1970 Pontiac Bonneville 455, 36k Original Miles, Survivor 2 Door Coupe on 2040-cars

Auto blog

Junkyard Gem: 1989 Pontiac Sunbird SE Coupe

General Motors built the fantastically successful J-Body cars starting at the dawn of the 1980s and continuing well into our current century, on five continents. The Pontiac Division's version of the J started out being called the J2000 and the 2000, then got the Sunbird name originally used on the Pontiac-ized Chevy Monza starting in 1983. Here's a once-slick-looking 1989 Sunbird SE Coupe, found at a Minneapolis-area boneyard way back in 2016. The best-known of all the J-Body cars, here, was the Chevrolet Cavalier, but Pontiac far outdid even the most blinged-up Cavalier Z24 when it came to elaborate taillights. Because this is Minnesota, the car is a patchwork of various layers of junkyard-obtained rusty body parts. One fender has TURBO badges from a Sunbird GT. The other side has the correct engine badges for this model. That engine is a 2.0-liter, single-overhead-cam straight-four from an engine family originally developed for the Opel Kadett D. This one was rated at 96 horsepower when new. This one has the automatic transmission, so it wouldn't have been very much fun to drive. Check out that cool parking brake handle, though! And, hey, is that a full can of Colorado Cool-Aid in the foot well? You'd think a proper Minnesota Pontiac would at least be full of Grain Belt cans. It appears that Higley Ford in Windom, Minn., had this car on the lot at some point. Windom is closer to Sioux Falls than to Minneapolis. This final mileage total looks good for a car living in Tinworm Country. Pontiac built this generation of Sunbird from the 1988 through 1994 model years, though it was really just a facelift of the first-generation cars. Starting in 1995, the Pontiac J-Body became the Sunfire, and production continued until the J platform itself got the axe in 2005. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. In the 90s, fun will become the exclusive province of the rich. To which the Sunbird driver replies, "Bullish!" Related Video: This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings.

Junkyard Gem: 2002 Pontiac Aztek

The General's Pontiac Division sold the Aztek for the 2001 through 2005 model years, and — despite enjoying something of a cultural rebirth in recent years — it is generally considered to be one of the worst cars of all time. The idea of using a minivan platform as the basis for a rough-and-tough-looking crossover with plenty of outdoor-lifestyle amenities wasn't the problem, since many vehicle manufacturers have printed bales of money using that formula. What doomed the Aztek was its hideous appearance and sticker price too lofty for its underemployed-at-the-time Generation X target demographic. Still, the Aztek proved to be perfectly suited for the outdoor activities that Coloradans love: hiking, camping, fishing, skiing, hauling mud-caked golden retrievers around, etc., and so you'll still find lots of Azteks on the roads of the Centennial State. Here's an Aztek Yellow Aztek (yes, that's really the paint color's official title) residing just a few rows from a '76 Checker Taxicab in a Denver self-service yard. Sure, it does look like a vehicle built to the specifications of a six-year-old who decreed a mashup between a Datsun F-10 and a Fisher-Price Little People Travel Together Airplane, but so what? There's a built-in air compressor to blow up your inflatable rafts and volleyballs, a tent attachment that turns the rear of the van into a camper, 12-volt power plugs all over the vehicle (years before this became commonplace on ordinary minivans and SUVs), and running-gear commonality with a jillion Ventures, Silhouettes, Montanas and Trans Sports. Buick managed to de-uglify the Aztek (somewhat) and sold it as the Rendezvous through 2007, but the Aztek never could win over many people with this face. I see plenty of Azteks and Rendezvouses in Denver-area wrecking yards, and I've documented a handful over the years. This one came fully loaded from the factory, with the Corvette-style heads-up display in full effect. The center console was a removable cooler, which was a great idea Â… except for the fact that this cooler holds five standard 12-ounce cans. Michigan residents tell me that this must have been intentional on the part of the Detroit-based Aztek designers, because Michiganders are expected to chug one beer out of a sixer as they walk from the liquor store to the car in the parking lot Â… which makes me extra cautious whenever I'm driving in the Wolverine State.

This junkyard '91 Grand Am is as hooptie as it gets

I spend a lot of time in junkyards. A lot of time. With all this experience, I have learned to recognize a perfect hooptie when I see one, a car whose final owner got every last bit of use out of it when its value was hovering right about at scrap value. This 1991 Pontiac Grand Am that I spotted in a San Francisco Bay Area self-service wrecking yard a few days ago, from the final model year for the third-generation Grand Am, checks all the hooptie boxes just right. First of all, it's a low-option coupe with the wretched and unloved GM Iron Duke engine, a rattly, gnashy, thrashy 2.5-liter four-cylinder kludged together using off-the-shelf parts from the Pontiac 301-cubic-inch V8 during the darkest years of the Malaise Era and used in cars whose buyers just didn't care. Most of the paint has been burned off by 25 years of harsh California sun, but the car spent sufficient time in a damp, shady spot for lichens to build up here and there. There are skeletons-with-sombreros stencils sprayed here and there, plus a big moonshine-guzzling skeleton mural painted on the hood. Goodbye, property values! Still, someone felt some affection for this car, giving it the name "Good Ol' Snakey" and painting that name on the decklid. We can assume that the Iron Duke was a bit loose by this time, probably leaving a serpentine trail of blue smoke behind the car at all times. So, the combination of cheapness, ugliness, menace, and who-gives-a-damn functionality make this Grand Am an excellent example of a pure hooptie. Within a couple of months, it will be crushed, shredded, shipped out of the Port of Oakland, and reborn in China as refrigerators and Geely Emgrands. Somewhere in Northern California, though, a few of Ol' Smokey's friends will remember this car fondly.