Even when the Gremlin bowed in 1970 AMC knew it would not be enough, and by the beginning of 1971 they were at work on a follow-up. When it finally appeared in 1975 it was hailed as a revolution. When it died four and a half years later it was already becoming the butt of jokes. We refer, of course, to the unmistakable AMC Pacer.



"Suddenly, it's 1980" was how Motor Trend hailed the Pacer in their February 1975 issue (alluding to the famous Plymouth slogan of 1957, "suddenly it's 1960"), calling it the most revolutionary American car in 15 years.



Certainly, it looked like nothing else. Stubby but wide, with compound curves that made it look like a plastic toy (or, as Road &amp; Track put it, a toaster), massive glass area, and asymmetrical doors, it was definitely futuristic, more like something from Star Trek than an American automaker. But it was designed for a future that never quite came, and the failure of the real world to live up to the vision of its original design proved the Pacer's undoing.



The Pacer began early in 1971 as "Project Amigo." It was led by Gerry Meyers, AMC's product development VP, and designed by Chuck Mashigan's Advanced Styling team, supervised, naturally, by styling VP Dick Teague.



Meyers, Mashigan, and Teague were looking hard at the future of the automobile, which in 1971 was an open question. The safety and pollution standards on the table for 1980 were draconian. The crash standards initially included requirements for 50-mph frontal impacts, as well as rollover protection; the latter requirement nearly led to the demise of convertibles after 1976. The emissions requirements planned for the 1980's threatened to make the traditional four-stroke engine obsolete. At the same time major metropolitan areas were seeing substantial increases in urban sprawl and traffic congestion. It seemed unavoidable that the car of the future, at least the city commuter, would have to be smaller, easier to maneuver, and better suited to heavy traffic conditions. Despite its small size, it would still have to carry full-sized adults, and provision would have to be made for the kind of crash protection demanded by the pending federal regulations.



With all this said, the resultant design of the Pacer becomes easier to understand. Designed for crowded urban freeays, it was relatively short: 171.5 inches on a 100-inch wheelbase, six inches longer than the Gremlin. It had massive windows and a very low beltline for better visibility. (The Pacer had 5,615 square inches of glass, more than 50% more than most compact cars.) Its smooth curves cut aerodynamic drag; the Pacer's coefficient of aerodynamic drag was 0.32, a credible figure even by modern standards, and night and day better than most of its contemporaries. To allow decent room for adults, it was wide, 77.3 inches, wide enough that AMC officials parked a Chevy Vega in a Pacer model to demonstrate its dimensions. Unlike Gremlin, Pacer would be a true hatchback, with fold-down rear seats to expand its luggage capacity. Since it was a two-door car, the assymmetrical doors (the passenger door was 2.5 inches longer than the driver's) improved access to the back seat.



Under the skin, however, the Pacer proved less futuristic than it appeared, and therein lay its dilemma.



First, it was originally engineered for the mooted crash standards, including thick B-pillars that were designed to contain a functional roll bar. When the proposed standards did not actually materialize (which was the reason Chrysler was able to reintroduce convertibles in 1982) the roll bar was removed and the reinforcements in other areas were lightened, but the body was still designed for the heavy-duty crash protection, making it bulkier and heavier than it would otherwise have been.



Second, it remained an adherent of what the French call le systeme Panhard: front engine, rear drive, with a conventional prop shaft, along with a very conventional suspension (unequal-length A-arms and coil springs in front, Hotchkiss drive in back). Gerry Meyers claimed that AMC considered front-wheel drive, but rejected it because research showed that American buyers considered it too new and untried. This may have been true -- the Mini had never been a big seller in the U.S., and the VW Golf was still in the future when the Pacer was conceived -- but it was also likely that designing a front-wheel drive powertrain was well beyond AMC's financial resources. Even without FWD, the Pacer was expensive to develop, costing $60 million, a lot of money for cash-strapped American. Nonetheless, the RWD layout had significant consequences: the heavy rear axle (borrowed from the intermediate Matador), driveshaft tunnel, and differential hump cut sharply into rear seat room and comfort and added further to the Pacer's mass.



The great letdown of the Pacer, however, was its engine. It was designed not for a conventional engine, but for a two-chamber Wankel rotary engine.



Named for Dr. Felix Wankel, who first patented it in 1936, the rotary engine uses roughly triangular-shaped pistons spinning in a fixed housing; the rotation of the piston completes the same cycle (intake, compression, ignition, and exhaust) as an Otto-cycle (four-stroke, spark-fired) engine. A Wankel engine is lighter and more compact than reciprocating engine of the same output, with fewer parts and smoother operation. The rotary engine was a cause celebre in the late sixties and early seventies, when it briefly seemed like it would eventually replace the Otto cycle engine. Unfortunately, its inefficient combustion chamber shape makes the Wankel thirstier than a comparable reciprocating engine, and while the rotary engine produces fewer oxides of nitrogen than a reciprocating engine, its hydrocarbon and carbon monoxide emissions are higher. Worse, the rotor seals take a real pounding, and finding materials that could stand up over extended mileage was difficult.



In the early seventies GM seriously planned to produce its own Wankel engine, under license from Curtiss-Wright and NSU-Wankel, which controlled the patents. The GM rotary would've been used in two-rotor form in the Chevy Monza and in four-rotor form in a planned mid-engine Corvette. AMC had an agreement to purchase GM Wankels until it could tool up to produce its own, paying about $2 million for its own license, which it never used. Unfortunately, GM's Wankel suffered considerable development problems, not helped by the dismal reputation of NSU's Ro80 sedan, one of the first Wankel-engined passenger cars. GM finally canceled it before it ever reaching full production.



In its place AMC was forced to substitute its well-tried inline-six, which dated back to the mid-sixties. It was a hasty, last-minute improvisation; a hole had to be cut in the firewall to fit the six in the engine compartment, and the rear two cylinders were under the cowl, making it look like a four at a casual glance. The six weighed about 500 pounds, at least 250 pounds heavier than the Wankel originally intended for the car. It was offered in two forms, the 232 (3.8L) and the 258 (4.2L). Initially, both were rated at 100 net hp, although the 258 had more torque; they were subsequently re-rated 90 and 95 net hp.



The delays in the engine department may contributed to the late debut of the Pacer -- full production didn't begin until January 1975, nearly four years after development began, and it didn't go on sale until February 28 of that year.



Reviewers were positive about its unique styling, but disappointed in the Pacer's performance. Road &amp; Track, testing a '75 Pacer with the big six and automatic, obtained 0-60 in a snail-like 15.8 seconds, acheiving a maximum speed of 88 mph. The quarter mile took 20.3 seconds, crossing the line at 67.0 mph. Lateral acceleration was 0.65g, and it took them a lengthy 179 feet to stop from 60 mph. They averaged only 16 mpg. Car &amp; Driver got 16.2 seconds 0-60 with another, less heavily optioned automatic car, clocking a top speed of only 84 mph and a maximum of 17 mpg.



The disappointing fuel economy and mediocre acceleration were a direct result of the Pacer's weight. It may have been compact in dimensions, but the big engine, bulky RWD mechanicals, and massive glass area (the Pacer had about 150 pounds of glass) helped to push its weight to more than 3,200 pounds, more than 500 pounds heavier than the Gremlin. R&amp;T's heavily optioned tester, with air conditioning and automatic, tipped the scales at 3,425 pounds. For all that mass, it still had a cramped rear seat, and, with the back seat raised, only 5.2 cu. ft. of cargo room.



The Pacer was not particularly impressive in other dynamic areas, either. Like the Gremlin, its standard manual steering (rack and pinion, not recirculating ball) was exceedingly slow, requiring almost six turns lock to lock; the power steering was much better, but added $119 to what was supposed to be an economy car price tag. Its handling was compromised by small tires and the soft rubber bushings and iso-clamps used to soak up ride harshness, which caused some alarming "rubber banding" in hard cornering (delayed reaction to steering corrections caused by the compression of the rubber). The standard drum brakes were inadequate, and the optional front discs ($47) only a partial fix, hampered by rear wheel hop and erratic wheel lockup.



The basic Pacer started at $3,299. In 1975 that was about $200 more than a Ford Maverick and a considerable $500 more than a Pinto. Adding power steering, automatic, front discs, radio, and other accessories would quickly push it to about $4,000, which was as much as a typical intermediate. There were two plusher Pacer models: the D/L (adding $289), which added wheel covers, upgraded trim, woodgrain trim, and individual front seats; and the sporty X ($339), which added bucket seats, a sport steering wheel, a floor shifter, and different trim and badges. With every available option, you could push the price to around $5,700, as much as some full-sized cars.



Despite all this, the Pacer sold relatively well at first -- 72,158 in the first partial model year, 117,244 for 1976. As with the Gremlin before it, the Pacer's unusual appearance probably helped more than it hurt.



For 1976 a two-barrel version of the 258 was added to the options list, making 120 net horsepower and 200 lb-ft of torque. It was initially available only with automatic. C/D found it cut 0-60 times to 13.4 seconds, with the quarter mile coming up in 18.6 seconds at 71.0 mph. At mid-year, a new four-speed manual transmission became optional, adding to the Pacer's flexibility. R&amp;T found a four-speed, big engine Pacer could reach 105 mph, a big improvement on their original test car.



By then, though, the bloom was off the rose. C/D said in May 1976, said, "One wants to like the Pacer. It's a cleanly designed, admirably styled car that's much in the commendable spirit of getting more by buying less. Yet its wideness ends up seeming excessive, and some of the interior room seems so much wasted space. Aside from its novel styling, the Pacer remains a far less distinguished car than it deserves to be." The press -- and the public -- were becoming more enamored with newer rivals.



AMC responded by adding a new body style for 1977, a compact station wagon (estate, for our British readers). It was 3.5 inches longer than the regular pacer, with reshaped roof and tail. It was only a little heavier, and it had similar performance. It had much more versatile cargo room, however, and slightly more conventional proportions.



The Pacer got a new front end with an eggcrate grille in 1978. The Pacer X was dropped and the D/L trim package became standard. The six-cylinder engines were supplemented by an optional V8, the familiar 304, now down to 130 net horsepower. It gave peppier performance, but added even more weight, the last thing the Pacer needed, and dragged fuel economy down even further. It accounted for only about 10% of Pacer sales. (This was not the first time a V8 had been seen under Pacer hoods. Carl Green Enterprises built some V8 Pacer X models throughout its model run, usually using the AMC 401 engine from the Javelin and Matador. Like the V8 Gremlin, they were real sleepers.)



Sales, though, continued to drop. For 1977 they were down to 58,264, 37,999 of which were wagons. The public had soured on the Pacer's eccentric styling, and the more conventional-looking wagon would outsell the standard Pacer for the rest of its run. For 1978 sales plummeted to 21,231, and then to 10,215 for 1979. Only 1,746 were sold in the final 1980 run, with production ending in December 1979. 280,858 American models had been produced in all. (The Pacer was also sold in Mexico through Vehiculos Automotores Mexicanos from 1976 to 1979, some with a 282 cu. in. (4.6L) version of the six, rated at 174 hp. We don't currently have figures for Mexican Pacer production.) There had been plans for a while for a 1981 Pacer, but with its precipitous sales drop in its final years, there was no chance.



What happened? However futuristic the Pacer may have looked, its thunder was stolen by the arrival of the real car of the future: the Volkswagen Rabbit (known in Europe as teh Golf). The Rabbit was a lightweight monocoque hatchback with fashionably angular styling, penned by Italy's Giorgetto Giugiaro. With MacPherson strut front suspension, a transverse four-cylinder engine, and front-wheel drive, it was vastly more space efficient than the Pacer, offering nearly as much useful interior room in a car 16 inches shorter and fully 1,200 pounds lighter. Despite a much smaller engine than the Pacer, its light weight gave it superior performance and significantly better fuel economy. It was also nimble and fun to drive in a way the clumsy Pacer simply couldn't be. The Pacer was quieter and rode smoother, but with comparable pricing -- base price of the Rabbit in 1975 was only $31 more than the Pacer -- it came across as a poor second. AMC's dilemma was made worse the following year with the debut of the Honda Accord, which matched the Rabbit for packaging efficiency and economy and would soon surpass it for build quality.



If the Pacer had followed its original plan, would it have done better? If AMC had been able to buy the aborted Chevy Wankel, the Pacer would have been lighter, certainly, but probably no more economical. Given GM's track record, the new engine likely would have been problematic (look at the history of the Chevy Vega's aluminum-block four in this same period). The AMC six may have been heavy and relatively anemic, but it was at least reasonably dependable. Even with the Wankel engine and the thinner, lighter glass Teague had hoped to use, the Pacer would still have been nearly 800 pounds heavier and far clumsier than the Rabbit or Accord.



In a sense all car designers are futurists, since they're working on vehicles that will not see the light of day until at least two years later. Styling and design a delicate balancing act -- you must be advanced enough not to become dated, but not so radical as to scare away the public. Radically styled and engineered cars can sometimes succeed, but they have to work well; it's not enough to be merely good enough. The Pacer was good enough in some areas, sadly deficient in others, and superb in none, and that proved its undoing.



So, too, American Motors. It would shortly enter into a problematic relationship with Renault, doing neither company any favors, and was finally bought by Chrysler in 1987. By that time its principal value was the Jeep brand. Throughout its history AMC had tried again and again to offer clever niche products to let it survive against the Big Three and its foreign competition, but those products had produced niche-market revenues, too, dooming each subsequent offering to be a little less than it promised.



AMC still has a lot of fans, as does the Pacer. Charlie and Debbie, the owners of the blue cars in the photos, are two such enthusiasts. Charlie has owned the Pastel Blue Gremlin since it was new. He told us, "This Gremlin was my first new car, purchased it at the age of 21 in 1975. I had gone to the local dealer to buy a Javelin, but was told that 74 was the last year they were made...On my way out, I saw this Gremlin on the show room floor and it was an immediate 'had to have.'" A few year ago, while scouring eBay for Gremlin parts, he discovered the Pastel Blue Pacer for sale. Debbie had wanted a Pacer for year, he said, and the fact that it was the same color as his Gremlin (and the same color as the Pacer in Wayne's World) was perfect. "The guy selling it lived less than two hours away from me," he said. "He had bought it to restore, but was injured at work and was placed on disability. I got the sense the wife made him sell it. I figured if we were ever going to buy a Pacer, that would be the one! Well, we won the bid and my wife got her Pacer for Christmas. (I loved watching the expression on people's faces when my wife told them what she got for Christmas.)"



Not a lot of Pacers survive intact, and unlike more popular cars like the Mustang, no reproduction parts are available, although mechanical parts for its engine and driveline are easier to come by. The Pacer has flirted with collectible status for years, but it remains decidedly a special-interest car. It remains a symbol of a future that -- perhaps fortunately -- passed us by.

