1974 AMC Matador X Is a Bold Move

From the November 1973 issue of Car and Driver.

There’s an undeniable smugness stamped into the fenders of AMC’s new Matador X. And each arrogant crease is integral to an overall air of confidence. Not the brazen visual shock of the 1971–72 Buick Rivieras, but the clean-line integrity of a Charles Eames design. And that self-assuredness, as much as anything else, endows the car with an unmistakable visceral appeal, like a Na­math smile or a Kennedy handshake. You can consider that newly acquired self-assured look a tangible warn­ing to Detroit and the world that AMC is no longer bound by the threat of financial oblivion. On the con­trary, things are going better than anyone would have dared predict three years ago for the smallest domestic manufacturer. The primary medication for AMC’s recov­ery has been its Gremlin-Hornet-Sportabout small car family. Luck, or clever planning, (it makes little differ­ence) allowed each of these cars to reach the market in close harmony with changing trends—but, equally im­portant, each car was styled in a manner which clearly set it apart from the Big Three’s look-alike entrants.

As a result, AMC outdid the competition during 1973. Not by outselling it on a unit-for-unit basis but by selling more than its “established” share of the market. Chrys­ler’s grip on third place isn’t exactly threatened, but now AMC bookkeepers have 4.2 per cent of the domestic market to fret over, compared to less than 3.3 per cent a year earlier. And if you think those one-tenth percent­age points are a trivial concern, you don’t understand American Motors . . . or the immensity of the domestic automobile market. Even paper-thin 10,000-unit slices of America’s largest industry are a meaty addition when you layer them into AMC’s low-calorie sandwich.

Sales are on the upswing, profits have exceeded the fondest dreams (second quarter earnings in 1973 were nearly seven times those in the same period of 1972), so everything is milk and honey in Kenosha. But you can rest assured there would be no Matador X if the money men weren’t romanced into such a complacent mood by the steep upward climb of sales curves. The holders of the purse strings supplied two key board­room decisions that were both germane to the Matador and a right turn in AMC’s staunchly conservative path.

First of all came a green light to Dick Teague and his styling department, allowing it to shape the sheet metal with a flamboyance never before seen behind an Amer­ican Motors emblem. And, secondly, a marketing tactic that will deliver the new Matador in but one body style—a fixed-pillar coupe. There is no plan to backstop its earning potential by sharing fenders with a bread­-and-butter four-door version.

To the man in the street, that pair of bold decisions means that American Motors has gone through the in­ternal machinations necessary to build a car people will buy even if their brother-in-law isn’t an AMC dealer. The Matador is first of all an Intermediate at a time when over 20 per cent of the buyers are choosing Intermedi­ates, and the future certainly indicates an even greater potential. Moreover, distinctive styling automatically places it in the realm of specialty cars at a time when showroom traffic is approaching the stampede level for Monte Carlos and Grand Ams. And in contrast to last year’s Matador—a car so invisible that even its ads asked the question “What’s a Matador?”—the new ver­sion is a true Intermediate, designed for the job from the ground up, rather than a short wheelbase version of the Ambassador line.

But no matter if the Matador is right or wrong for today, it could never pass unnoticed. The lines are clean and uncluttered in spite of Detroit’s headlong rush towards gimmickry in the form of stand-up hood ornaments, fender skirts, and figurine-studded opera windows. Simplicity is the central theme to the Mata­dor’s collection of broad, nearly flat contours, but at every corner there is an eye catcher. At the front, deep­ly tunneled headlamps light the way, the only interruption to the knife edge created by a long, sloping hood. The slippery look continues at the sides where the sheet metal folds sharply in at the top before it streams rearward down a fastback roofline. In the rear, side con­tours bend around the corner to create a striking rolled­-pan look dominated by four huge taillamp ovals. But the finishing touch to the package is AMC’s prime con­tribution to innovation: free-standing bumpers. At both ends of the car a simple chrome bar, almost a nerf bar, stands guarding the tender sheet metal at a four-inch separation distance. The approach creates a contrast that is functionally perfect: The soft contours of continu­ous sheetmetal behind a brusque protective beam. In total it adds up to an honest approach toward styling not often seen from Detroit.

While the Matador’s looks will undoubtedly sell the car, how it goes about the basic tasks of transportation will determine its long term success. It’s no secret that poise on the road is a function of the basic mechanical elements under the skin—or more precisely, how well those elements work together to move passengers. In pursuit of mechanical harmony, American Motors has wisely purchased off-the-shelf items already refined be­yond the means of its own relatively modest budget. As you launch the Matador X away from traffic with a smooth part-throttle downshift, a Chrysler-built TorqueFlite transmission executes your bidding. The four-barrel carburetor that answers your demands without a sag or hesitation is a Motorcraft by Ford. Turn onto an en­trance ramp and you feel the precise response of varia­ble-ratio power steering, the pump and gear courtesy of GM’s Saginaw division. So the Matador X feels compe­tent and at the same time familiar—under its shapely skin lie proven components.

But no matter how good the pieces are to start with, their ultimate success depends on the final development of the system. That, unfortunately, is where the resources of American Motors are stretched so thin that rough edges begin to crop up. Interior noise is an example. The Matador body is quite rigid and sealed tightly but extraneous noises still manage to find their way in, the most notable being wind disturbance. There is no problem with leakage past the seals, but rather the constant ruffling of turbulent air as it fights its way around the windshield pillar. It’s the sort of distraction you aren’t bothered with in Torinos or Chevelles, be­cause such noise has been painstakingly eliminated.

Those volume leaders by Ford and Chevrolet are also superior to the Matador in terms of ride quality. Again, noise is the most quickly noticeable weak point. Rather than any sense of gross harshness, you “feel” bumps because you hear them so distinctly. The Mata­dor is handicapped in this respect by its unit construc­tion chassis, while GM and Ford have chosen full frames to improve the ride of their Intermediates. How­ever, some ride improvement may lie within the options sheet. Steel-belted radial tires are available in place of our test car’s bias-belted rubber.

Where the Matador does evidence a high degree of refinement is in braking. Vented discs are now standard in front—although the power booster remains an extra-­cost (but essential) option. Drum brakes do the job in the rear, and when you’re serious about stopping, the system will freeze the car in its tracks like a strobe light. From 70 mph, we made repeated stops approach­ing 0.9 g with no demand for Jackie Stewart reflexes to maintain control. The simple-to-explain but elusive-to­-produce engineering principle involved is near ideal front-to-rear proportioning: tires at both ends of the car approach lock-up at the same time.

Unfortunately, the work is not so equitably distributed when it comes to handling. Our air conditioning­-equipped Matador test car had 58.4 percent of its two­-ton mass leaning on the front wheels, so there was a strong natural tendency toward understeer. However, the car is agile enough that the plowing attitude can be diminished with a rapid twitch of the steering wheel as you scrub your way toward the apex of a turn. Bob Bon­durant would scorn, but the technique brings the tail out and you can at least corner without grinding the raised white letters off the front tires. Part of the reason the Matador X is so stable in such an attitude is because there is not enough power on tap to overload the rear tires in the middle of the turn. That fact stands no mat­ter what version of the Matador you select. (Our test car was fitted with American Motors’ huskiest powerplant, the 401-cubic-inch, four-barrel V-8.) And acceleration tests fur­ther prove that Kenosha is not exempt from the horse­power crisis. In the quarter-mile, the Matador X could do no better than 16.3 seconds at 88.0 mph, which makes it less than average for an Intermediate coupe with a big en­gine. That laxity on the drag strip was no surprise, but there will be those caught unaware as they slip within the confines of the stylish Matador. You see, American Motors has delivered the world its first 2+2 Intermediate. Rear seat passengers must be sandwiched between Dick Teague’s fastback roof­line and a seat bottom elevated high enough to clear the chassis depart­ment’s bulky four-trailing-link rear sus­pension. The result is 0.7 inch less rear headroom than a Hornet Hatchback.

At least there’s no problem getting in. The Matador’s doors are a good deal shorter and lighter than the long vault­like closures chosen by GM for its fixed­-pillar coupes. But they still open up the car to a degree that allows good front and rear ease of entry. The reason the door opening is so effective, given its relatively short dimensions, is because the windshield stands erect and doesn’t sweep back to interfere seriously with front seat entry. That allows the front seat to be well forward giving wide ac­cess to the rear compartment. The only obstruction in the path of entering rear seat passengers is a dangling lap/shoulder belt on each side.

Except for the rear seat’s shortage of headroom, the Matador’s interior is a pleasant place to be. Legroom is in good supply front and rear, and the broad ex­panses of glass let you see the world with a clear view. The threat of claustro­phobia is further diminished by AMC’s version of the GM fixed-pillar design. The Matador’s large triangular rear quar­ter windows roll down, while they must remain forever closed in General Mo­tors’ Intermediate coupes.

Reclining seats are an option for the Matador, although their goodness is compromised by two shortcomings. First of all, they are based on a split bench which affords no consideration to lateral support. Secondly, the seat back pivots at a point about half-way up your back. With that, Yoga lessons including S-­bends of the spine are a prerequisite to comfort in the Matador.

Our test car was fitted with thin-shell bucket seats. They are wide and com­fortable, however they are little better than the split bench in terms of restraint in cornering. By far the most compelling reason to order the bucket seats is the upholstery material: a knitted vinyl that feels and breathes like a coarsely-wo­ven cloth, but retains plastic’s strong resistance to Baskin-Robbins fallout.

One other alternative will appear after the Matador assembly lines get rolling at full speed. Fashion designer, and some­time social critic, Oleg Cassini will add his name next to a list that has included Cardin, Gucci, and the Levi Strauss Company by designing his own version of the Matador’s interior.

You won’t be able to miss it if you trav­el in high fashion circles. Nor will you pass by the Matador’s shapely exterior without serious consideration. While it lacks the refinement of a Chevelle or a Torino from several standpoints, it is un­questionably this year’s style leader. And holding the keys to a car you can relish the sight of is no minor distinction in the current look-alike sweepstakes Detroit has entered.

Source: Reviews - aranddriver.com