So whatever happened to Mr. Spock's Buick Riviera? It's questions like these that keep me up at night, fervently scanning online forums to find the thread that will lead to the discovery.
In this case, however, there has been no discovery. Or at least, not yet. As you're no doubt aware, with tributes coming in from every corner, Leonard Nimoy passed away last week at the age of 83. It's hard to think of an actor that had greater influence on pop culture, despite being known best for only one character. As Mr. Spock — the pointy-eared, cocked-eyebrow'd Vulcan — Nimoy was the perfect foil to William Shatner's bumptious Captain James T. Kirk. Coldly logical, impassive, possessed of alien blood and strange practices, Spock was nevertheless a deeply human character. We loved him for his failings, for his quirks, for the split-handed salute, "Live long, and prosper."
As the son of Orthodox Jewish immigrants growing up in Boston, Nimoy must have felt a bit of a stranger in a strange land himself. Perhaps it was this that led him to become an actor, seeking out a script to follow. He moved to Hollywood, but had little success before Star Trek came along in 1966 to make him an unlikely star. While Nimoy toiled in the acting trenches, several rather interesting things were happening in the automotive industry. Post-war America was booming, meaning that there was plenty of room for American cars to grow in size and luxury. In the midst of this blooming sheetmetal, Ford launched the Thunderbird, essentially creating the personal luxury segment.
Not quite as quick as a sportscar, not quite as flashy as a Grand Tourer, the personal luxury car was something unique for its time. Underpinned by American engines and transmissions, these cars gave their owners access to the feel and style of one-off European GTs, but without the huge pricetags and servicing costs. Think Cadillac Eldorado, the Continental, Oldsmobile Toronado, that sort of thing.
Over at Buick, the Riviera nameplate was attached to the Roadmaster series of cars, big beautiful hardtops with lashings of chrome. Initially, a Riviera designation meant a trim level of the Roadmaster rather than having its own separate identity.
However, by the late 1950s, GM was looking for a direct competitor to the Thunderbird, and the resulting Riviera would be something entirely unique. The Corvette already existed as a two-seat roadster, but the Thunderbird was growing in size and luxury, and something different would be in store for the 'Vette. GM designer Bill Mitchell, already well established for designs like the '55-'57 Chevrolet Bel Air, came up with a concept called the XP-715 for Cadillac. The rumour is that the sharp-edged style of this car was spurred by a visit to Europe and based on some of the custom coachwork found there.
Whatever the case, Mitchell's design didn't find favour with Cadillac, so GM opened things up to let its other divisions make the pitch. Buick won the chance to go toe-to-toe with the Thunderbird, and Mitchell's design was adapted to a Buick chassis. Unusual for a GM product of the time, it had a totally unique bodyshell, not shared with any of the other divisions.
Launching in 1963, the Riviera was lighter than many other contemporary large American cars, and had plenty of power from a choice of engines: either a 6.6-litre or 7.0-litre "Nailhead" V-8. By 1964 you could get it with the three-speed Turbo Hydramatic automatic transmission and a twin-carb option that bumped horsepower to a rumbling 360.
Power, style, presence, but the Riviera was no rip-roarin' muscle car, nor was it a sportscar. It was reserved, genteel, power hidden beneath the surface just like its hideaway headlamps. Now let's look at what was happening with the Corvette at the time.
In the 1960s, American astronauts were national heroes, and they all drove Corvettes. Rather famously, several of the Apollo crew would actually race each other around on the lonely desert roads near where they trained, dicing it up with big V-8 power. The 'Vette started off in the '50s as a light little sportster, but by the mid-'60s, it was a genuine barn-burner.
The astronauts all had them - and so did James T. Kirk. Makes sense really, when you think about it. Part of Star Trek's popularity comes from of its timing — it debuted just as the best, brightest and bravest in America were preparing for their moonshot. Star Trek was a view of what lay just ahead, if only we could first get that foothold in the stars.
In the production lot, side-by-side, you'd find Shatner's Corvette parked next to Leonard Nimoy's 1964 Buick Riviera. Well, most of the time you would — Shatner was much given to practical jokes, and once had the car towed away. He was reportedly always stealing Nimoy's on-set bicycle, and when Nimoy tucked his bike in the back of the Riviera for safekeeping, Shatner simply called in a tow truck so that Mr. Spock came out to find an empty spot where his car had once been. A highly illogical prank, and even if Vulcans don't get angry, I'm sure human Nimoy had a few choice words for his co-star.
A few pictures of the car exist, with Nimoy leaning up against it in full costume, both looking lean and angular. You can see part of Shatner's 1963 'Vette parked to the left, and the plate surround reads Westwood Larsen Buick.
What happened to it? Who knows. Nimoy's pride and joy — likely the first nice car he had thanks to his newfound success — might have ended up simply getting traded in. Plenty of Buick and Riviera fans have looked around for it, but there's no word on where it ended up.
I'd like to think it's tucked away in a garage somewhere, polished by somebody who loves the car, but perhaps doesn't know its backstory. It is, of course, illogical to prefer a mystery to the truth, but I think Mr. Spock would here allow us a rare nod of approval and agreement, and perhaps even a secret smile.
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