It’s 30 years since Holden’s Commodore was born. Glenn Torrens reminiscences about a badge that helped shape a generation of Australian lives.
I recall my excitement – almost astonishment – as I saw this incredible car for the first time. The metallic green sedan was a new company car and it belonged to the grumpy man at the end of the street who always parked the ‘wrong’ way (because, Mum said, he was from overseas and that’s how people parked over there). For a car-crazy eight-year-old like me, seeing that Holden Commodore SL sedan was like seeing a spaceship.
That was 30 years ago – spring 1978 – and Holden had just presented the Commodore to Australia. In fact, the car’s launch date was October 26 – my birthday. Ever since I could crawl, I had been fascinated by anything to do with cars or motoring. The Commodore was my first major model release – in the same way Superman or Watership Down was many kids’ first major movie experience. I read every scrap of info – ads and reviews – I could in Dad’s daily paper (The Sun) and obsessively studied the TV commercials beamed into Mum and Dad’s lounge room… in glorious black and white. My dad and his mates wore brown shirts, their hair over their ears and wire-framed, grade-tinted sunnies above moustaches. The ladies Mum went to tennis with all had Farrah Fawcett hair.
I didn’t know it at the time, but the Commodore’s launch was a big moment for Australia, too. No car since the first ‘Humpy’ Holden (also celebrating its birthday – it was launched in November 1948) created such ecstasy: straight away, the Commodore set new standards for ride and handling in an Australian car. That had a ripple effect on the society that bought it – it raised their expectations – and the industry that built it. The Australian motoring industry had to play catch up – even Holden.
Why was the first Commodore so impressive? It had its origins in the German-designed Opel Rekord and featured strut-type front suspension under a relatively light body. The Opel design was originally intended for four- and six-cylinder engines and smooth European roads, so it required extensive re-engineering to survive rougher Australian conditions (Holden had, and still has, very high product durability standards) and accept the heavier, torquier Holden engines, including a powerful 5.0-litre V8.
In 1978, there were three models: Commodore, Commodore SL and the luxury SL/E. Grumpy Man’s SL was Holden’s mid-range model; roughly equivalent to today’s Berlina. There was no sporty SS, no ute, no wagon (that arrived later, in the same manner as this year’s VE Sportwagon), and no high-grunt HSV versions or V-spec upgrades.
At least those three meagre models were available with a selection of two six and two V8 engines, ranging from a 2.85-litre to 5.0-litre, with manual or auto transmissions. Then as now, not all engines could be bought in all models, but there was something to satisfy most customers. Those Aussie-designed and made engines were shared with the larger Holden Kingswood and smaller Holden Torana, two models the Commodore would ultimately replace.
Just three years later, the Torana and Kingswood were gone (however the Kingswood carried on as a ute and panel van, and as the foundation for the Statesman until 1984), leaving the Commodore as Holden’s only ‘large’ six-cylinder/V8 car. The cast-iron engines were updated to use less fuel in 1980 (with the VC series update) and a four-cylinder model made an appearance.
The Commodore four seemed like a good idea at the time – then, as now, there was a fuel crisis – and medium-sized four-cylinder cars such as the Chrysler Sigma and Datsun Bluebird were selling well. But the reality was the engine in the Commodore was inefficient and in some circumstances used as much fuel as the regular six-cylinder. The four was on sale for just a couple of years in the VC and VH models and it’s a rare sight these days.
By late 1981 the Commodore VH series had received shaper styling around its nose and tail and by late 1984 the smaller of the two engine types – 2.8-litre six and 4.2-litre V8 – had been deleted in favour of the 3.3-litre six and 5.0-litre V8. This new VK series model had been restyled – the chrome bumpers were gone, replaced by plastic – and renamed, too: SL, Executive (a new model), Berlina and Calais.
The public liked what it saw and the VK was well regarded. However, around this time word spread that Holden had decided to buy in a Nissan designed and made six-cylinder engine for the 1986 VL Commodore and replace its V8 with a Nissan turbo.
Public fury was the response. Holden had to find a replacement for its ageing six-cylinder engines, as they were inefficient and wouldn’t run on the unleaded petrol to be introduced for 1986. But news that the company was dropping its V8 engine was the stimulus for about 7000 people – encouraged by a campaign in motoring magazines – to write to Holden’s management begging they reverse their decision.
To the relief of almost every Australian rev-head, Holden listened to its customers. The Holden V8 was re-engineered for unleaded and went on sale beside the two Nissan engines in the 1986 VL. In hindsight, the decision to continue with the V8 in Commodore was significant: Its presence in the range allowed Holden to keep developing large, powerful rear-drive cars of the type now being exported to the Middle East and the US. But more on that later…
The Commodore had always been popular, but it was smaller than its arch rival, the Ford Falcon. That changed in 1988 with the new VN series. The ‘jellybean’ Commodore (as it was soon known) was wider and longer and had aerodynamic flush-fit glass. Although it looked all-new (and in most regards, it was) the VN was built on the tough underpinnings of the first generation cars that had, by now, a decade of success. But there was a big change under the bonnet: a US-sourced fuel injected V6 engine. Exchange rate woes with the Japanese-made Nissan engine had cut into profits. The new GM V6 was torquey and efficient, but somewhat coarse.
Over time, the Buick V6 was smoothed and refined in VP, VR and VS series models that hosted the introduction of independent rear suspension, ABS brakes and driver and passenger airbags. The VP was also the basis for the reintroduction of the Statesman and Caprice – Holden’s flagship long-wheelbase limos. The V6 engine was made even smoother with a major redesign in late 1995. Holden was pulling together all the threads for possibly the most significant Commodore since the original: the 1997 VT.
It was this Commodore (and its derivatives) that allowed Holden to crack into major exports – first to the Middle East, then into the US. By 1997, Holden was the last GM division manufacturing a large rear-wheel drive car, so it inherited the role of RWD passenger car development for the GM empire. During the mid-1990s, this allowed Holden to tout for the Middle East market, after the American-made Chev Caprice came to the end of its production run. In the US car’s place now is the Australian-made Holden Caprice with left-hand drive.
At the 1998 Sydney Motor Show, Holden revealed the ‘VT Coupe Concept’ show car. Holden stylist Mike Simcoe – the man responsible for the Concept (and the styling of the VT sedan it was based on) – said it was “a totally deliverable design”, meaning the car could be manufactured without too much trouble. But as the VT Concept was a ‘secret project’ that (legend has it) not even Holden management knew about until days before the show, the production green light hadn’t been given.
But as with the V8 engine in the mid 1980s, public passion guided the company’s direction. The ‘VT Concept’ became the born-again Holden Monaro. In turn, the Monaro was re-badged Pontiac GTO and exported in small numbers to the US.
Today’s VE Commodore was designed from the ground up as an international market car – a car that can ‘make the grade’ anywhere on the planet. As well as the Middle East with its long-wheelbase Statesman brother, Commodore is sold as the Pontiac G8 in the US. Not only that, its Aussie-designed platform (the major structures of heating and air-con, and suspension and drivelines) is the underpinning of the new Chev Camaro. The Statesman is also the basis for a Chinese-market Buick.
So, from a design borrowed and adapted for the small Australian market 30 years ago, the now-Australian design is appreciated in plenty of other places, too.
Happy birthday, Commodore. May there be plenty more – for both of us!
As the Holden Commodore’s 30th anniversary draws to a close, we celebrate with a three-way test drive comparison
1975 HJ KingswoodEngine: 3.3-litre, three-speed six-cylinder
Weight: 1345kg
As I look back on my two years as a Kingswood driver, I’m reminded of those stickers you sometimes see on the back windows of older cars: Classic not plastic. Everything about the Kingswood was heavy and durable, from the steel door handles to the bumper bar we used as a rail for our skateboards. Or as a friend at the time so succinctly put it: “This car’s a tank.”
The trouble with a tank is that it needs a large engine to make it go. While the Kingswood’s 202 (3.3-litre) engine was pretty good in the torque department, acceleration was not its forte. Only that’s too kind; the ‘red’ engine struggled in almost every situation unless that situation happened to be a downhill slope. With a meagre 101kW of power and only three gears to lurch through, this is perhaps no surprise. I envied those Kingswood drivers with the 4.2 and 5.0-litre V8 options.
Driving a Kingswood was also a noisy experience. It did not seem to insulate against any sound, either from the engine or from the cars outside. Its steering completed the tank analogy: good upper body strength was a prerequisite in prospective drivers.
One thing you weren’t in a Kingswood was cramped. In fact, if you happened to drop something – a handful of change for instance – the cabin would eat it. It was like existing in your own Bermuda triangle.
The power options amounted to a rear demister that was just slightly better than doing nothing at all and a ‘Pressmatic Deluxe’ radio with chunky black preset buttons. The heater worked well enough, although using it to demist the windscreen was another matter. I’m sure fellow Kingswood owners will recall wiping the arm of their jumper across the glass so they could see where they were going. Another quirk was the high-beam, which was not on the instrument panel as you might expect, but on the floor near your left foot.
Oh, and the side mirror. First, there was only one of them. Secondly – and I don’t know if this was unique to my car – the mirror would flop down until it was resting on the door. There were three screws that were supposed to hold it in place, but nothing I did would keep that mirror upright.
The car looked good – no doubt about it. Cars in the ’70s had style. But what I remember most is the overheating and the foggy windows and the sluggish acceleration and the leaky boot. Holden Kingswood: style yes, driving pleasure no.
Engine: 3.3-litre
Weight: 1255kg
This was my grandfather’s last car; it stayed in his garage long after he had to surrender his licence due to poor eyesight and only went to the wreckers earlier this year. I can still remember the first time I drove it – the above Kingswood was at the mechanic trying to have its overheating problem solved.
While the Commodore was only 100kg lighter than the Kingswood, it felt like 500kg. It took a while to warm up, as all cars did then, but when you put your foot down you actually went places. The labouring disappeared also, the Commodore able to take hills in its stride and overtake with confidence on freeways. It was a quieter ride, too – being in the Kingswood was like being trapped inside a metal drum; the Commodore provided some respite from the elements. In fact, I’ll go out on a limb and say it was not as loud or clunky as some early ’90s Commodores.
The steering was still on the heavy side, but the handling was another revelation. Compared to the Kingswood, which rolled like an ocean liner and had a tendency to fishtail in the wet, the Commodore seemed to hug the road.
The high-beam had made its way onto the instrument panel and the rear demisted actually demisted things. Not everything was an improvement – the armrest all but disappeared (it was useless as both an armrest and as a storage compartment), the boot was somewhat smaller, and the grip on the window winder was about the size and thickness of a twenty-cent piece. This last facet might not have been a problem, except the windows were as stiff as a starched collar and almost impossible for young kids to operate. Although as an adult, I can see the benefit in that…
In retrospect, it’s not hard to see why the Commodore’s popularity soared. It took the Kingswood and compacted it down until the engineering met those eternal motoring needs: performance, efficiency and comfort.
Engine: 3.6-litre four-speed V6
Weight: 1690kg
Sitting in a VE Commodore compared to the VB is like being at the helm of a spaceship. ‘Sophistication’ is the first word that comes to mind – everything is electronic, digital, computerised. The VB’s dashboard, so attractive compared to the primitive HJ, now looks primitive itself. In particular, I think of the ‘economy’ gauge – which actually ran off the manifold vacuum – and laugh.
Quality is the second thing you notice. Everything from the plastic trim, to the paint to the steering wheel is made from superior materials. It leads me to consider the state my grandfather’s VB was in when it finally went to the wrecker: crazed dashboard, full of rust, breaking down more often than not. No doubt in 2038 the VE will show its age too, but it’s hard to believe the deterioration will be anywhere near as severe.
In standard features, there’s no comparison. Power steering was an optional extra on the VB, the VE has that as standard plus power windows, central locking, electronically adjustable seats, airbags and who knows how many other marvels we now take for granted.
When I take off, the VE certainly has superior performance but I’m surprised: considering its 79kW and technology deficits, the VB can still hold its head high. I talk to a colleague about it later and he suggests the real differences lie in the handling and safety. In particular, he mentions the first time he drove an old Commodore after years of modern cars and found himself having to brake suddenly. Accustomed to ABS, he planted his foot, went into a huge skid and almost came to grief.
The prevailing sense I take away is one of comfort. Today’s Commodore is larger, more ergonomic, quieter and safer. It’s softer I suppose you’d say – which is perhaps what those Classic not plastic stickers are referring to. Each to their own; I can deal with a little softness.
The VB Commodore was a good car for its time and so is the VE. Let’s hope the next model continues its proud tradition.
Open Road e-zine December 2008
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