If you decide to restore a Mistral, forget the scuba gear and go find Alvin, the Titanic submersible. You will be that far under water
The cold wind that gave its name to Maserati’s 1964 Mistral spells the end of summer in the south of France. The model heralded an even colder and more inhospitable wind in the form of crippling taxes, fuel shortages, idiotic U.S. regulations, and the ignominy of ownership by Citroën that nearly spelled the end of Maserati itself.
But in an almost Machiavellian revenge, the Maserati V6 (which should have been a V8 anyway) in the SM coupe contributed to Citroën’s collapse and purchase by Peugeot when its cam-chain tensioners turned out to be as short-lived as an Italian government.
Before this operatic final act, there was a prolific period of creativity by the storied Modenese company that saw the creation of the Mexico, Ghibli, Sebring, Indy, and Mistral. Excellent cars, they have been largely overlooked by collectors-with the exception of the Ghibli (which cynics view as a Ferrari for which you can’t get spare parts).
Frua’s Mistral is smaller and more sporting than an Aston Martin DB4 or a Ferrari 250 GTE. It’s a pretty, airy, and practical body with a rear hatchback that is much more graceful than coach-built efforts on the larger 5000 GT chassis. All the right details are present: a fastback roofline, hood scoop, side vents, Borrani wire wheels, and just the right amount of chrome trim from a marque with a storied name and a serious competition pedigree.
As an aside, if you see something that looks like a huge Mistral that someone shoehorned a 428 Ford into, buy it. It’s a very rare AC 428. In possibly one of the shiftiest moves of all time, Frua sold nearly the same design to the moribund AC of England. Honestly, did they think no one would notice? (Of course, the wisdom of selling a 7-liter, 7-mpg car in 1968 England, when gas was already $1 a gallon, probably explains their rarity.)
Regardless of Frua’s shameless double-dealing, everything about the Mistral says high-dollar Latin exotic. Yet the best Mistral coupe on the planet would be hard pressed to break $45,000, and SCM rates the best Spyders at only $81,000. The answer to the value question is under the hood. Enthusiasts prefer Italian exotics with twelve, rather than six cylinders. What is perfectly okay in an Aston is dismissed in a Maserati.
Even the performance tends to be overlooked. This isn’t your run-of-the-mill six, but a twin-plug, DOHC unit directly descended from the 300S competition car. The black crackle-finish cam covers with the Maserati name and Trident look spectacular. About the only real knock against the powerplant is the fact that it was topped out. It had been stroked to the point that it was no longer free-revving and-perhaps an even greater sin for Italians-the exhaust note wouldn’t turn heads in the piazza. In any event, the Mistral was the swan song for the big Maserati six.
Perhaps as revenge for the AC 428 scam, the British got even. Think fuel injection, courtesy of Lucas, Prince of Darkness. It’s true: Folks who couldn’t make a generator last longer than the life of a fruit fly were dabbling with mechanical fuel injection. Perhaps they were smarting from WWII, when Germans piloting injected Daimler-Benz-powered Messerschmitts could elude British fighters through maneuvers that caused carbureted Rolls-Royce Merlins to quit.
It’s possible that Lucas petrol injection can be set up correctly by an experienced technician, but finding one in the U.S. is as likely as finding a competent alchemist. Mercifully, most Sebrings and Mistrals that I have seen have been converted to Webers. As I know neither an alchemist nor a competent Lucas PI guy, I would much prefer a carbureted car, even though the Maserati purists say a properly set-up injected car runs sweeter. If you’re absolutely determined to have fuel injection, find a mechanic in Vancouver or Toronto-Canada got fuel-injected Triumph TR5s, so there is some institutional memory and spare parts.
If the outside of a Mistral looks the part, so does the inside, with no fewer than seven gorgeous Smiths or Jaeger gauges, delightfully indecipherable rocker and toggle switches, some chrome trim, and a passenger grab handle. Unlike the Mexico, Sebring, and Indy, the Mistral makes no pretense about being anything more than a two-seater.
The short-wheelbase box-section chassis makes for a relatively light curb weight of about 2,800 lbs. With abundant torque and 240 hp from the 3.7-liter, and 250 hp from the 4.0-liter engine, contemporary road tests showed the Mistral to be very quick. Italian tests claimed 0-100 kph (0-62 mph) in 6.8 seconds. Even allowing for extraordinary abuse or national pride on the part of the testers, the Mistral compares favorably to the Lamborghini 400 GT and Ferrari 275 GTS and will show a clean pair of heels to a DB4 or DB5 for less than half the price.
On the road, the Mistral’s relatively small size and short wheelbase work in its favor. Nimble compared to other GTs of the era, it brakes and handles reasonably well, considering its pedestrian live axle and leaf-spring rear suspension. The ZF five-speed is pleasant enough, but Maserati also offered a three-speed automatic-a guaranteed deal-breaker today.
Like any other exotic, a Mistral can be frighteningly expensive to restore-without the Ferrari value light at the end of the tunnel. The box section chassis are prone to rust and vintage Maserati parts (when available) are ambitiously priced by a single source. Fragile items like trim and switchgear might as well be worn as jewelry. If you decide to restore a fright-pig Mistral, forget the scuba gear and go find Alvin, the Titanic submersible. You will be that far under water.
That said, there are misguided enthusiasts out there who, just as every SCMer has done with other marques, have ignored this advice and spent two to three times the value of these cars in restoring them. Obviously, those are the ones to buy.
Make sure your catch wears a set of Borrani knock- off wire wheels, or budget for the purchase of a set. More so than most cars, wire wheels really make the Mistral sing. Even the very pretty Spyder looks bland with alloys. Strangely, resale red is not the most complimentary color for a Mistral. Dark colors and light metallics like silver and ice blue emphasize their elegant lines.
The market’s lack of attention thus far can be attributed to the prevailing opinion that A-list Italian exotics must have a V12 (excepting the Dino 246). The Mistral’s later stablemate, the Ghibli, also represents a glass ceiling. The Ghibli is undervalued, and since it boasts a V8 and an even prettier body designed during Giugiaro’s stint with Ghia, you won’t see a $50,000 Mistral as long as a Ghibli can be had for that sum. When the Ghibli takes off (and recent activity suggests it might), the Mistral will probably appreciate to the Ghibli’s present level. Which is why I’m in the market for a Mistral now.