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Junkyard Gem: 1986 Pontiac Sunbird Sedan

The J-Body platform was a giant seller for GM, staying in production from the first 1981 Chevrolet Cavalier all the way through that final 2005 Pontiac Sunfire. Outside of North America, Opels and Daewoos and Isuzus and Holdens and Vauxhalls and even Toyotas flew the J flag, and better than ten million rolled out of showrooms during that quarter-century. In the United States, Chevrolet, Oldsmobile, Pontiac, Buick, and Cadillac each sold J-Bodies. Of those, the Pontiac Sunbird often had the sportiest image, more cavalier than even the Cavalier Z24. I've documented a discarded Sunbird Turbo in the past, and now here's a bread-and-butter Sunbird sedan from the same era. The Sunbird name began its life in 1976 on the Pontiac-badged version of the rear-wheel-drive Buick Skyhawk, itself based on the Chevy Vega. The first J-Body Pontiacs had J2000 badges, then 2000 badges, then 2000 Sunbird badges, until finally the pure non-2000 Sunbird appeared for the 1985 model year. I remain disappointed that the 2000 name didn't survive into our current century, because we could have had a 2000 Pontiac 2000, or just the "2000 2000" for short. The base engine in the '86 Sunbird was this SOHC 1.8-liter four of Brazilian origin, rated at 84 horsepower. Originally developed by Opel in the late 1970s, this engine family went into cars built all across the sprawling GM empire. 84 horsepower doesn't sound like much— and it wasn't much, even by 1986 standards— but at least the original buyer of this car had the smarts to get the five-speed manual transmission. This car weighed just 2,336 pounds, a good 500 pounds lighter than the current Chevy Sonic, so performance with the manual transmission was tolerable. The '86 Sunbird's interior was much nicer than those in its Cavalier siblings, though nowhere near the Cadillac Cimarron's reading on the Plush-O-Meter. An AM/FM/cassette stereo with auto reverse was serious audio hardware in a cheap car during the middle 1980s, when even a scratchy factory AM-only radio cost the equivalent of several hundred 2020 bucks. The price tag of this car started at $7,495, or about $17,500 in 2020 dollars. The cheapest possible Cavalier sedan went for $6,888 in 1986, but a zero-option base '86 Cavalier would make you think you'd been transported to the Soviet Union every time you slunk into its harsh confines. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings.

GM Design shows what could have been and what might be

We periodically like to check in with GM Design's Instagram account to see what they're cooking up. Even better is when we catch a glimpse of an alternate history of what legendary designers from The General's past were thinking, though those ideas may not have made it into production. This week, for example, the account posted some illustrations from George Camp, whose career at GM spanned nearly four decades, from 1963 to 2001. One of the renderings is of what appears to be a 1971-72 Pontiac GTO Judge, but with two headlights instead of the production unit's quad beams. The rear departs from the canonical version most dramatically, with a massive integrated wing. Other bits that didn't make the production cut include large side vents, a gill-like side marker and rectangular intakes below the headlights that wouldn't be out of place on a modern design today. Amazingly, from what we can make out of the date, it appears that the drawing was done sometime in 1965, which makes it quite prescient.           View this post on Instagram                       A post shared by GM Design (@generalmotorsdesign) There's also a very aerodynamic interpretation of a Corvette ZR-1. To our eyes it splits the difference between the 1986 Corvette Indy concept and a fourth-generation F-body Pontiac Firebird, so perhaps parts of Camp's work on this sketch did make it into physical form. There's also a radical sports car concept from May 1970 that resembles the Mazda RX-500 concept from the same year, a Syd Mead-looking Cadillac coupe, and an Oldsmobile with a cool take on the company's trademark waterfall grille and elements of the Colonnade Cutlass at the rear. Other recent posts include a FJ Cruiser-like off-road EV, a sleek coupe with the Chevy corporate grille, and a rendering of a Silverado-esque pickup that looks far better than the current production version.           View this post on Instagram                       A post shared by GM Design (@generalmotorsdesign) It's pretty easy to lose hours in the account, but it's always fascinating to see GM's visions of what could have been and what might be. Related Video:

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.