The Complete History of the Original Plastic Car
© John Roman
At one point or another, everyone has entertained the thought, “I can do that,” but back in 1965, Pat Amendolia actually did. A plastics manufacturer, an avid fan of cars, and - most importantly - an inventor, Pat wanted to call together his passions and create a car completely made from plastic. It would serve to show the world the viability of the medium as a fundamental structure for the automobile, demonstrating its strength, safety and malleability. There could be a plastic car parked in every driveway in America, then maybe the world. If he could do it, Pat, his car, and his ideas could stand the test of time: physically and in the hearts and minds of motorists everywhere.
The plan for the car derived, naturally, from ice cream cones. Pat's initial foray into plastics as a young man in his 20's came when got involved with building model ice cream cones to serve as decorative displays for local businesses. This work introduced him to the functional properties of plastic construction, planting the seed for what would become a strong affinity for the material. At that time, go-karts and Quarter Midget race cars were beginning to take off, and Pat saw this as an opportunity to evolve his work. At the drawing board, he began sketching, molding and making plastic model cars. As the pieces came together, he was finding his footing and finding success, but this wasn't where he set his goalposts. Time went on and Pat's ventures firmly entrenched him in the world of plastics manufacturing, but, even for the time, it was a tough, gritty and taxing line of work; pair this with the fact that, at the end of the day, Pat viewed himself as an inventor, it became clear that he had his eyes on something bigger. He grabbed a few marble notebooks, and armed with some pens and a head full of ideas, he went to work.
A look through his notes shows that the next chapter in this story started at a blistering pace. Immediately, as if it was already fully formed in his mind, Pat had a concept design for his car. The man had a clear and present mission statement and a benchmark to shoot for, but at the end of the day, it was still just ink and paper. In order to start making it a reality, he needed to start working on establishing the foundation. And being as that he wasn't working with something like Ford's R&D department, he needed to get his hands dirty. This meant sneaking away to the commuter cars parked near his shop to take measurements – eventually settling on the power plant, drivetrain and suspension out of a late '50's Chevy. With that out of the way and determined not to borrow additionally from any existing cars, Pat needed to work with what he had – designs, ingenuity and plastic. His manufacturing shop was based next to an old railway yard, a location which served as a pseudo testing ground for his ideas and, at times, resources for his build. The blueprint called for outside-of-the-box designs, the repurposing of miscellaneous parts, and concocting engineering fixes that could only have been mothered by necessity, checking off what worked and what didn't as he went. Mold by mold and layer by layer, Pat's vision took shape, and by the summer of '66, the TDX was born.
© John Roman
Though the car was on four wheels, the mission was not yet complete. On the contrary, now that it was moving, it was time for it to serve its primary function – to spread the gospel of plastics. People needed to see the designs in the flesh to garner the support needed for the next steps. The TDX quickly became the conduit for Pat's ideas: lightweight plastic, panoramic visibility, seamless structure front and rear bumpers, rocket-power brake-assist (this didn't make the final cut), etc. As he used it to drive 100 miles back and forth from work, the dream of leaving behind the grime of manufacturing was moving closer and closer, and the TDX was looking less like an exhibition and more like the genuine article. It was nearing time to shake off the moniker of TDX and become what it was meant to be - the Da Vinci. The name perhaps equal parts a nod to the car's roots in Italian styling and to the creator's unquestionable admiration for the world's most famous inventor. The plan was to shift his current business ventures in order to mass produce the car full time – solidifying the Da Vinci as the pioneer of commercial plastic car design and taking its place on the automotive pantheon.
Unfortunately, as many reading could likely surmise, that next step would prove too great – Pat's mind may have been on par with Leonardo da Vinci but his means were nowhere near that of Enzo Ferrari. When it came time to choose between a new house for his growing family, a steady paycheck, and a safer future, plans shifted in a different direction. The TDX would never be spoken about in the same vein as the Corvette or the E-Type Jaguar. It didn't get its day in the sun - instead it was wrapped up, moved out and put into the woods – where it would stay for 30 years.
They say time heals all wounds – this is not true for cars. Many have met their ends laying dormant with mother nature for company, but fortunately the TDX had a life line. While the dreams of Da Vinci may never have reached the stage where it could capture the hearts and minds of the public, the TDX still managed to capture the heart and mind of at least one: Joe Amendolia, Pat's son. As a boy he watched as the car was built. On trips to his father's shop he would marvel at the car, suspended upside down while fiberglass was applied. Day by day and layer by layer, he watched as it took shape. Once road ready, Pat would drop Joe off at high school in the TDX – its story and Joe's dad's work, permeating into the minds of Joe and his peers. Organically, the car was making its mark – not as a prototype for something greater but as a real thing, a real car. So when the fires cooled on making the da Vinci a reality and the TDX was tucked away, the embers that remained in Joe never died out – they patiently pulsed with a lingering heat as hot as the fire that created them. Finally, decades later, on Pat's 89th birthday he gave Joe his blessing to light the fires once again and restore the TDX.
© John Roman
Under new stewardship and with a renewed focus, the TDX needed to be finished – deserved to be finished. Literally brought in from the woods, Joe's first task was to take stock of where the car was at and then attempt to bring back its pulse. The original motor was an anticipated write-off and any exposed metal would have degraded past function long ago, but the plastic remained. As if a planned proof of concept, Pat's assertion regarding the strength of plastic bore out – from the structure, to the wrapped components, all the way down to the exhaust hanger that long outlived the exhaust it held – the plastic stood the test of time. The revelations continued to come as Joe continued to explore the car after its hibernation. When he had the car inspected by a coach builder the verdict was more of the same – while the seasons had taken their best shot, outside of a weathered patina, the car was good, things were where they should be, it was done right. All of this just helped confirm, for Joe, one thing – the TDX was a real car and deserved to be one.
With his knowledge of the TDX, at this stage, on par with that of his father's, the main difference between the two regarding the car came down to mindset. Joe is restoring a beloved classic from the past, Pat was a designer building up a concept for the future. Free to focus only on making the TDX the best it can be, the road to restoration was ready to get underway. Joe fit the car with a 66' Chevelle engine, a heart date coded to when the TDX was built – he replaced the seats with 65' Mustang seats, period correct – and he fit a 4-Speed transmission, which was something Pat agreed the car should have had when he was first building it. There was only one step left to solidify the car's return and set the table for its continued restoration and future, something to get it out of the woods for good and to stake its claim. Pat Amendolia passed away at the enviable age of 91 years old, but not before he saw Joe get the car registered with the Motor Vehicle Department. Now, no longer a homemade custom but a recognized vehicle with a production number, one of one, the 1966 TDX.
What started as a project designed to showcase the legitimacy of plastic car manufacturing turned out, instead, to be a showcase in how a person's drive and ambition can leave a lasting legacy capable of inspiring and encouraging untold numbers of people with no end in sight. It's impossible to go through life documenting and annotating the lessons learned and where we learned them from, so by his own admission, Joe takes comfort in having the TDX as a tangible reminder of his father's life, his designs and his dreams. Legacies can often be predestined to be left unpolished and unfinished but the good ones inspire those to pick up where they left off. The da Vinci may have never been but the TDX is.
Words by Peter Yacovacci