1978 Pontiac Bonneville 2dr Coupe With 96 Lt1 350 Motor And Matching Auto Trans on 2040-cars

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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.

Here are a few of our automotive guilty pleasures

It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway. The world is full of cars, and just about as many of them are bad as are good. It's pretty easy to pick which fall into each category after giving them a thorough walkaround and, more important, driving them. But every once in a while, an automobile straddles the line somehow between good and bad — it may be hideously overpriced and therefore a marketplace failure, it may be stupid quick in a straight line but handles like a drunken noodle, or it may have an interior that looks like it was made of a mess of injection-molded Legos. Heck, maybe all three. Yet there's something special about some bad cars that actually makes them likable. The idea for this list came to me while I was browsing classified ads for cars within a few hundred miles of my house. I ran across a few oddballs and shared them with the rest of the team in our online chat room. It turns out several of us have a few automotive guilty pleasures that we're willing to admit to. We'll call a few of 'em out here. Feel free to share some of your own in the comments below. Dodge Neon SRT4 and Caliber SRT4: The Neon was a passably good and plucky little city car when it debuted for the 1995 model year. The Caliber, which replaced the aging Neon and sought to replace its friendly marketing campaign with something more sinister, was panned from the very outset for its cheap interior furnishings, but at least offered some decent utility with its hatchback shape. What the two little front-wheel-drive Dodge models have in common are their rip-roarin' SRT variants, each powered by turbocharged 2.4-liter four-cylinder engines. Known for their propensity to light up their front tires under hard acceleration, the duo were legitimately quick and fun to drive with a fantastic turbo whoosh that called to mind the early days of turbo technology. — Consumer Editor Jeremy Korzeniewski  Chevrolet HHR SS: Chevy's HHR SS came out early in my automotive journalism career, and I have fond memories of the press launch (and having dinner with Bob Lutz) that included plenty of tire-smoking hard launches and demonstrations of the manual transmission's no-lift shift feature. The 260-horsepower turbocharged four-cylinder was and still is a spunky little engine that makes the retro-inspired HHR a fun little hot rod that works quite well as a fun little daily driver.

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.