Parked In Drive: 1985 Lerini Armaretta Prototype

Initially, I drove to Penmar Golf Course expecting to find a Rolls-Royce.

My partner Leslie (a fine car spotter herself and the originator of the “Parked in Drive” name) mentioned seeing a swoopy car with a “flying lady” radiator mascot parked there for sale. When I pulled into the parking lot and saw this tan-on-brown behemoth, it was clear the Rolls was gone, replaced by something far more fascinating.

All the typical cues — separate fenders, landau top, whitewall tires — indicating a classic car also placed it in that most self-contradictory of categories: “Neo-Classic.” The coupe’s “bustle-back” trunk initially reminded me of the last Cadillac design approved by Bill Mitchell, the second-generation Cadillac Seville (which, in turn, took inspiration from t he mid-1930s “Razor Edge” Bentley), and gave me a useful spread of dates to search: 1980-1985.

A closer look at the trunk revealed the unknown automobile’s badge: “Armaretta,” a name to match the coupe’s mocha latte hue. A single pinstripe separated the tan trapezoid of a trunk from the protruding brown fenders. Looking at the Amaretta’s side profile a few steps away revealed the dominant influence in the car’s design: The 1936-1937 “Coffin-Nose” Cord 810. Following the chrome strip that peeks out behind the front fender, you’ll find six other (mostly) straight strips that outline the “coffin” of Gordon Beuhrig’s groundbreaking 1935 design, though it must be mentioned the Cord’s grille goes about its business in a more elegant manner. The peak of the Amaretta’s hood comes to a narrow point considering the legacy engine fitted underneath, with the front end accentuated by a humble flick of the opponent-color pinstripe and a golden lowercase “a” badge.

The genuine article: A 1937 Cord 812 Supercharged Phaeton at the 2017 Arizona Concours

While I drove home to research the lineage of this mid-1980s neo-classic, I considered the conditions in which it existed. I have to believe it started a decade prior with the mid-1970s Colonial Revival movement. As America celebrated its 200th birthday in 1976 with an economy just coming off a stagnant recession, its people naturally looked backwards to a time when patriotic bravado really meant something. This nostalgia manifested itself architecturally in the faux-columns that guarded the front doors of 1970s suburban homes; their living rooms invariably wood-paneled; their plates commemorative.

With the look backwards in architecture came an inevitable revival of classic automobiles. While nobody wanted to wind the clock back to the days of the horse and carriage, the period of art-deco automobile design between the late 1920s and the start of World War II was deemed worthy of a second look. By the 1970s, Brooks Stevens’ Excalibur — the undisputed godfather of the neo-classic movement — was already in its third generation. It was soon joined by a reborn Stutz Motor Car of America (1970) along with upstarts Clénet Coachworks (1975) and Zimmer Motor Car Co (1978). The Elite Heritage Motors Corp (1978) translated its historical influences literally, leaving many casual observers unable to tell a Duesenberg II from an original unless they tapped the front fender and found it to be fiberglass instead of steel. The first batch of replica Porsche 356 Speedsters were completed in 1975 by Automobili Intermeccanica, which shows the urge to revisit the past wasn’t limited to luxury cars. (Check out this Canadian car website for a timeline featuring more neo-classics than you probably ever knew existed.)

The Armaretta’s main competition in-period, a 1981 Clenet (top) and a “Gazelle” of unknown vintage (bottom)

Taking another step back: The idea of driving a classic automobile with modern underpinnings is one that never really went out of fashion. The finished product may be labeled an “outlaw,” or a “tribute,” or — worse still — a “replicar,” but the desire to enjoy retro styling while still keeping the convenience and capability implied by a modern powertrain unites every one of these low-production builders of nostalgia. This trend still exists today, with modern interpretations of Toyota’s venerable Land Cruiser by Jonathan Ward’s ICON and Porsche’s iconic 911 by Rob Dickinson’s Singer Vehicle Design, proving buyers still want to have the best of both worlds.

So, where does the Armaretta fit into all of this? Founded in 1983, the Lerini Coach Corporation of Reseda, California produced its first prototype car in 1985, 10 years after the first wave of neo-classics. Like Clénet and Intermeccanica, Lerini took advantage of the skilled workforce in Southern California; designers and hot rodders who knew how to mold fiberglass into classic shapes. Built by Ed Matula, the designer of the 1971 Talon GT sports car, at Bill Matthews shop in Ventura, California, the prototype Armaretta was actually made from two cars — a Ford Pinto was chopped and stretched over a Chevrolet Malibu chassis. The mixing of engine and body didn’t bode well for ongoing reliability, and the company moved to a Pontiac Sunbird/Chevy Malibu combination when it came time for production. According to Matula, that decision was also customer-driven, as Lerini received many requests for convertibles, and the prototype Pinto body “did not fit the bill.”

A period photo of the Armaretta prototype (right) posted by builder Ed Matula

Looking at photographs of the prototype Armaretta, you can see the fabric top is merely a tonneau cover — a trick that customizers usually employ when they are trying to mask alterations in the body. Knowing that the Armaretta is a mashup of Pinto and Malibu makes more sense. From the firewall back, the Pinto’s body shell wasn’t significantly altered to make the Armaretta coupe. Granted, the expansive glass hatchback (the Pinto “Runabout” model’s star feature) has been subbed out for a Seville-style trunk, and the Pinto’s hood has been stretched to fit the Malibu frame, its subtle fenders festooned with fiberglass.

Whether you think the Armaretta prototype “works” comes down to whether you think the mishmash of material ingredients and influences compliment one another. I’m inclined to believe the original Pinto never got its due. That same argument could be made for the first class of American sub-compact cars, all of which look like collectors items now. Using a Pinto as a base to build a Cord 810 knockoff is an odd compliment, one that was slightly negated by Lerini’s decision to move to the larger 1985 Chevrolet Cavalier body for its $49,000 production car.

Sadly, Lerini’s customers only purchased an estimated 30 Armaretta coupes, convertibles, and sedans, and the company reportedly folded in 1988. The alleged culprit behind the bankruptcy was the Armaretta’s extreme asking price; $50,000 could have nearly purchased a Mercedes-Benz 560 SEL in 1985. And yet, this criticism seems harsh — low-volume custom cars are always going to be expensive, whether they’re built by Stutz in 1987 or Singer in 2017. A theoretical customer in 1985 would be cross-shopping the Armaretta against the Fiero-based Zimmer Quicksilver for the same price.

The famed Zimmer Quicksilver of Olympic Blvd. in Los Angeles

Even if I wouldn’t’ve personally invested in a brand-new Armaretta (or even a gently used one), I must admit any prototype that can survive (and drive) three decades after it was built is impressive.

A few days after I saw the Armaretta parked at the golf course, I was walking on Washington Blvd. in Culver City and saw an oddly proportioned, two-tone brown shape driving towards me. Of course, it was the Armaretta prototype. I was too stunned to take a photograph, but I believe it to be a good omen regardless. If the Armaretta is up and running around West L.A., I stand a good chance of seeing it again. And if I do, you’ll be the first to know.