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Since it’s design-focused, I advise not restricting bodies in any way, provided the end result look like a 60s coupe.
I’m open to it be a case by case rather than full freedom. If you wish to use a specific body out of the year range, DM me to clear it out. Reason being body plays a big part into the design of an era.
Also added a change-log for rule clarifications.
1962 AMS Antares V8 5.0
This is best described as combining the proportions of an XKE with the headlights and grille of an Elan, powered by an engine reminiscent of that found in an early AC Cobra.
When the Antares received a redesign for 1962, it adopted a far sleeker shape than before, in keeping with contemporary design trends. To give it a more futuristic look, it had retractable headlights for the first time ever. Also, as the first generation to have a V8 engine as standard, it gained several major key design features: a hood scoop running down the middle, flanked by auxiliary cooling vents. Under its hood lay a 5.0L OHV V8, fed by a 4-barrel carburetor and tuned to deliver 250 horsepower, sent to the rear wheels via a 4-speed manual gearbox and clutched LSD - a sizable amount for the era, and in a car as small and light as this (1063kg), good enough for a 159mph top speed and a 0-60 time of 5.6 seconds.
As the flagship of the range, it had a full-on luxury interior and AM radio, with genuine high-quality wood and leather trim, which made it surprisingly livable for a car of this type, although at $24,000 AMU at launch, such craftsmanship didn’t come cheap. Built on a steel monocoque with a galvanized chassis, its dual-wishbone independent front and rear, combined with 4-wheel disc brakes, endowed it with the cornering and braking ability expected of its kind. Production continued until 1974 when a more angular redesign arrived - just in time for the oil crisis.
The most highly sought-after variant of this generation, the SS (for SuperSport), was produced from 1969 to 1971. Distinguished by its functional hood scoop (to feed its more highly tuned dual-carb 300-horsepower engine), wider radial tires, lowered and stiffened suspension, and quad (rather than dual) exhaust outlets, this was predictably even faster than the base model (by 14mph), and 0.2 seconds quicker to 60, but also rarer, since it added $1500 AMU to the price when specified.
In a first for the model line, the SS also had a 5-speed manual gearbox in place of the original 4-speed unit - after the SS package was dropped for 1972, this item would also be fitted to the base GT, along with radial tires. However, the Antares SS’ level of performance would not be matched until two decades and three generations later, by which time the original Antares V8 had developed a devoted following worldwide, not just as a road car, but as a production-based race car.
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1967 ARMOR HURRICANE S/C
Like others, Armor Motors’ answer to the Mustang came in 1967 in the form of the Hurricane. Utilizing the existing 107 inch wheelbase from the Armor Valencia, the Hurricane sported sleek new sheet metal, an aggressive front end with optional hideaway headlights, hood scoops, and a new 303 cid V8. The S/C (Super Competition) package included a 750cfm carburetor, blackout grille and tail panel, and a rear spoiler.
The 303 wasn’t the largest engine offered in the Hurricane, but it was the most prevalent. 0-60 times hovered around 6.3 seconds, which was a full second faster than a comparable Mustang GT. Priced below $13,500, Armor hoped their Hurricane would be able to cut into the ponycar market quickly.
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Very nice indeed!!
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Just for fun, I cooked up a successor to the Antares for the 1970s, based on a newer body set but using a later variant of the original engine. Here it is in Federalized spec, rubber bumpers and all:
Even with less power than the original (200 bhp, 50 fewer than what the original Antares had at launch - blame the milder cam, unleaded fuel, and catalytic converters for that), it’s still quite quick for its time (0-60 in 6.6 seconds).
It’s also 100kg heavier, which explains the reduction in performance, but it’s still as lavishly appointed on the inside as before.
It’s a pity, then, that this challenge doesn’t include additional rounds set in the 1970s and 1990s (the next two after the current one, which is set in the 1960s, will take place in the 1980s and 2000s), if only to give us a chance to fill gaps in our lore regarding our cars.
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Next round hasn’t been set in stone yet. Yours is a nice looking successor either way.
1965 Wells Sidewinder
Built to compete with the coupes of its day, blending performance and style into one.
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American Gasmean Styling, European Hetvesian Performance. The 1968 Maunderer GT
As for lore: the company that makes this car (that is unnamed because they are just that cool I haven’t come up with it yet), wanted to make something akin to a small Sport/GT/Muscle car, but didn’t have the capital or the under-hood engineering to do it alone. So using an older platform brought up to modern (for late 60s) standards, then shoehorning a de-stroked and de-bored V8 from a failed aeronautic endeavor and finally punching way too many speed holes into it to cool the damn thing.
…so, yeah…
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is anyone even going to read this? I guess I'll just put a spaceship here (_)(_)=====D~~
The 1968 ZY10 Zeydra F6U
By Planar
Planar in 1968 was in a bit of a state. Following their internal strife and subsequent rebranding and upheaval in 1965, they really needed a completely new car, not just the “new” SM31 Danazine. A solution was quickly found in the ZY10 Zeydra (then known as the Speedman project), which was originally destined for a 1967 launch as a P&A until the company’s troubles put the project on ice in 1965.
Loosely based on the SM30 Danazine’s chassis, the Zeydra was intended as a more upmarket challenger to Holden’s Monaro, and thus was slightly stretched and widened from its SM30 base, along with numerous other changes that led it to be considered its own distinct model. Just like its Danazine cousin, it was powered exclusively by Rotomax’s PLRFX-260, a 3.8 litre DOHC flat six, mated to a four speed manual.
While the car was indeed upmarket, Planar tried to make the U model have at least some mass-market appeal, but features such as the standard fog lights and rather opulent interior and paintjob for its class still meant that it was on the upper end of affordability, at around $25,000 AMU for the base model with no options.
Ignore the transmission tunnel poking through the floor, it keeps resetting to default every time I open the car and I didn't even notice it when I was taking the photo
The interior was the car’s strongest point, however, with features like standard leather seats, a factory fitted 8 Track stereo, and wooden accents even on the “base” model truly setting it apart from its competition. While the +2 seats in the rear wouldn’t be at all comfortable for adults for any period of time, they were more than enough for kids, and the standard seatbelts and advanced safety features made it not just a comfortable, but a safe and comfortable place to be.
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(Play John Barry’s ‘You Only Live Twice’ while you read this for maximum 60s)
Introducing to everyone the 1965 Hikaru Katana CHI-18-1 ‘Mizukami’
In early 1962, as Hikaru Heavy Industries was reaping the last vestiges of success of its first mass produced commuter car that was released almost four years earlier and receiving its first facelift, the lead designer of the main branch of Hikaru Heavy Industries, the son of the founder himself, was blessed alongside his wife with the birth of their first child. Upon seeing his child, he was in awe of miracle of life, but as he reminisced on that scene upon returning home a few days later, he realised that what he was feeling was the awe of life itself. As a man of his work, he knew that he could harness that amazement that he felt, and channel it into creating a car that could impress upon its occupants at least part of what he had felt on that day.
He knew though that this idea was not sufficient to convince his father to design such a car, so upon his next break as the year 1963 approached, he travelled with his family to the capital, where they saw many wonders that were far beyond anything that they could see in their sleepy northern town. Whilst the cultural and historical iconography was incredible to behold, other things stood out to the young designer, namely the cars that he saw in a foreign magazine. They had sleek, graceful lines, purposeful shaping and lavish furnishings. The magazine even came with some of the cars’ claimed statistics, and he was once again amazed. He knew that it could never match up to what he had felt early in 1962, but seeing how the manufacturers from around the world gained reputation and success through cars that symbolise the beauty of life itself, he was set in his dream to make a car like that to put Hikaru Heavy Industries on the map.
With the magazine in hand, he and his family returned to the north, and to his surprise, his father, the Taicho, accepted the idea with only a few corrections. His idea was certainly a bold one, his father told him, but it was seemingly too extravagant for a manufacturer as small as theirs. It would be wise to lay their sights lower for the time being. They would design a lightweight, nimble sports car with a relatively large engine that would make at least 75 PS. The car would not under any circumstance weigh over a tonne, and would be designed to be attractive, whilst simultaneously maximising the important traits that a driver would value in a car, large windows and the like.
Many long nights followed. The designers and engineers took to the new project with some trepidation, not seeing any wisdom in wasting money on a risky car by most metrics, but at least for most of them, they could use it as an opportunity to let loose all their wildest ambitions in their various fields. The interior designers decided to construct the entire dashboard out of a single large stained and polished sheet of extremely expensive Japanese red cedar (‘Jindai Sugi’), the engineers gave it fully independent suspension on all corners, along with four corner disc brakes and a five-speed manual, a first for the manufacturer, if not the national industry.
By early 1964, the work had concluded, and a prototype was ready to begin testing. It was fitted with Hikaru’s new 1800CC inline six, part of the incoming A block series, that was producing an estimated 85 PS according to the more conservative calculations, well above the 75 PS benchmark imposed by the Taicho. It was found after test drives were conducted that the car fared well in acceleration and reached a decent top speed, but not everything was exceptionally good. It was found that after a while, the engine began to sputter a bit and make some strange noises. This came to a head as soon as the test driver attempted an endurance test at test track near the capital. Upon unpacking the car from its crate and rolling it out, they attempted to start it, and from within the bowels of the engine, they heard an ear-splitting tearing of metal. The engine fell silent, and upon cranking it again, it seemed to start with far less trouble. They rolled it out, and spurting smoke, the test driver began the endurance test. Within less than a minute, as the driver attempted to break 200 KPH, the engine made a horrendous noise, like it was tearing itself apart, which was an accurate description.
After the cause of this problem was found, it was adjusted and considering that it had passed the rest of the tests with flying colours, it was decided that it would be entered into production before the middle of the year. The factories that had already finished work on setting up the production lines got to work producing parts, and the ones that had to accommodate the changes attempted to keep up. Before long, that car that had been such trouble earlier in the year was finally, or at least hopefully, going to make the company some money, for it was easily their most expensive project, blowing their previous commuter car out of the water by at least a factor of two.
How well the car would do was anyone’s guess, but they knew that they would much rather be known for cars like the one that they had just built, rather than the refresh of their 1958 commuter car that they had released to warm reception two years earlier. Not only was it a matter of pride, but also a matter of increasing their reputation overseas, a market that they’d have to delve into at some point if they’d want to stay relevant.
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This is setting the bar high…
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I see immense potential
Having absolutely no plan helps things flow, as the Taicho decreed
That set the bar so high im considering not even sending my car now
The 1969 333 C73 Rapide
By the late 1960s, the automotive world was at a turning point. With rising competition between European manufacturers, companies were racing to define the next generation of sports cars. For 333, the Dutch-Italian automaker known for its precise engineering and passionate design, this was an opportunity to prove itself as a leader in innovation and performance. The result was the C73 Rapide, a car that would not only disrupt the market but also set a new standard for what a sports coupe could be.
The Birth of a Visionary Sports Coupe
The C73 Rapide project began in 1967, as a collaborative effort between 333’s Dutch engineering headquarters in Amsterdam and its design studio in Turin, Italy. The goal was clear: create a car that was lightweight, blisteringly fast, and a joy to drive, all while embodying the company’s unique blend of Dutch precision and Italian flair.
The design brief demanded a car that could compete with the likes of Alfa Romeo, Lancia, and BMW. However, 333 didn’t want to simply compete—they wanted to create something revolutionary. The Rapide would need to outclass its rivals in both style and substance, becoming a halo car for the company and a showcase of its engineering prowess.
Revolutionary Performance for a New Era
The heart of the C73 Rapide was its 3.0-liter SOHC V6 engine, affectionately nicknamed the Discus. At a time when most sports cars relied on naturally aspirated engines, 333’s engineers took a bold step forward, fitting the engine with a supercharger. This decision pushed the V6 to produce an unprecedented 217.5 horsepower and 280.8 Nm of torque.
For the 1960s, these numbers were staggering. Few production cars of the era dared to break the 200-horsepower mark, let alone in a lightweight coupe that weighed just 984 kilograms. The result was a car capable of 0-100 km/h in just 6.16 seconds and a top speed of 219 km/h—figures more commonly associated with exotic racing cars than a street-legal two-door coupe.
This wasn’t just raw power—it was power delivered with finesse. The car’s featherweight monocoque chassis, known internally as the “CRE Mono,” provided exceptional rigidity while keeping weight down. Combined with double-wishbone suspension at both the front and rear, the C73 Rapide offered razor-sharp handling and a direct connection between driver and road. It wasn’t just fast in a straight line; it was a corner-carving machine, equally at home on twisty mountain roads or European racetracks.
Italian Beauty, Dutch Precision
The styling of the C73 Rapide was pure Italian artistry. Designed in Turin, the car featured classic sports coupe proportions: a long hood, short rear deck, and flowing lines that exuded speed even while standing still. Details like the quad headlights, sculpted side panels, and subtly flared wheel arches gave the Rapide an aggressive yet refined presence.
But beneath the beauty lay the precision of Dutch engineering. Every component was meticulously crafted for reliability and performance, ensuring that the C73 wasn’t just a showpiece—it was built to last. This unique fusion of artistry and functionality became a hallmark of 333’s identity.
From the Road to the Track
The C73 Rapide wasn’t designed to stay confined to public roads. From the outset, 333 intended to take the car racing, and its track performance didn’t disappoint. The Rapide was entered into several European touring car championships, where its combination of light weight, agile handling, and supercharged power gave it a competitive edge.
In races across the Netherlands, Italy, and Germany, the Rapide earned victories and podium finishes, proving that 333 could stand toe-to-toe with Europe’s most established manufacturers. These successes weren’t just important for marketing—they were a testament to the car’s engineering excellence and a source of immense pride for the team behind it.
A New Standard in the Late 1960s
The 333 C73 Rapide wasn’t just fast—it was a bold statement of what was possible. By breaking the 200-horsepower barrier in a compact, lightweight package, it redefined expectations for sports coupes of the era. It was a car for enthusiasts who demanded more than just performance; they wanted innovation, precision, and the unmistakable thrill of driving something truly special.
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