963 Riviera was not a huge car by American standards: At 208 inches overall on a 117-inch wheelbase, it was 7.7 inches shorter than a 1963 LeSabre and 13.7 inches shorter than an Electra 225. However, it was a foot longer than a contemporary Mercedes-Benz 300SEL sedan. As for the color, Buick offered several shades of blue in 1963, but I’m guessing the AMS test car was Diplomat Blue, like the car in the color photos in this post.

 

Seiffert continued:

Wasted space also characterizes the interior: The Riviera has four seats, which, despite their considerable size, do not manage to fill the available width. Between the front seats, the automatic gearbox selector lever protrudes from a console, and between the rear seats is the grille of a speaker which, in terms of size and sound quality, would do credit to a posh hi-fi system. The doors are wide enough to reach the front edge of the rear seat; they can be opened easily from the rear because they have two handles — one for the occupants of each row of seats. Seat comfort is, of course, only average at the front and rear, the upholstery is not very firm, and the rear knee room is modest in relation to the overall dimensions of the car. The trunk is also relatively small, as almost half of it is taken up by the huge spare wheel. Courtesy lights are scattered all over the interior of the car, which suddenly light up without you even realizing that you have switched them on. All windows except the triangular front vent windows are electrically operated, and the sky is always blue because the upper edge of the windshield is tinted.

Part of the reason the rear seat speaker was so big was that it was the only speaker for the Riviera’s various radio options in 1963. The additional door handles for rear passengers were part of the optional custom trim package, which also included the woodgrain trim. This custom interior option cost $69.88 with cloth and vinyl trim, or $188.13 with leather and vinyl, which I believe is what the car in the color photos has. Power windows were a $107.50 option on the U.S. Riviera; you could also have power vent windows for an additional $53.75. Although the AMS article doesn’t include a complete equipment list, my guess is that GM Continental selected a more extensive list of standard equipment for the Riviera.

 

The 1963 U.S. Riviera brochure proclaimed:

Uninterrupted by needless strips of chrome beading, [the Riviera’s] sophisticated custom-coachwork appearance is the result of an exclusive new body construction technique. Like the finest custom imports, the Riviera’s sheer glass side windows have no metal frames. The unique, sleek Riviera look is enhanced by its windscreen and rear window being sealed tight to the body…instead of being encased in more ordinary metal and rubber frames. Quality is apparent everywhere.

AMS was not sold on the Riviera’s build quality:

One should not have high expectations for quality of workmanship: perfunctorily concealed seams and wide gaps are typical of mass production, and the tinny sound of the door, which does not close particularly easily, would be resented even in a 5000-mark car. On the other hand, it’s obvious that the body is solidly built in basic substance (which, by the way, involves the use of some quite interesting metal-bonding methods).

In 1963, the 5,000-mark class in West Germany included the likes of the Opel Kadett, Ford Taunus 12M, and Volkswagen 1200. Since the estimated West German price of the Riviera was DM 30,400 according to the spec sheet, this was not a compliment.

 

Buick modestly proclaimed that the 1963 Riviera “brings the most exceptional ride and handling in the entire automotive industry.” The German reviewers, predictably, were not convinced of that either:

“Chassis: Faster Than Its Wheelcovers”

When dealing with this monster, you realize once again that the driver plays a very subordinate role in the American car. If he wants to turn right, he turns the steering wheel to the right, whereupon a machine turns the wheels for him in the desired direction. If he wants to brake, he presses lightly on the brake pedal, whereupon a machine applies the brakes. If he wants to drive faster or slower, he presses the accelerator pedal, whereupon the engine and automatic transmission initiate the corresponding reactions without his involvement. This ensures that the driver never exceeds his authority: for example, if he drives into a bend a little faster than normal, the tires start to squeal and the car tends to go on the ropes, whereupon the driver quickly desists from his outrageous actions. If he brakes too hard, he almost flies through the windshield, and if he accelerates too much, the wheels spin. Condemning the driver to passivity in this way is the principle of the American car. It can be assumed that most American drivers have no idea how such a vehicle behaves in extreme situations.

Seiffert was being somewhat hyperbolic here. Power steering and power brakes, both standard on the Riviera, were not very common on European cars in this era, but they weren’t completely unknown either. I’m sure Seiffert was well aware that a car with hydraulic power steering and a vacuum brake booster really didn’t operate that differently from a contemporary car without those options, although the amount degree of assistance and lack of feedback were disconcerting for a European driver.

(The photo caption at the bottom of the first column reads, “The front seat area offers an unusually large amount of space. Every corner under the hood (pictured on the far right) is filled.”)

Seiffert continued:

The U.S. motorist is at the mercy of his car’s undulations; there is not much he can do in an emergency. For example, the power steering, which works practically without resistance but also without road feel, does not allow you to take tight bends quickly because it is so indirect that you would have to constantly turn the steering wheel at tremendous speed. For the same reason, however, it also does not allow sudden evasive maneuvers: the U.S. driver has to hit obstacles much more helplessly than his European counterpart.

This was again something of an exaggeration: The 1963 Riviera’s steering was fairly direct for an American car of this era, with 3.5 turns lock-to-lock, not much different from a Mercedes W111 or W112 with power steering, and while U.S. automakers preferred non-reversible recirculating ball steering with less road feel than rack-and-pinion, the same was true of Mercedes-Benz.

 

Seiffert went on:

The principle of passive (“defensive”) driving is the reason why there are no problems in the USA with roadholding or brakes, which are often discussed here. Driving at the limit is practically out of the question. When you test a car like the Buick Riviera for its technical driving qualities, you almost feel unfriendly and tactless — it’s like trying to test a charming, elegantly groomed girl during an evening party for her skills in the 100-meter dash, digging, and mental arithmetic. When cornering at speed, all the wheelcovers flew off the Buick in short order (which is not without danger on the road) — a sign that its maker does not even remotely think that the corresponding cornering speeds could occur in practice. The rims warp, and apparently not only the rims, because after 600 test kilometers, the front wheel alignment, which was previously carefully checked, was no longer correct.

 

 

Buick’s brochure copy claimed:

No other car handles quite like the Riviera, either. It can take sharp turns at speeds that ordinary cars would have trouble with. Its back wheels track perfectly with the front, with no sensation of the rear end swinging out. The Riviera body stays unusually level, its wheels hold the road with a new and remarkable fidelity. § Smooth and easy, quiet and controlled—that’s Riviera every mile, on ever road.

For a driver stepping out of an Electra 225 or a Thunderbird, this was probably a fair assessment, but the Riviera was less impressive from a European perspective. Seiffert said:

It’s no wonder that the chassis doesn’t really play along if you have the necessary ruthlessness to approach the car the way you can most European cars without a second thought. The car starts to roll and pitch in bends, its elegant composure completely lost. On bad roads, the rear axle (despite being precisely guided by trailing arms) jumps sideways, and the body lean when cornering is frightening.

Nevertheless, you can’t say that the car becomes unsafe. It is directionally stable and remains well-behaved even when the rear wheels break loose. The most noticeable limit is in tight bends, where the car understeers so much (i.e., pushes forwards and outwards) that you simply can’t get around. Any well-driven European small car will easily outpace you here. On the whole, however, you can’t say that the Buick handles badly; in any case, it can be driven faster than its wheelcovers can handle!

Buick did offer a heavy-duty suspension option for the Riviera in 1963, offering stiffer springs and shock absorbers for a modest cost of $5.38. It’s not unlikely that cars offered in Europe had that package or something similar — stiffer “export” suspensions were commonly specified for the smattering of U.S. cars sold abroad — but if the test car had it, it didn’t offer much improvement. The standard 1963 Riviera suspension was so soft (wheel rates were 90 pounds per inch in front, 91 lb/inch in back) that the underpinnings would have to be stiffened a lot to even reach the level of “firm.”

 

The 1963–1965 Riviera, like other full-size Buicks of this time, used what were by American standards above-average brakes: 12-inch finned drums, aluminum in front. Their lining area and swept drum area were not exceptional. In fact, they had 16 percent less effective lining area and 7.5 square inches less swept area than the 11-inch drums on a 1963 full-size Chevrolet, which was several hundred pounds lighter than the Riviera. The advantage of the Buick brakes was that the larger finned drums, and the aluminum front brakes, provided somewhat better heat dissipation ability.

You might assume this would make the Riviera better-suited than most American cars for the higher speeds of European driving, but AMS felt otherwise:

“Brakes: Soon at the End”

Even at high speeds, it behaves more pleasantly than other USA cars. Chassis and transmission remain quiet when you get into the un-American 160 and 170 km/h [100 to 105 mph] range. The body makes remarkably little wind noise and the engine runs smoothly. The brakes, however, are not up to such speeds. They are adequate in normal operation, but did not even survive a single braking maneuver from 160 km/h [100 mph] — by around 70 km/h [44 mph], the braking effect was gone. Although they recovered quickly, our routine brake measurement showed that they are very sensitive to fading, and after the usual downhill braking there was not much braking effect left. The brakes of the Thunderbird tested in 1962 were considerably better, but braked unevenly when warm.

You can see here that the previous rejection of disc brakes by the major American companies has no sound basis. Although it is always said that nobody complains about the brakes, it will be the same there as here: the public and even the experts are unaware that far more accidents than the statistics show are due to inadequate braking or sideways swerving during braking.

Although the test to which Seiffert referred didn’t mention it, the 1962 Thunderbird that AMS drove (which was officially imported by Ford-Werke) almost certainly had heavy-duty “export” brake linings, which gave it much better fade resistance than the typical U.S. OEM fit. In stock U.S. form, the Riviera had better brakes than the T-Bird (whose stock brakes were borderline scary even by contemporary standards). Judging by this test, the brake linings of the export Riviera were little if any more fade-resistant than those on U.S. cars, which just wasn’t enough for European driving.

This is illustrated by the diagrams on the bottom of the above page. The top graph shows deceleration rate in m/s²; the bottom graph shows pedal force in kg:

The accompanying caption reads:

The braking diagrams (full braking from 80 km/h [50 mph]) clearly show that the brakes of the Riviera cannot cope with the high weight of the car. When the brakes were cold (solid line), the effect was sufficient, but did not come close to the values of comparable European cars. After warming up on the test slope, the brakes were no longer able to bring the car to a standstill: the braking effect almost completely disappeared despite high pedal pressure. The brake booster, which kept the necessary pedal pressure very low when the brakes were cold, was useless in this case.

 

AMS was also none too satisfied with the Riviera’s ride:

There is another aspect in which “better” American cars, such as the Buick Riviera (U.S. price approx. 4000 dollars), are clearly inferior to their European counterparts: the suspension. Due to their high weight, they make a heavy and comfortable impression, but the suspension tuning often proves to be quite inadequate. This is also the case with the Buick Riviera. The rear axle is unable to cope with short bumps; it starts to buck and pound. Longer bumps cause considerable vertical movement of the rear of the car, especially at slow and medium speeds with few occupants aboard. Despite the voluminous tires (15-inch wheels!), you are never left in the dark about the condition of the road surface. The fact that the Americans are satisfied with this is probably due to the predominantly good condition of American roads.

Incidentally, the data panel reveals that the AMS test car had the optional 7.60-15 whitewall tires (standard Riviera tire size was 7.10-15), a $59.99 option on U.S. cars.

 

The Riviera won more favor for its powertrain, which AMS found very impressive:

“Engine and Transmission: Superior”

However, the Riviera has convincing qualities to offer in other areas — namely, if you drive it the way most Americans do: slowly in bends, moderately fast on straight roads. You can afford to do this and still achieve good average speeds thanks to the almost inexhaustible power reserves. The car doesn’t even seem to accelerate in the usual sense — you just press harder on the accelerator pedal to reach any desired higher speed in just a few seconds. You can get from 50 to 100 km/h [31 to 62 mph] in around 4 seconds, and not much more to go from 80 to 120 [50 to 75 mph]. When it comes to acceleration, the drivers of most European sports cars, including the Porsche Carrera and the Mercedes 230SL, will be looking at the Buick Riviera’s broad exhaust pipes.

Some highlights of the performance figures in the data panel at the left:

• 0 to 100 km/h (0 to 62 mph): 8.6 seconds
• 0 to 160 km/h (0 to 100 mph); 24.2 seconds
• 1 kilometer with standing start: 30.3 seconds at 118.8 km/h [73.8 mph]
• Top speed: 190.5 km/h [118.4 mph]

These were outstanding figures by contemporary European standards, even if they weren’t a match for the hottest American models.

 

AMS found the Riviera’s powertrain refinement as impressive as its performance:

The car gives you little indication of how it does all this. The silky-smooth running eight-cylinder engine is only moderately audible, and there is hardly any noticeable activity from the torque converter with two-speed gearbox; there are no perceptible gear changes. Just how demanding the Americans are in these respects can be seen from the fact that the latest version of the Riviera is again equipped with a three-speed automatic transmission — General Motors has been fluctuating between two and three gears for years and constantly achieving better results. The prerequisite for this is, of course, highly elastic engines of large displacement, and with these engines you have to accept that they consume between 20 and 30 liters of gasoline per 100 km (7.8 to 11.8 mpg). The Buick’s tank, which holds 76 liters [20 U.S. gallons], was constantly empty.

The data panel actually lists the Riviera’s fuel consumption as 20 to 25 liters per 100 km (9.4 to 11.8 mpg), although in the above paragraph, I think Seiffert was talking about large American cars generally, not only the Riviera.

Their test car was a ’63, which was the last year for the old Turbine Drive torque converter automatic, previously known as Twin Turbine and before that Variable Pitch Dynaflow. The reason this had no perceptible gear changes was that there weren’t any, although you could manually select Low for better acceleration up to around 60 mph. As Seiffert indicated, the 1964 Riviera had a new three-speed Super Turbine 400 (Turbo Hydra-Matic) transmission; this provided better performance than Turbine Drive and was almost as smooth.

Seiffert summed up:

There are more suitable cars for our roads than the Buick Riviera. They even exist at Buick — for example, the Buick Special Skylark, which has the external dimensions of a Mercedes 220, has a 3.5 liter V 8 engine, brakes more safely due to its lower weight, corners more willingly, and behaves more European on the whole. U.S. cars of this more compact type are still suitable for our conditions; incidentally, just like the larger ones, they have the advantage of being robust and lasting a long time. But for America, these are half measures. The trend towards the gigantic is unmistakable.

What can we take from this? Some of the AMS criticism of the Riviera were what I’d call a “horses for courses” issue: The Riviera didn’t cope very well when driven aggressively at high speeds on narrower, rougher European roads, but, as Seiffert acknowledged, Buick obviously hadn’t contemplated any such thing — not being able to run a marathon in ballet flats isn’t necessarily any reflection on the shoemaker. On the other hand, American drivers sometimes encountered broken pavement and uneven road surfaces too, and even at lower speeds, such conditions revealed how much U.S. cars in this class sacrificed in favor of an ultra-plush smooth-pavement ride. The AMS brake tests also revealed that the Riviera’s brakes, above average or not, were still marginal, and not up to any sustained hard use. Cars like this really needed big vented discs, but front discs weren’t offered on the Riviera at all until 1967 and remained rare until becoming standard for 1971.

 

The other point we shouldn’t overlook was price. In 1963, a base Riviera listed for $4,333 in the U.S., and adding every non-conflicting factory would bring the tab to $5,912.30. This was a lot of money: MeasuringWorth estimates that the price of a loaded Riviera was equivalent to about $61,338 in January 2025 dollars, with a “relative value” of $75,973. However, with an estimated West German price of DM 30,400 — $7,600 at the 1963 exchange rate — the export Riviera was at least 30 percent more expensive, and it’s not clear if that included air conditioning, a $430 option on U.S. Rivieras. Add to this a hefty annual road tax, insurance, and the cost of keeping the “Wildcat 445” engine fed on super-premium fuel, and cars like this were well out of reach for most Europeans. The few people who had the opportunity to drive or own them quite naturally held these cars to different, and sometimes higher, critical standards, which the Riviera lived up to in some respects and not others. A Mercedes-Benz 300SE coupe, which cost 950 marks ($237.50) more, wasn’t as quick as the Buick, and its four-speed K4A 025 wasn’t nearly as smooth as Turbine Drive or Turbo Hydra-Matic, but the Benz had much better brakes, greater composure on broken pavement, and significantly better workmanship.

 

Today, of course, big American cars like the Riviera have a substantial following in Europe (buoyed to no small extent by special dispensation for “oldtimers” on road tax and insurance rates), and their modern fans find the ways these older cars differ from European norms charming and novel rather than mockable. Time may not heal all wounds, but it tends to do wonders for the reputation and image of classic cars.

Related Reading

Vintage AMS Review: 1962 Ford Thunderbird – A German Take on an American “Dream Car” (by me)
Curbside Classic: 1963 Buick Riviera – Hitting All The Right Notes (by Jon Stephenson)
Vintage Motor Trend Road Test: 1963 Buick Riviera – Hot Rod Nailhead Buick (by Paul N)
COAL: 1963 Buick Riviera – “Here’s Where Man And Riviera Get To Know Each Other” (by Aaron65)
COAL: 1963 Buick Riviera – “Wouldn’t You Really… (by JJPowers)
Curbside Musings: 1964 Buick Riviera – Emulating One’s Heroes (by Joseph Dennis)
Curbside Classic: 1964 Buick Riviera – The Peak GM Experience (by Paul N)
Vintage Review: 1965 Buick Riviera GS – The Ultimate Riviera; In Looks And Performance (by Paul N)