Visceral Or Velveteen: What’s the Neoclassic Car Supposed to Be?

There was a time when looking like a refugee from the past ensured you were, in fact, at the cutting edge of automotive luxury and flair. I’m talking about neoclassic cars, a movement that began in the ‘60s and exploded in the following decade.

As a kid, I adored the 1979 book Elite Cars, a bible containing plenty of machines from the school of neoclassicism. Vehicles like the Clenet and the Sceptre aped ’20s and ’30s design language, while revivals of Stutz and Duesenberg pulled period marques from the archives and attempted to blow the dust away. “The neoclassics appeal to those who missed out on the chance to own one of the originals, or who simply prefer vintage styling combined with the advantages of a modern, reliable chassis and running gear,” the book’s introduction crows. Ha. The emission choking of ’70s regulations did nothing to age that sentiment.

More than forty years on, only a few are keeping the torch of these oddball status symbols burning. Myron Vernis, of Akron, Ohio, is one of those few. He owns a car from each end of the neoclassic spectrum – an Excalibur Roadster and a gilded, bastardized Lincoln called the Bugazzi (not to be confused with Bugatti). The Excalibur serves as the thesis statement, its rakish design beamed in from a bygone era and performance that embarrassed Corvettes of the day. This is the visceral neoclassic.

The Bugazzi is velveteen, more of a rolling couch than a hot coupé and the ultimate iteration of the “land yacht.” Everything’s turned up to eleven here (and, chances are, that’s how many of the alleged twelve-car ‘production’ run are left). I love satire, and the Bugazzi is satirizing the concept of “high-end automobile.” I mean, just look at the name!

When Vernis allowed me to visit his eclectic collection of cars, I received a metaphorical visit from my childhood self, who pored over Elite Cars and begged me to check out the Excalibur and the Bugazzi. In one corner, a genuine attempt at bringing the death-defying thrills of the past back. In the other, a fat cat that even Gatsby’s landlord could not have envisioned.

As I drove over to Vernis’ garage, I asked myself: What do people want out of a neoclassic? Do they want the to-the-bone thrill of the playboy racers from years past, or the smugness of eclipsing every Rolls-Royce at the club? Do they want an homage to ye olde sports cars, or something a Steely Dan song might mention in its lyrics about a prostitute killer? Do they want the smoke, or the joke?

It’s only fitting that the Excalibur Vernis owns is one of the earliest of the breed. The prototype’s debut in 1963 gave birth to the term “neoclassic,” after “contemporary classic” and the more humorous “new old car” failed to catch on.

Excalibur originated as a plan to save a flailing Studebaker, one of America’s oldest carmakers. Nicknamed “Mercebaker” for its Mercedes SSK-esque design, the low-slung, doorless wonder floored crowds at the 1963 New York Auto Show. Mission accomplished for designer Brooks Stevens, who envisioned Studebaker making the car as the SS. Problem was, though, Stude disowned the radical roadster at the last second before showtime. Stevens remained resolute, displayed the car as a “Special Project,” and began production himself, ditching the Studebaker powerplant for a 327 Chevrolet motor. Around one hundred of these svelte, O.G. Excaliburs were built.

Vernis calls the two-seater the “taproot vehicle” of the neoclassic style. “I think the genre probably started when people said to [Stevens] ‘I really want one of those cars, but I need back seats, and my wife can’t crawl over…,’” Vernis says. The Series I Phaeton, with seating for four and lacking dead-ringer SSK looks, is considered to be the proper starting point of the neoclassic.

Don’t be fooled by the Excalibur’s exquisite body, or the fact that the one I drove was allegedly bought new by a producer of pornography: this car gets vicious, quick. My focus on this aubergine roadster centered on maintaining a firm grip, and not just on the wooden shift lever from Hurst.

The Excalibur was acting a bit fussy before I took a spin, hence my refusal to pull over and take some more photos (for fear I’d be left stranded). That being said, 350 horsepower, a curb weight of just over a ton, and an absence of safety features means you’ll have your hands full even on a smooth drive. I grit my teeth, soaked in the rat-tat-tat from the sidepipes, and floored the brakes (which are akin to pencil erasers) between stoplight-to-stoplight rips.

Vernis told me, “You’re workin,’ dude!” He’s right. The Excalibur demands effort.

No wonder the car comes with air horns on the side: the freight-train driving experience feels as heavy-duty as the Bugazzi, despite the latter weighing almost three times as much.

Speaking of which, let’s have a look at the opulent-ay-eff Lincoln MK IV. I admit to originally thinking that the Bugazzi came to be in the late ‘70s, rather than 1972; it’s an omega point for the nouveau classique. When the Bugazzi rolled out of iconic customizer George Barris’ studio, the asking price scraped $50,000, which was “nice house” money in its day.

The interior, trimmed in marble, makes the set of Scarface seem corner-cutting.

Everything’s gold, Persian, leather, and creamy. As for the exterior, those wire wheels may just be my favorite feature of the car. Perfection.

I dig the little pinstripe design on the rear, as well.

As for the driving experience? Here we have a car you do not accelerate – you persuade the Bugazzi with an occasional glance at the Cartier clock before you. The cabin sways about, to the point that a seasick passenger is a more likely event than a carsick one. If you’re wondering, the V8 burble doesn’t escape from the sidepipes, mere ornaments in the quest to wow onlookers.

The Drive ran a great piece about Vernis’ Bugazzi in 2021. I would be foolish not to ask Victoria Scott, the journalist behind the article, about her experience behind the wheel.

Scott lovingly heralds the beast as a shameless piece of excess. “The Bugazzi’s relaxed demeanor about its extravagance is refreshing,” she says, in an age of modern luxury cars that feel the need to offer breakneck performance and the proverbial “loads more.” Like me, Scott agrees that the car is something of an ‘omega point,’ calling the Bugazzi “the final boss” of the land yacht.

If you’re curious, she’d take it any day over the giant-killing Excalibur. “The Bugazzi [is just] what it says on the tin. In the ‘60s, if you wanted vintage styling in a ‘modern’ car, you still had some MG models that were pretty solid track contenders!”

I wouldn’t. The Excalibur won my heart. If it were better-built and a smidge less risky in feeling, I’d grab the keys and the title. As a 1978 Porsche 928 owner, the Series I reminds me of an amped-up variation of the driving experience.

So why did this “old sport” movement jump from an emphasis on tire-squealing velocity to tire squealing in a gentle bend? When did extra features leap from a no-skid step over the searing-hot exhausts to a television?

I’d say that those who were rich enough to afford an Excalibur or, indeed, a Bugazzi, already had a bitchin’ Cobra or something of that ilk in their garages. Later Excaliburs (like the one in Elite Cars) grew bloated, serving an approximation of the Bugazzi’s grandeur. The majority of Excalibur’s clientele sought to be seen arriving, not leaving. No wonder the initial glimmer in Stevens’ eye devolved into parody.

While the Excalibur and Bugazzi have different missions, both of them make you feel like a character from fiction. The Excalibur: Mr. Toad from The Wind in the Willows. The Bugazzi: a Warner Brothers cartoon villain with a car that appears ten seconds before he does, the hood stretching out for ages. Each dish, while different, will leave you with a stupid grin and a full stomach. In a world where restomods, such as the 911s by Singer Vehicle Design and the Broncos and FJs by Icon, decorate driveways of the wealthy, perhaps we can view these old-school exercises in looking back and realize they were looking forward.