Bricklin SV-1 | Spotted

A curio blast from Canada's past, the UK's only Bricklin SV-1 has quite a story to tell

Even among the most historic manufacturers to grace the automotive industry over the years - Ferrari, Bentley, Bugatti et al - how many marques can claim to have had an entire stage production written specifically about them? That’s the case for the maker of today’s Spotted, though, a company that you may never have heard of, but whose strange story was once resurrected in its very own musical.

Malcom Bricklin was not like other automotive execs. An entrepreneur from a young age, his 50-plus year career saw him found Subaru of America, import and sell the Fiat X1/9 and 124, bring the cult hero Yugo to US shores and hatch a plan to combine the worlds of high-end car sales and fine art dealership. No surprise, then, that Rolling Stone once described him as "brash, bombastic, and pathologically prone to betting the farm on pie-in-the-sky automotive endeavours." It’s certainly true that some ventures were more successful than others, but none was quite so controversial as his attempt at manufacturing a vehicle of his own.

Having founded his own marque, imaginatively dubbed General Vehicle, Bricklin set about developing his eponymous machine in 1971. Dubbed the Bricklin SV-1, the car was a two-seat sports coupe with gullwing doors, pop-up headlights and fibreglass bodywork. On paper, it ticked all the right boxes, in person too, its stocky wedge styling reminiscent of all the period’s best muscle car designs.

Under the bonnet was, of course, a V8 - initially a 220hp AMC motor but, following supply problems, a 5.8-litre Ford unit by the time of today’s Spotted. This was originally paired to a choice of three-speed auto or four-speed manual transmission although, again, by our car’s production date only the auto option remained. So equipped, the Bricklin produced just 175hp and 286lb ft, making it a good thing that the car’s lightweight design left less mass to shift. Except that wasn’t quite the case.

You see, the letters SV stood not for Super Veloce, but the rather less hair-raising Safety Vehicle. The Bricklin was designed to out-perform not just its rivals, but the contemporary US crash protection standards too, leading to features such as the peculiar front bumper which was intended to absorb impacts of up to 5mph. Its design, plus the car’s steel ‘perimeter frame’ and integrated roll cage, added significant weight. Once the hydraulically-assisted doors were taken into account - which weighed 40kg each and took 12 seconds to open or close - the SV-1 tipped the scales at a hefty 1,600kg.

But that wasn’t the problem. Despite its weight, when Car and Driver pitted a 1975 Bricklin against a Corvette from the same year, the underdog competed with the Chevy on almost every front, the publication declaring it to be "a tangible threat” to the established icon. Instead it was that fibreglass body which consistently undermined SV-1 production, the material comprised 22 separate parts of the car, but issues with blistering and delamination meant that up to 60 per cent of the components initially produced had to be discarded. By the second year of production that number was reduced to a still-inefficient 25 per cent, but it was already too late. Even the completed fibreglass structures could flex, compromising seals and causing the car to leak. The battery, too, was found to be temperamental in hot weather, rendering the electrically-operated doors useless and trapping occupants inside.

Having initially marketed the car at a low-ball price of just $4,000 - over $1,500 cheaper than the Corvette - by 1975 it’s RRP had more than doubled to $9,980 - almost $4,000 more expensive than the now $6,000 Chevy. With the company’s headquarters based in New Brunswick, the local Canadian government had provided initial financing of $4.5m but, following just a two year production run, Bricklin folded in owing the state authorities a whopping $23m. Just under 3,000 cars were built in total, many of which were sold at a loss, and only around 1,700 of which are thought to survive today.

Those that do live on, though, like our Spotted, can count themselves witnesses to a unique chapter in automotive history. Less famous than John Delorean’s similarly ill-fated would become a decade later, perhaps, but equally as interesting nonetheless. The ad describes this example as being both “in fine working order” and “thought to be the only car running in the UK today” both of which ought to add to its curio appeal. At £32,500, though, it remains a long way off that original $4k target.

See the full ad here.

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