60s Flashback — It’s A Car! It’s A Boat! It’s … Both?
By Randal Hill
Guest Columnist
Editor’s Note: Randal C. Hill, Brandon, Ore., is a retired English teacher with a master’s degree. While attending college in Long Beach, Calif., he worked as a DJ at two radio stations. Later, he taught language arts at Fairvalley High School in Covina, Calif., where he offered “The Rock and Roll Years,” an elective fine arts class that featured invited guest speakers: Jan and Dean Bobby Vee, Freddy Cannon, to name a few. He has extensive writing credits including the first three editions of the House of Collectibles’ The Official Price Gide to Collectible Rock Records, which was reviewed on NBC’s Today show. He has done numerous personality profiles of rock and pop artists for the record-collector magazine Goldmine.
The burly Texan was known to be a practical joker, and one favorite trick of his was to startle first-time visitors to his ranch.
During a high-speed tour of the vast grounds in his sporty (but somewhat odd-looking) convertible, he would sometimes end up zooming toward his private lake, suddenly shouting that his brakes weren’t working. The prankster then hurtled down a ramp and splashed into the lake. But instead of sinking, the car slowed and — huh? — became a leisurely moving boat.
The aghast visitors had been riding in an Amphicar.
It was conceived during World War II as a Nazi military vessel called the Volkswagen Schwimmwagen. Later, the Amphicar (a blending of “amphibious” and “car”) became a civilian novelty as a vehicle that saw use both on the highway and in the water.
It featured a body length of 15.5 feet and a weight of 1,738 pounds. Manufactured in West Germany from 1961 to 1968, it cost the equivalent of a new Jaguar E-Type with its price tag of $2,800. Fewer than 4,000 rear-engine Amphicars rolled off the assembly line, and to this day they remain the only amphibious passenger conveyances to be mass produced. Each 43-horsepower machine was a convertible and was available in four basic colors — white, red, blue or green. Ninety percent of the buyers were American.
Initially there was a rush of interest and excitement for it. Newly established dealers proclaimed the Amphicar a must-have pleasure item. Modern Mechanix magazine enthused that “it does everything but fly!” The New Yorker and Newsday ran photos and features on it. The Amphicar was even offered as a specialty vehicle for Red Cross emergency rescue services.
As the ‘60s drew to a close, the novelty of the craft began to wear thin. For one thing, the marketing concept had always been unclear. (Was it a car or was it a boat?) But other issues also muddied the sales waters. The craft proved to be a high-maintenance item; after every five hours in the water, the Amphicar’s engine needed to be greased — a laborious task that involved lifting the entire vehicle and removing the rear seats. Also, each ocean use required cleansing afterward with fresh water.
The American government drove the final nail into the Amphicar coffin. In 1968, the establishment of the EPA brought emissions and safety regulations that the little oddball auto/boat simply couldn’t meet.
But not all Amphicars ended up on the scrapheap. About 600 still exist, and some of those — now restored and brought up to required standards — can be rented at such vacation destinations as Disney Springs in Orlando, Fla., and Branson Landing in Missouri.
In Ohio, there’s an International Amphicar Owners Club, which boasts about 400 members.
Today, to own a restored one will set you back about $100,000.
By the way, that Texas prankster who got a chuckle out of frightening his unsuspecting visitors? That was none other than Lyndon Baines Johnson, the 36th President of the United States