1996 Pontiac Bonneville Ssei Sedan 4-door 3.8l on 2040-cars

Auto blog

Junkyard Gem: 1988 Pontiac 6000 LE Safari Wagon

The Detroit station wagon was fast losing sales to minivans and trucks as the decade of the 1980s progressed, but Pontiac shoppers still had plenty of choices as late as the 1988 model year. A visit to a Pontiac dealership in 1988 would have presented you with three sizes of wagon, from the little Sunbird through the midsize 6000 and up to the mighty Parisienne-based Safari. Today's Junkyard Gem is a luxed-up 6000 LE, complete with "wood" paneling, found in a car graveyard in Fargo, North Dakota. Confusingly, the "Safari" name in 1988 was used by Pontiac to designate both a specific model — the wagon version of the Parisienne/Bonneville— and as the traditional Pontiac designation for a station wagon. That meant that the wagon we're looking at now was a Safari but not the Safari in the 1988 Pontiac universe. The 6000 lived on the GM A-Body platform, as the Pontiac-badged version of the Chevrolet Celebrity. Production ran from the 1982 through 1991 model years, with the A-Body Buick Century surviving all the way through 1996. The LE trim level came between the base 6000 and the gloriously complex 6000 STE (which wasn't available in wagon form, sadly). I visited this yard in Fargo after judging at the Minneapolis 500 24 Hours of Lemons in Brainerd, Minnesota, last fall. Up to that point, I had visited 47 of the Lower 48 United States, with just North Dakota remaining, so I made a point of doing a Fargo detour in order to check that state off my list. I'm pleased that I found such a good example of the 1982-1996 GM A-Body in this yard, because the most famous of all the A-Bodies is the 1987 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera driven to Brainerd by the inept Fargo-based kidnappers in the film "Fargo." This Minnesota-plated 6000 had some rust, but just negligible levels by Upper Midwestern standards on a 31-year-old car. The interior looked very good, with the original owner's manual still inside. The 6000 LE boasted "redesigned contoured seats and London/Empress fabric," which sounds pretty swanky. Something less swanky lives under the hood: an Iron Duke 2.5-liter pushrod four-cylinder engine, known as the Tech 4 by 1988. The Iron Duke was, at heart, one cylinder bank of the not-quite-renowned Pontiac 301-cubic-inch V8; while fairly rugged, the Duke ran rough (typical of large-displacement straight-four engines) and made just 98 horsepower in this application. Pontiac offered a couple of optional V6s in the 6000 in 1988, but no Quad 4.

There's a 'Knight Rider' movie in development

James Wan, who has directed films from the first "Saw" to "Aquaman," with "Furious 7" in between, and produced even more projects, is producing a new Knight Rider movie according to a report in Deadline. Just in case there's a reader who doesn't know, Knight Rider was one of the seminal trio of iconic-car shows from the 1980s, along with "The Dukes of Hazzard" and "Miami Vice." The series lasted 90 episodes that ran from 1982 to 1986, following the crime-fighting exploits of Michael Knight, a man who crusaded for justice after being shot in the face. Billionaire Walton Knight hired Michael to work with the Knight Foundation, where Michael helps develop the Knight Industries Two Thousand, a Pontiac Trans-Am with AI that can talk, drive more than 200 miles per hour, and could teach MI6's Q Branch about gadgetry. Collider described David Hasselhof's Michael Knight as "crimefighter by trade and wearing-a-leather-jacket-with-no-shirt-underneath innovator by hobby." The show made such an impression that there was a series spinoff called "Code of Justice," two TV movies in 1991 and 1994, a convention called KnightCon, and a series reboot on NBC that lasted for one season from 2008 to 2009, as well as stores full of action figures and models and literature, YouTube fan-made trailers and movies, and this wacky German-dubbed short "Knight Rider" film starring Hasselhoff. We don't know anything about the new movie's plot yet, other than that it's set in the present. T.J. Fixman, better known for now as a video game writer who worked on franchises like "Ratchet and Clank" and "Resistance: Fall of Man," has been attached to write, with a mandate to keep "the anti-establishment tone of the original." With matters still early in development there's no telling when the movie will hit theaters, and Wan's probably got his hands busy with the new MacGuyver reboot for CBS, anyway. Now that there's already been a Knight Industries 2000 and 3000, that gives us plenty of time to imagine — in a world where 200-mph hypercars powered by everything sprout like weeds and even Cannonballers are using military-like equipment — what would a Knight Industries Four Thousand possess? And would it be called KIFT? Related Video: This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings.

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.