Holden Monaro GTS 1976 Review

That certain something
The HJ-series Monaro GTS mightn’t have the cache of the ‘Bathurst’ HK/G/T-series of the late 1960s, and it certainly doesn’t have anything like the power of the 350ci Chevrolet-powered HQ-series. But it was a model that introduced a number of firsts to Holden’s range, and one that for as long as I can remember held ‘that certain something’.

This is my car. It’s older than me (just) and I’ve owned it for half of my life. I’m pleased to say it still means as much to me now as it did 20 years ago. I’d always wanted one, and against my father’s better judgement purchased the GTS as a replacement for my ‘newer’ VC-series Commodore L in early 1996.

It didn’t have the sunroof, the air-conditioning or the cloth seats I’d come to miss in my trusty 1981 Commodore. But it did have a V8, a muscular soundtrack and the handling of a tinny adrift in floodwater. I was a slight kid with a heavy right foot. The GTS had a live rear axle and non-assisted recirculating ball steering with a 16:1 ratio. It was a compelling partnership.

But we’ve been together through thick and thin. Club racing, car shows, laps of Historic Winton with the late, great Peter Brock, attempted thefts, painful late-night repairs in uncomfortably cold places, pleasurable late-night rendezvous in uncomfortably cold places… If the GTS were to one day be my Best Man, I’m sure the stories would be as colourful as that Mandarin Red paint.

A lesson in what not to do
One of 4754 HJ-series Monaros built, my GTS has the smaller of two V8 engines offered. The 4.2-litre (253ci) unit makes just 138kW/355Nm, loves a drink and, for a pushrod, cast iron mongrel, a bit of a rev. It’s matched to a four-speed manual unit that doesn’t offer overdrive (fourth gear is 1:1) and a Salisbury 3.36:1 diff. Highway cruising is less than efficient (thank you 72-litre fuel tank), but it gets to 100km/h pretty briskly.

The HJ pre-dates Holden’s Radial Tuned Suspension (introduced with the HZ-series a few years after my car was built), so the double wishbone (front) / four-link (rear) all-coil arrangement takes a little work to make perform. I added stabilisers from a Victoria Police-spec donor, Nolathane bushings, adjustable shockers and 15-inch Rally Wheels from a Pontiac GTO. The combination works well. The ‘power assisted’ 276mm disc (front) / 254mm drum (rear) brakes do not.

Still, it afforded me the opportunity to experience what it was like to stop using someone else’s brakes – and check out the ‘better crash protection and reduced repair costs’ offered by the HJ’s larger ‘extra-strength’ chrome bumpers – and the whiplash protection of the ‘full foam seats with integrated head restraints’. The GTS helped me become a better driver. It’s a great car for learning what not to do on the road.

I think part of the HJ’s charm is its lack of creature comforts. I mean a heater and a power antenna are all well and good, but without the sat-nav-touchscreen-Bluetooth-head-up-display-climate-air-baggery of modern cars there’s more time to enjoy the drive, and hone those all-important early skills.

Twirling that three-spoke GTS wheel as you face the wrong-way at on-coming traffic is one of life’s great lessons, right up there with trying (hard) to determine why GMH engineers ever bothered calibrating the speedometer to 220km/h (it never got there).

It’s often thought of as a big car, but it’s not as long (-26mm to 4839mm) or as heavy (-168kg to 1442kg) as a current-day Holden Malibu. That aside I still reckon the HJ offered decent packaging. Four Hard Yakka-wearing, VB-drinking blokes have fit inside at the same time, as has a full set of spare wheels and tyres, a toolbox and luggage in the boot.

What’s more, you can still see out of it, even when it’s packed-tight with your rowdy, bogan mates. Try saying that about a Malibu!

It’s a car I’ve loved from the beginning, and one that makes me smile in spite of – or perhaps because of – its many dynamic compromises.

Compared to modern cars it’s impossible to rate the HJ (though I had an honest crack). Thankfully time and know-how have improved cars a lot, but I can’t say there are too many that draw the same number of comments, smiles and thumbs-up as my old GTS.

And if that doesn’t count for something in the experience of owning a car, then perhaps we’re all missing out.

1976 Holden Monaro GTS