1967 Plymouth GTX Facts: Birth of a Muscle Car Icon

Picture this: you’re cruising down a sun-baked stretch of asphalt in 1967, and suddenly a GTX rolls past with that deep-throated rumble only a 440 can deliver. The blacked-out grille catches the light, those fiberglass scoops sitting proud on the hood, and you know you’re looking at something different. Plymouth didn’t ease into the supercar game; they jumped in with both feet, building a machine that made no apologies for what it was.

The Birth of a Supercar

1967 marked the debut of the Plymouth GTX as a completely new model. Plymouth wasn’t messing around with baby steps or half-measures. They planted their flag in muscle car territory and called it a “supercar” right out of the gate. While other manufacturers were still figuring out their performance identities, Plymouth built the GTX on the Belvedere chassis but transformed it into something that felt entirely separate from its corporate cousin.

The timing couldn’t have been more electric. The same year saw the Dodge Charger making waves, and suddenly Chrysler’s performance portfolio was stacked. But the GTX carved its own path, distinct from anything else wearing a Plymouth badge.

Rarity in Numbers

Only 12,115 GTX models rolled off the line that inaugural year. Think about that for a second. In an era when manufacturers were cranking out muscle cars by the tens of thousands, Plymouth kept the GTX relatively exclusive. You weren’t seeing one on every street corner, which only added to the mystique when you did spot one. These weren’t mass-market cruisers; they were statement cars for folks who knew exactly what they wanted.

Two Ways to Roll

Plymouth offered the GTX in two body configurations: a 2-door hardtop and a convertible. The convertible wasn’t some stripped-down compromise either. It came with proper glass rear windows, not the cheap plastic stuff some manufacturers were using. You could drop the top and still have visibility that didn’t turn into a hazy mess after a few months in the sun. The hardtop had that clean, uninterrupted roofline that muscle car purists loved, while the convertible gave you that wind-in-your-hair experience without sacrificing the GTX’s aggressive stance.

The Standard Hammer: 440 Super Commando

Here’s where Plymouth made a statement that still echoes today: the 440 CID V-8 “Super Commando” wasn’t optional, it was standard. You couldn’t get a GTX with some wheezy small-block. Every single one left the factory with 375 horses under the hood. That 440 displaced exactly what its name promised, built with a 4.3-inch bore and 3.8-inch stroke that delivered torque in waves. Peak power hit at 4,600 RPM, which meant this wasn’t some high-strung screamer. It made 480 lb-ft of torque, the kind of grunt that pressed you back into the seat when you stomped it.

The engine breathed through either a Holley R-3279-1A carburetor if you went manual or an R-3280-1A for automatic transmission cars, with California getting its own variants to meet emissions standards that were already creeping into the picture. Plymouth spec’d hydraulic valve lifters on the 440, which meant less maintenance headache and more time actually driving the thing. The compression ratio sat at 9.2:1, high enough to demand premium fuel but not so extreme that the engine ate itself after 50,000 miles.

The Nuclear Option: 426 Hemi

If the 440 wasn’t enough, Plymouth offered the 426 cubic-inch Hemi V-8 pumping out 425 horsepower and 490 lb-ft of torque. This wasn’t just a bigger engine; it was a completely different animal. The Hemi ran mechanical valve lifters with aggressive cam timing—276 degrees on both intake and exhaust. It fed through Carter AFB four-barrel carburetors, model AFB-4328S for manual transmissions and AFB-4329S for automatics.

The performance gap between the two engines was massive. While the 440-equipped GTX hit 60 mph in 6.5 seconds and ran the quarter in 15.2 at 97 mph, the Hemi version absolutely demolished those numbers. We’re talking 4.8 seconds to 60 and a 13.5-second quarter-mile at 105 mph. That’s not just an improvement; that’s entering a different performance category altogether. The Hemi option turned the GTX from a seriously quick car into something that could hang with purpose-built drag cars at the local strip.

No Compromises on Power

Plymouth made an interesting choice with the GTX: these were the only two engine options available. No base 318, no mild-mannered 383 for folks who wanted the look without the performance. You got serious power or you bought a different car. This wasn’t a muscle car you could option down into respectability for your insurance agent. Every GTX meant business from day one.

Sending Power to the Pavement

Behind those big-block mills, buyers chose between a 4-speed manual or the 3-speed TorqueFlite automatic. The manual let you row your own gears and feel every shift, keeping RPMs right where the torque curve got thick. The TorqueFlite, though, wasn’t some slushbox that killed performance. Chrysler’s automatics were legendary for their durability and how quickly they shifted when you mashed the throttle. Plenty of drag racers actually preferred the TorqueFlite because it was bulletproof and consistent.

Visual Intimidation

The GTX didn’t sneak up on anyone. That blacked-out front grille announced intentions before you even heard the exhaust note. Where other Belvederes wore chrome, the GTX went dark and aggressive. Those fiberglass hood scoops weren’t functional on the base cars, but they looked purposeful enough that nobody questioned them. You could add racing stripes if you wanted to push the visual drama even further.

The chrome pop-open fuel filler cap was a nice touch, something you noticed when you walked up to the car. It suggested attention to detail, like Plymouth actually cared about making the GTX feel special rather than just bolting a big engine into an existing platform. The rear fascia got special treatment too, differentiating the GTX from regular Belvederes even if someone only caught a glimpse as you pulled away.

Interior Intentions

Inside, Plymouth mounted a tachometer right on the center console where it was impossible to ignore. This wasn’t some afterthought gauge tucked into the corner of the dash. It sat front and center, reminding you that this car cared about engine speed and performance. The placement meant you could keep an eye on RPMs without taking your attention completely off the road, crucial when you were trying to hit perfect shift points.

Built to Handle the Power

Heavy-duty suspension came standard on every GTX. Plymouth knew exactly what these cars would be doing, and they engineered them accordingly. The beefed-up components meant the GTX could handle its own power output without turning into a wallowing boat the moment you pushed it through a corner or launched hard off the line. This was the kind of practical engineering that separated real performance cars from pretenders—building the whole package to work together rather than just stuffing in an engine and hoping for the best.

The GTX represented Plymouth’s no-compromise approach to the muscle car phenomenon. While other manufacturers were still figuring out whether performance cars needed to be civilized, Plymouth built something that made its intentions clear the moment you saw it. That 440 rumbled at idle, those scoops caught every eye, and when you needed to move, 375 horsepower was always waiting. For the truly committed, the Hemi turned intensity up to levels that bordered on irrational, transforming quarter-mile times into something that demanded respect at any stoplight. These weren’t cars you bought to impress neighbors or cruise to the grocery store. They were purpose-built machines that happened to be street legal, and that first-year production run of just over 12,000 units meant owning one put you in relatively exclusive company.