At $17,500, Is This 1969 Avanti II Too Good To Pass Up?

Today’s Nice Price or No Dice Avanti is named after a kingdom of ancient India. Let’s see if this one’s price tag makes it a historically good deal.

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There are those who advocate that the way to go through life is to “fake it ’til you make it.” When it came to yesterday’s 2007 Porsche Cayman, however, a fake “S” badge was enough to make the majority of you question the car’s $22,400 asking price. In the end, reality set in for the seller as the hammer dropped in a 60 percent No Dice loss.

Despite that result, it’s inarguable that the Porsche Cayman — even yesterday’s car — holds an inexorable attraction. With its introduction in 2006, Porsche created an instant classic. The same could easily be said about the April 1962 introduction of the Studebaker Avanti. So, too, of its 1966 re-introduction after having failed in the mission to save its original parent, Studebaker Motors. The same cannot be said, though, about the model’s later iterations in the ’80s and ’90s, which involved hot potato ownership, corruption and fraud, and ended with a series of thinly-veiled Mustangs and Firebirds that proved more offensive to the Avanti’s legacy than a homage.

For our purposes, we’re going to stick with the 1960s Avantis. At that time, in the early part of the decade, Studebaker was on the ropes financially. Stymied by the double punch of a general economic downturn and the competitive pressure created by the Big Three automakers, Studebaker installed a new CEO in an effort to turn things around. Sherwood Egbert took the company’s reins in early 1961 and, as the first order of business, set about commissioning a new model that would serve as the company’s halo car. Egbert’s vision was of a personal coupe that could compete with Chevrolet’s Corvette and Ford’s Thunderbird.

Realizing that time was not on the company’s side and seeking to avoid the delays inherent in undertaking the project in-house, Egbert phoned up renowned industrial designer Raymond Loewy for the project. Loewy assembled a small skunkwork of three additional designers and sequestered the team in a rented house in Palm Springs, California, where he led the work. There, the Avanti’s design took on its eventual shape: a long-nose, short-deck two-door fiberglass four-seater with a bottom-breather nose and wrap-around rear window.

The original idea was for the car to ride on a newly designed chassis, but time and budgetary constraints ixnayed that idea, and the new car adopted the existing chassis of the compact Lark. Studebaker’s V8, in naturally aspirated and supercharged editions, provided power, while either a four-speed manual or Borg-Warner three-speed automatic could be fitted behind those.

In short, the Avanti proved too little too late for Studebaker, as pricing and other issues limited its sales. Studebaker spiraled into obsolescence, shuttering its South Bend, Indiana factory in 1963 and finally closing its last assembly plant in Hamilton, Ontario, in March 1966.

Amazingly, though, the Avanti saw a second life as a stand-alone model beginning in 1964 when South Bend Studebaker dealers Nate Altman and Leo Newman secured the licenses for the name and design, as well as much of the tooling and factory space to restart production.

Studebaker had already started sourcing engines from Chevrolet before going belly-up, so the revitalized model’s drivetrain wouldn’t be challenging. The new owners were also able to contract with the original body maker, MFG, to supply the fiberglass body panels and inked a new contract with the Budd Corporation to produce Lark frames to complete the car. While even more expensive than the original Avanti, the now rechristened Avanti II would prove a winner for a time as a boutique niche offering.