Is this the grandest Grand Prix? If you could poll every living Pontiac fan, the 1969 GP would stand a good change of coming out on top for its balance of style, swagger, and speed. The contemporary automotive press loved it too — and none so much as the editors of Car Life, who were so impressed that they gave Pontiac a special Engineering Excellence Award for it. Here’s their February 1969 road test of the most desirable 1969 Grand Prix, a Model SJ with the rare 428 H.O. engine.
It’s no great surprise that the 1969 Grand Prix was a big hit with the buff books. The B-body Grand Prix, which had been so handsome back in 1962 and 1963, had seemed to lose its way as it got bigger; the 1968 edition was as soggy in concept as it was in road manners. The 1969 car was a different story: Instead of a dressed-up full-size Pontiac, it was now a long-nose version of the midsize Pontiac GTO, with squared-off new styling featuring a formal roofline whose tooling costs Pontiac had agreed to split with Chevrolet (which would shortly use it for the 1970 Monte Carlo). The Grand Prix was a personal luxury coupe in price and positioning, but mechanically, it was a dressed-up muscle car — Car Life called it a tiger in a tuxedo.
1969 Pontiac Grand Prix Model SJ — I have no idea why it has a California front plate, since it’s registered in Texas and was originally purchased in Ohio / Bring a Trailer
All 1969 GPs had the wraparound dash, but bucket seats and a center console were optional, as were this car’s air conditioning and automatic climate control / Bring a Trailer
This wasn’t the first Car Life Engineering Excellence Award, but the magazine decided that rather than the usual trophy or plaque, they would commission a unique award that would be “as interesting a design effort as the original car was.” They contracted San Francisco Bay Area sculptor Don Conrad to create one of his signature kinetic wire sculptures, using a series of thin stainless steel wires on a lacquered aluminum base. The nature of the sculpture (combined with the usual late ’60s indulgence in print design) made it difficult to photograph:
What you don’t see is the motion, reflection, and sparkle from the tiny wires (no engineering specifications, OK?). The slightest air movement sets the sculpture into motion; and any shadows or lights crossing it set off a shower of contrasting lights.
However, they did include a photo of Conrad working on it:
Don Conrad with the kinetic wire sculpture he created for the Car Life 1969 Engineering Excellence Award / Scott Malcolm
Car Life publishers John R. Bond and Elaine Bond presented this award to Pontiac general manager John DeLorean about a week before Christmas 1968. It was more or less DeLorean’s last hurrah: Around the time this issue was on newsstands, he departed Pontiac to become general manager of Chevrolet.
While the 1969 GP did merit a certain amount of editorial enthusiasm, describing as “the least compromised car in America” seems a little silly if you understand (as the CL editors certainly did) that the Grand Prix was essentially a stretched “A-Special” version of the familiar Pontiac A-body intermediate platform, and had been developed in unusual haste. Indeed, the engineering rundown elsewhere in this issue acknowledged, “Lack of development time required the Grand Prix designers to utilize components from existing Pontiacs … a new blend of existing parts.” So, while the new Grand Prix was a well-considered compromise in many respects, it was most definitely a compromise.
The 1969 Pontiac Grand Prix rode a 118-inch wheelbase, 6 inches longer than the two-door Tempest/Le Mans/GTO — the extra length is between the cowl and the front suspension / Bring a Trailer
The late Pontiac ad man Jim Wangers said John DeLorean’s goal with this car was “to capture the spirit and essence of the old Duesenbergs of the 1930s. Great cars, very high-performance road machines with all the trappings of the luxury marques of the day … He even insisted Pontiac use the old Duesenberg model designations, J and SJ.”
In the Duesenberg line of the late 1920s and early 1930s, the “S” in Model SJ stood for “supercharger”; this 1935 Model SJ was once owned by Duesenberg president Lucius B. Manning, and now sports a recreation of its original Gordon Buehrig-designed dual cowl phaeton body / Darin Schnabel — RM Sotheby’s
That was all very romantic, but the Duesenberg was a toweringly expensive luxury car of a kind Detroit hadn’t even tried to build in years. I think Car Life‘s assessment of the concept was probably closer to the mark:
The crew at Pontiac must have been thinking: “What are we going to sell to the young guy who bought the GTO in ‘64? He’s older now, making more money, a little settled down now that he’s married, and on his way in a good career. Things are good, and he’s ready to be spoiled. But he doesn’t want to sacrifice the thrill of driving. What is being built that combines GTO-style performance with luxury?”
Enter the grandest of the Grands Prix, the luxury enthusiast’s car.
As DeLorean had ordered, the base 1969 Grand Prix was known as the Model J. This came with the 350 hp 400 cu. in. (6,554 cc) four-barrel V-8 from the GTO, a heavy-duty all-synchro three-speed manual transmission, and moderately plush trim with fake wood trim on the dash and doors. A low-compression two-barrel 400 (RPO L65) with 265 hp was a no-cost option, available only with automatic, while the 370 hp 428 cu. in. (6,991 cc) L79 was optional for $57.93.
1969 Pontiac Grand Prix Model SJ / Bring a Trailer
The Model SJ was actually a $244.34 option package, RPO Y97. As Car Life explained:
The basic SJ package includes a 370-bhp/428-cid engine, power disc brakes [in front only], performance rear axle ratio, automatic leveling rear airbag/ shocks (they stiffen the suspension as well as keep the chassis level when loaded). But wait. Also on the option list—the business end—is a 390-bhp H.O. engine, a handling package, a 3.55:1 axle ratio, and four-speed and Turbo Hydra-Matic transmissions. In other words, all sorts of things not found in the option lists for other luxury cars. Ours was loaded—all the good factory stuff including the Turbo Hydra-Matic. We had hoped to disguise an enthusiast’s toy in a luxury package.
With the SJ Group, as the package was called on the order form, the 428 H.O. engine was an additional $119.01. (You could also order it on the Model J, for $176.94.) Turbo Hydra-Matic or four-speed manual (with close- or wide-ratio gears) was an extra $227.04. The Ride & Handling package was $9.48, while the heavy-duty Safe-T-Track limited-slip differential was $63.19.
It’s not entirely clear if you could actually order the 3.55 axle with air conditioning — the AMA specs say that ratio wasn’t available with air on manual-shift cars, and indicate that the 428 H.O. got a 3.23 axle with air. Given Pontiac’s track record, it’s not out of the question that the Car Life test car had a combination of options not normally available in the wild.
428 H.O. engine claimed a gross output of 390 hp and 465 lb-ft of torque, although manual- and automatic-shift cars had different camshafts / Bring a Trailer
Reading the AMA specs reveals that while Pontiac quoted the same gross outputs for most of its 1969 engines regardless of transmission, automatic cars actually had different camshafts. The difference in cam profile was most pronounced on the 428 H.O.: The camshaft in automatic cars had less duration, less overlap, and fractionally less lift than with manual shift, so cars with Turbo Hydra-Matic likely made less power than ones with manual transmissions. Pontiac’s official output ratings in this era had to be taken with a grain of salt.
The caption under the photos at the top of the page reads, “SURPRISING CORNERING flatness and predictability made GP a sleeper in the handling department, yet ride was pleasant.”
If you’re wondering, this color is called Limelight Green / Bring a Trailer
Car Life said they had picked up their Model SJ test car during a rainstorm:
It was still raining as we arrived at our deserted stretch of winding test road . . . but we started exploring its road manners in curves and on ridges anyway. The Grand Prix devoured the slick turns, and the suspension responded brilliantly with both tremendous feel and feedback from the roadway.
It was not until the following day when it became necessary to wring the car out around brutal curves all over again for the photographer that we took note also of our own nonchalance in driving the car so vigorously. We are used to doing this sort of thing with Supercars and Ponycars. We expect the better ones to handle with just as much predictability and finesse. At a break in the shooting session, though, we climbed out of the car, looked back at it, and did a double-take. For two days we’d driven the car as though it were an enthusiast’s workhorse. not one of the most luxurious cars produced in America. But luxury certainly was parked at the side of the road. It was as though cars had been switched when our back was turned.
They found this especially impressive given the GP’s nearly 4,200 lb curb weight. (I’m not sure if they actually weighed their test cars at this point, but their quoted 4,180 lb curb weight seems a bit low for a fully loaded Model SJ — based on the AMA specs, I would estimate something closer to 4,250 lb. However, it was still almost 400 lb lighter than the Thunderbird CL tested in the same issue.)
Car Life had also tried the milder Grand Prix Model J, both a press fleet car and another car borrowed from a Costa Mesa dealership, but while they found its ride and handling quite decent, their Model SJ was a cut above:
Our test car had the extra help it takes, in the form of stiffer springs, sway bar and improved shock valving. Granted, that sounds as though we were trying to take the GP right out of the luxury class and turn it into a Supercar. Instead, we believe the options enhanced the overall stability and ride. Instead of the heavy, pitchy, mushy feel one associates with the personal/luxury cars, the Grand Prix SJ felt well attached to its suspended members, and they to the road. All without discernible ride harshness. Instead of detachment, we got intimacy. And while its soft ride suggested it shouldn’t corner fast, it simply did.
The car’s cornering attitude is fantastically flat, not unlike that of a genuine race car (we race a lot). That, combined with its near-neutral handling and responsive steering, ranked it among the most predictable American cars we’ve tested … Besides the stiffer springs all around, the Super-lift rear shocks added a bit more rear roll stiffness and took out most of the understeer.
Interestingly, the Grand Prix still didn’t use a rear anti-roll bar, although it would have been easy enough to add one from the Oldsmobile 4-4-2, whose rear suspension was very similar.
In terms of handling, the Grand Prix had one useful advantage over the GTO and 4-4-2: Shifting the front wheels forward allowed the engine to sit farther back, making the GP a bit less nose-heavy than its A-body cousins. Car Life estimated its weight distribution with only the driver at 56/44, compared to 58/42 for a Ram Air GTO.
With its stretched wheelbase, the 1969 Grand Prix was actually over 3 inches longer than a 1969 Thunderbird, although the T-Bird looks longer / Bring a Trailer
Adding to the GP’s handling ability was its variable-ratio power steering, which was quick (2.9 turns lock to lock) and actually provided a modicum of feedback. Power steering was still a $115.85 option on the 1969 Grand Prix, although 99.7 percent of buyers ordered it. Car Life was very keen on it:
GM’s variable-ratio power steering has gotten unanimous praise this year from CAR LIFE testers. It has even converted one staffer who has always thought power steering was part of the Communist conspiracy. Now he admits it is a fine combination of responsiveness, ease and road feel. And though it puzzled us at first, the small steering wheel blends well with the overall character of the car. It lends itself well to two-arms-straight driving that seems ideal for the steering response and handling.
Even with the 428 H.O. engine, the Grand Prix was a little too heavy to deliver really startling straight-line performance, but Car Life remarked that it “could very likely have embarrassed some so-called Supercars. With the 390 hp engine, TH400, and 3.55 axle, the spec panel reported:
- 0 to 30 mph: 2.9 sec.
- 0 to 60 mph: 6.7 sec.
- 0 to 100 mph: 16.0 sec.
- Standing ¼-mile: 14.1 sec. at 95.3 mph
- Passing, 30 to 70 mph: 5.4 sec.
They listed a top speed of 129 mph, but that was pretty clearly a calculated figure, which presumed that the engine could pull to redline in top gear; I think around 120 mph would probably be more plausible.
Elsewhere in this same issue, Car Life had asserted that GM’s new single-piston vented front discs would be “a Grand Prix delete option, that is, all Grand Prix are built with them unless the buyer orders front drums.” However, the brochure describes power front discs as an extra-cost option, and it appears that they were only technically standard with the SJ Group. (Curiously, disc brakes aren’t mentioned at all in the GP section of the 1969 Pontiac Accessorizer, although Car and Driver‘s Grand Prix road test reported a list price of $71.62 for front discs on a Model J). In any event, 99.9 percent of 1969 GPs were built with front discs, so it worked out about the same in the end.
Rally II styled wheels were $63.19 extra on a 1969 Grand Prix, while G70-14 tires (redline or whitewall) added $97.95 / Bring a Trailer
Car Life found the Turbo Hydra-Matic well-matched to the 428 H.O. engine — so well that they didn’t see the point of the manual transmissions, remarking that “it seems out of character to have to shift a car of this caliber manually.” Buyers apparently felt similarly: Only 713 ordered a four-speed gearbox, and just 301 took the three-speed manual transmission.
“Simulated Carpathian Elm Burl Grain” dashboard trim was standard, but this car’s Custom Interior, with leather upholstery, added $199.05 / Bring a Trailer
Elsewhere in the issue, the Car Life editors praised the Grand Prix for having the “most rational instrument panel to come along in recent memory,” with the cockpit-themed wraparound design of which GM stylists had recently become enamored. In the main text, they conceded:
It could cause a few family fights; but the usually shared controls are still on the passenger’s side—radio, temperature, lighter (compare it with some of the thoughtless positioning in a similar arrangement on Ford’s LTD).
While the HVAC and radio controls were on the right side of the steering column, adjusting the temperature or changing the radio station from the passenger seat meant reaching behind the steering wheel, and would probably have to be done by feel. Some contemporary rivals were worse, but I wouldn’t rate this arrangement too highly for convenience, and as on other GM cars of this era, the wraparound dash so blocky it looks more like a Brutalist building than a cockpit.
1969 Pontiac Grand Prix Model SJ / Bring a Trailer
Car Life noted that their test car didn’t have a tachometer, which it could have used. This was one of a number of disagreeably cynical aspects of Pontiac’s merchandising in 1968–1969: Although the SJ Group included the Rally Gauge Cluster optional on the Model J, it didn’t include a tachometer, and if you wanted one, you had to either buy the whole gauge package again for an extra $84.26, or else pay the dealer $75.00 to install one of Pontiac’s gimmicky hood-mounted tachometers.
Pontiac charged an outrageous $142.18 for the GP’s optional Cordova vinyl top, which listed for only $100.05 on a GTO and $115.85 on a Catalina, Executive, or Bonneville / Bring a Trailer
As you may have gathered, Car Life was very impressed by the GP Model SJ, concluding:
Unlike the run-of-the-mill luxury/personal cars which are styled to look like they can do things they can’t, the Grand Prix does things that look impossible. In other words, it’s a duesie!
For all the fanfare, I think that describing the 1969 Grand Prix as a great engineering achievement was a stretch. As a merchandising concept, however, it was brilliant: It took 360 lb and many dollars out of the GP, while wrapping it in new styling handsome enough that no one balked that Pontiac had actually raised the price by almost 5 percent.
1969 Pontiac Grand Prix Model SJ / Bring a Trailer
Moreover, the 1969 Grand Prix’s styling hit the sweet spot between modern-sporty and neo-classical luxury. Comparing it to the contemporary Thunderbird Landau, I can’t help thinking that the Pontiac studio had found the answer for which the designers of the muddled 1967–1969 Glamour Bird had been struggling. (The Grand Prix outsold the Thunderbird by more than 2 to 1 in 1969.)
1969 Ford Thunderbird Landau / Mecum Auctions
I also can’t help thinking that the buff books would have been less ecstatic about the Grand Prix if corporate policy hadn’t prevented Pontiac from just offering the 428 engine in the GTO. If the 428 H.O. had been a regular production option on the 1968 or 1969 GTO or Firebird, the enthusiast press would probably just have shrugged their shoulders at the Grand Prix, making some coy comments about its styling while reminding loyal readers that there was better performance to be had by ordering the same powertrain in a lighter car.
Pontiac built 112,486 GPs in 1969, making a handsome profit on each one / Bring a Trailer
Whatever the car magazines thought, it doesn’t appear that most buyers saw the Grand Prix as their ticket to a bigger-engine A-body Supercar. Back in 1989, Fred H. Simmonds calculated powertrain production totals for the 1969 Grand Prix and found that only 1,105 cars had the 428 H.O. engine, and only 11,083 had the SJ Group. Four out of five GP buyers were content with the base 400 engine (although unfortunately Simmonds’ tally doesn’t distinguish the standard four-barrel engine from the rare two-barrel L65 low-compression engine, a no-cost option).
Fred H. Simmonds’ original handwritten powertrain tally for the 1969 Grand Prix, calculated based on factory records, from June 9, 1989
More important from Pontiac’s standpoint was that the Grand Prix was a popular car that could be optioned up to more than $6,000. (The Car Life test car listed for $6,095, the green car in the color photos for $6,042.36 with destination.) DeLorean said later that Pontiac made a profit of up to $1,500 a unit on these cars, a very handsome return on a modest investment. As with so many of the performance cars of the 1960s, the 1969 Grand Prix was most muscular where it really counted: on the bottom line.
Related Reading
Curbside Classic: 1969 Pontiac Grand Prix – Who’s The Fairest Pontiac Of Them All? (by Paul N)
Vintage R&T Review: 1969 Pontiac Grand Prix – The American Espada (by Paul N)
Vintage Comparison Test: 1969 Buick Riviera, Ford Thunderbird, Mercury Marauder X-100, Oldsmobile Toronado, Pontiac Grand Prix – The Personal Luxury Wars Heat Up (by GN)
Curbside Classic: 1969 Pontiac Grand Prix – What The Blue (And Pink) Blazes?! (by Tom Klockau)
Vintage Review: 1967 Pontiac Grand Prix – Quiet, Large, Sport-ish Luxury; Awaiting Reinvention (by Rich Baron)
Curbside Classic – 1963 Pontiac Grand Prix: Another Time, Another Place (by Aaron65)
I have to confess that I pretty much ignored these when they were new and have continued to do so. I lumped them in with the Monte Carlo and the Cutlass Supreme as a sort of half-step-up A body with more formal styling. This road test helps me put these in the context of their (and my) time.
I can see that this gave you all the size and power of the Thunderbird (more, even) and in basic trim undercut the Bird by $1000. This was a far more attractive car than the 69 Thunderbird (IMHO) and I love those unique door handles!
I can attest to GMs great variable ratio power steering. It (and a presumably upgraded suspension) made my mother’s 74 Luxury Lemans a far better handling car than you might assume from outward appearances.
Nice writeup of this car’s handling and steering!
Variable assist steering should be required by LAW. I detest steering that requires one to only blow on the steering wheel to change lanes at 60mph.
“brakes were a disappointment”?….
GM.
Not so much “variable assist” as “variable RATIO”, which changes the assist indirectly. Small steering corrections near straight-ahead have a “faster”, lower numerical ratio, big turning movements like parallel-parking have a slow, easy ratio.
Genuine variable assist via changing the power steering pressure was available on some GM GMT400-series pickups and Suburbans in the ’97 time-frame, and is widely hated. It’s called “EVO” for Electronically-Variable Orifice, as the orifice closes the pressure at the steering gear goes down. When the system fails, the steering is typically over-boosted at higher speed. GM–and later the aftermarket–sold kits to disable the system.
That’s the way I thought variable ratio steering worked, but many others now say the opposite–the further off center you turn, the more the wheels turn.
My DTS has Magna-steer to change the assist level. Sounds impressive.
What Shurkey says would result in overly twitchy steering on center… actually the ratio decreases as wheels are turned further, giving quicker action when turning… it’s done with the shapes of the steering gears…
I test drove a car once with overly boosted steering, it felt like the steering wheel wasn’t connected to anything, but it was, and the car did steer. The salesman said he’d have it fixed.
That would be more useful, but then how does the system reduce effort when you’re further off-center?
This was the car I wanted more than any other. I was only 12 when they were new and by the time I graduated high school I really had it bad! The cars were already 5 years old and here in Wisconsin they were getting tacky. It’s my one vehicle regret. I can still dream though!
My father & I had a nocturnal blue SJ with a black vinyl roof. It had no air conditioning, roll up windows, 3.55 gears, & a special, ordered interior: air craft mesh nylon seats: probably one of a kind. An expert on the GP who lives in Calif. said he never saw this interior. After purchase, I added a hood tach. I believe the engine was the 370 HP version, but the motor had a flex fan which was standard on the 390 HP motor.
In the 1/4 mile it turned in the low 15s due to poor traction. You could sit at the starting line, & floor it: the car would only spin the rear wheels, & not move forward. The speedometer would show 95mph with the car spinning at the line. My SJ would be at 95-97 mph at the end of the 1/4 mile: same as the 390 HP version. On an interstate once I let it roll, & the car pegged the speedometer: I was over 140 mph. I would like to try to locate this car: any suggestions? This SJ was purchased at Palmer Pontiac in 1969, & traded at Cochran Pontiac in 1975: a mistake. Thanks!
Contrary to what Aaron claims above, there’s no doubt in my mind that 428 engine would rev to lifter pump up in top gear no matter what rear end ratio it had…
They mention 5800 RPMs and that is prolly when lifter pump up happened…
In those days they tested with a stop watch, I’d suspect on a dragstrip this car would prolly get about 14.6 sec, not 14.1…
They did NOT test with stopwatches: Car Life used a fifth wheel attached to the rear bumper, along with an electric tachometer, an accelerometer and other instruments. Because of this equipment, their acceleration tests (like Motor Trend‘s) were run two up, since there needed to be someone to operate the test equipment, although occasionally they would also do a driver-only run through the timing lights, which would be faster, not slower.
As for its top speed, you’re ignoring the very large question of aerodynamics: The SJ H.O. had lots of power, but it was also pushing a big wall of air, and it wasn’t exactly low-drag. The Car Life figure, as I said, is very clearly calculated rather than observed, and thus not particularly revealing. Motor Trend recorded an apparently actual speed of 118 mph with a non-H.O. SJ with a 3.23 axle; this H.O. was obviously more powerful, but also shorter-geared. I guess it’s possible that it could manage another 11 mph, but I’m skeptical, and CL did not demonstrate an actual top speed, which is the real point.
Maybe without the “power front disc brakes” it still had discs.
Some people spec’d stick shifts without power brakes to make both pedals’ effort more similar.
This is the size format all the PLCs should have had in the first place (Thunderbird, Riviera, Toronado, etc.). Their additional size and weight did them no favors. This GP showed the way forward, and I credit JZD for making it happen.
Wow you could spec poor brakes as an option, no thanks the way that car will go with your clog in the carpet the best brakes available are a must have for me, I like it, but they werent available here.
If someone could offer a bit of clarification, please… I’ve seen the ’69-’72 GP and the ’70-’72 Monte described as having an A-Special body as well as having a G-body
G-body makes sense, as it was the next body introduced after the E- and F-bodies of 1967. But I never heard of these cars being described as G-bodies until relatively recently, and in the era, I remember them being called A-Special. Which is correct, please?
I’ve only seen these called A-Special bodies; likewise these two from ’73-77. For 1978, the A-Specials now used the standard A body wheelbase, but were distinguished by vertical rooflines and distinct exterior styling, and now also included the Olds Cutlass Supreme and Buick Regal. The confusion involves this generation, because they were A bodies from 78-81, but the A designation was moved to the new FWD A bodies (Ciera, etc.) in 1982 and the old RWD A bodies were re-designated G-bodies that year. This was because the old RWD bodies were initially intended to be replaced by the new FWD ones (by some accounts), but strong sales resulted in some of the RWD models being sold through 1988. I usually refer to this generation of ’78-88 RWD cars as the “A/G bodies” to avoid confusion.
“A-Special” is also what Pontiac product planning engineer Ben Harrison called it in the memo where he first proposed the idea.
Such a contradictory era in car design. Car stylists had tremendous free reign, and large platform sizes, to develop some of the most uninhibited and expressively-styled cars in modern times.
While at the same time, some of the least appealing specific fashion and design trend accessorizing elements, appeared on cars. Muted earth tone paints, vinyl roofs, cheap-looking plasticky dashboards and interiors, cheap-looking seating, and seating coverings. Cheap-looking hub caps, including some of the worst wheel covers ever, meant to look like alloy wheels. Gimmicky tape and stripe packages started to appear, like ‘The Judge’. Uneven quality control, and fit and finish. Generally good-looking cars, in their sheetmetal. But so many accessorizing details and trends, often seemed so poorly conceived, and rendered.
Agreed, there’s not a 70s PLC, even the most ponderous and ostentatious that wouldn’t have benefitted from trim deletion steel roofs and actual alloy wheels, I think the contradictions hit their pinnacle in 73-74 when the Collonades came out, the Matador coupe came out and Dodge was slathering on the most godawful vinyl roof/opera window treatment they could imagine for the SE on what was otherwise sleekest ever Charger body ever produced. Things weren’t quite that extreme yet in 69, but yes, steel roof for me and Rally II wheels would be all if equip cosmetically on this GP.
Worst is when all the American automakers downsized the PLCs between 78-80 they made the bodies more efficient and rational(boring and boxy) but carried over all that gingerbread,
I should point out for the record that all of the Grand Prix examples depicted (both in the original text and in the color photos) have Rally II styled steel wheels, not wheel covers or hubcaps. By modern standards, these are ridiculously small, particularly given the weight of these cars, but the factory styled steel wheels were generally stronger and more trustworthy than contemporary light alloy wheels.
Also, as I keep noticing when trying to find color photos of cars of this period that haven’t been restomodded beyond recognition, they can definitely look a lot worse with actual alloy wheels!
I’d never thought about the increased wheelbase ahead of the cowl making these less nose-heavy than the regular A-bodies. My wife has always wanted a 68-72 Chevelle but maybe she could be coaxed into one of these instead.
My mother fulfilled a dream by going to the Louvre in Paris around 1964. There she met and became life long friends with a woman who lived in NYC, not far from us. The first time Burma came to visit us she had a 300 Gull Wing Mercedes. Likely the only one ever to grace our neighborhood.
Fast forward to 69/70 and she is married. She and her very tall husband were both Parole Officers in NYC. They had one of these Gran Prix’s with the four speed. Brown/Bronzish.
I was around 10 or 12 and thought that was the coolest thing you could do to get a stick in full size car like this. I used to love to see mag wheels and Hurst Shifter in a four door Impala or Burt Reynold’s Ford in White Lightnin’.
Naturally I thought Burma & Hank were my Mom’s coolest friends. That woman had several careers, finally becoming a doctor and spending many years serving some poorer communities. Mom visited her into the early 2000’s and would come back with details. It’s like she squeezed five lifetimes into one.
Our next door neighbor’s son bought a Model J in Verdoro green/Rally II’s, and no vinyl top. Talk about attracting the attention of all the young neighborhood car geeks!! 🙂
Egads, that GP dashboard is an ergonomic nightmare! The wiper switch is a tiny plastic toggle button behind the left side of the wheel, with an even smaller button in the center to operate the washers. The headlight knob is to the right of the steering wheel, and is the same size and shape of the adjacent tuning knob for the radio.
The temperature gauge – crammed into a tiny quarter of the left nacelle, actually points UP for cold, and DOWN for hot. The exact opposite of a thermometer. Things are no better with the right nacelle, the clock reading both standard and military time – for those not sharp enough to do the math.
Such a hot mess….
Eric, that headlamp knob you are seeing is actually the ‘Lighter’. The ‘Lights’ are on the left side, under the A/C vent. Overall the design was fairly typical for the sixties before switches made their way up the steering column. There were many that were much worse. The beauty was it did not take long to learn your way around, and the different type of switches (such as the wiper switch you mentioned) could be operated by feel.
Like the Mustang phenomenon, you had to be there. My Aunt ordered a ’69 GP, a regular Model J with buckets and console and received it before they were generally available. It was gold with a black vinyl top with the Pontiac road wheels. Boy, did that car get attention everywhere she went. No wonder, it was another of GM’s hits of the time; The Eldo, Riviera, and the Monte Carlo were all great looking cars and the Pontiac and the Chevy could optioned to be quite good performing automobiles. Sad to think that the GP ended it’s days as a run of the mill four door.
14 year old me read the Car Life article and sometime there after I bought the MPC model kit of the car.
They were a well engineered and nicely styled automobile. While most were nice cruisers with vinyl top and the 400 V8, a guy living in my parents housekeeping room had a 428 V8 Grand Prix with 4-speed gearbox and no vinyl roof. What a rare combo that might have been.
These reviews of late 1960s cars with commentary by Aaron have been eye-opening. One example is that it’s common today for enthusiasts to lament the passing of the à la carte optioning that was possible back in the day. I now have an opposing view — It took a lot of work to build the car exactly the way you wanted it (with a willing salesperson to help you order it), and the automakers had their way in nickle and diming you to the point of absurdity.
On this Grand Prix for example, power steering and power front disc brakes should have been standard. If you wanted the gauge package with a tachometer, you had to pay twice — once for the package and separately for the tach. By 1969, the base transmission should have been the Turbo Hydramatic, with a delete option for the manual 4-speed (and no 3-speed manual at all). Etc, etc…
I should clarify the tachometer issue: On the standard Model J, you could order the Rally Gauge Cluster either with a tachometer ($84.26) or without ($31.60). The SJ Group option included the version without the tach as part of its $244.34 price. You could order the gauge cluster with in-dash tach on the SJ, but you didn’t receive any credit for the parts of the package you already got with the SJ Group, so you were effectively paying about $30 more for the tachometer on an SJ than you would on a Model J.
Point/counterpoint. While I too will concede the flaws of ala carte, the other article of today being the pricey 6000STE is a perfect example of feature bloat on car that only really needed a handling package and very minor cosmetic dress up. Not a steering wheel with 1,000 buttons a digital dash, power seats and all sorts of other junk.
The real sin of automakers in the 60s was treating technological advances in safety as premium priced luxury components rather than what they were advances. Between the choice of ala carte (pay for what you actually want) and package(pay for more than you need) I prefer the old standard, and that’s why I’ll never buy a brand new current day car.
Surely there’s a lot of middle ground there, though. Look at the GP: Making the vinyl top and leather-vinyl interior optional made sense, and obviously not everyone wanted the 428 or H.O. engines or could pony up the cost of air conditioning. But I don’t see anything very reasonable about even theoretically offering a base Grand Prix with manual steering, unassisted drum brakes, and a three-speed stick, at which level the GP was vastly less pleasant and less safe to drive, just to let Pontiac pad the mark-up and maintain the fiction that these cars were much cheaper than they actually were in practice. That was nickel-and-diming customers to death, and I think quite cynical.
I completely agree, steering and brakes are technology advancements that especially in a car of this class should have been standard items. But the 6000STE approach of loaded with maybe 1-2 options left on the table(which most modern cars actually follow) is equally cynical exploitation of the consumer and overall market. Where the GP had useful options that should have been standard the STE had features that should have been standard in the regular 6000 but to get it you got half a dozen useless options that today seem gimmicky/cheesy. Imagine if the only way to get the 69 GP was with all of those features standard including the vinyl top/leather et al with no delete option or credit. We’ve just shifted from one extreme to another, and oddly enough Pontiac in today, the lower end of mid priced brands, as featured showed to be the worst example of both ends of the spectrum.
That’s true, although I think both are just how retail businesses work: It’s all about the upsell, because that’s how salespeople and dealerships make money.
The STE steering wheel buttons were the coolest thing–I had to have them on my ’88 Bonneville SE.
What I discovered looking at used Cadillac STS V8s: I wanted cooled seats, but all with them also came with sunroofs, which means I’d have to put the seat on the floor to sit. Maybe someone ordered sunroof delete, but I can’t find one. That wasn’t true of the V6, but I didn’t like its lack of low end grunt. It’s more annoying to be forced to get something you really don’t want to get something you do.
I owned a 1970 model J, Bronze with no vinyl top or A/C. It was the best car I ever owned. I had to sell it because I couldn’t afford the fuel for N 80 mile daily commute. I still regret doing that.