1986 Pontic Fiero 2m6 - Great Driver, Low Original Mileage! on 2040-cars

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Automakers tussle over owners of 'orphan' makes

When General Motors put down several of its brands in recent years, it also let loose thousands of brand-loyal customers who will eventually need another car.
R.L. Polk Associates estimates there are more than 18 million cars from 16 discontinued makes on the road today. Those "orphan owners" have sales-hungry competitors seeing dollar signs. GM is offering Saturn owners $1,000 cash toward a Chevy Cruze, Cadillac CTS or a GMC Acadia. Ford is giving its Mercury lease customers a chance to get out of their contracts with no early-termination penalty and offering to waive six remaining payments if they drive off in a Ford or Lincoln.
Edmunds.com research shows the efforts are paying off somewhat for GM, with 39 percent of Pontiac owners, 37 percent of Hummer owners and 31 percent of Saturn owners taking delivery of another GM-branded vehicle. But that leaves as much as 69 percent of owners going elsewhere. Ford, Honda and Toyota seem to be attracting many former GM owners.

Want to buy a worst-in-show-winning Faux Ferrari Fiero?

UPDATE: This heap sold for $5,001. But don't fret, there are more terrible cars out there for the taking if that's your thing. Today we bring you something truly terrible. It's not just a fake Ferrari built on the guts of an old Pontiac Fiero, it's actually the world's worst fake Ferrari built on the guts of an old Pontiac Fiero. And it's got the award from the Concours d'Lemons to prove it. It's so heinous, in fact, that it has somehow managed to become desirable, at least judging by the bidding history of this bright red affront to Maranello. Powered by a 140-horsepower 2.8-liter V6 engine (covered by an unconvincing and broken fake V12 cover) hooked to an automatic gearbox, this gloriously poor Prancing Horse won't be winning many stoplight drag races. There are bundles of stray wires hanging down from the dashboard, it has high mileage, most of its lights don't work, and it's ugly. Like, really ugly. And to top it off, this Fauxrarri can't currently be registered in its home state of California because it has failed its most recent smog test. Put simply, you're looking at a total piece of junk. But a piece of junk with internet notoriety, having been featured on an episode of Jay Leno's Garage after attending the 2019 Quail Motorsports Gathering — by mistake at first, and then earning a special place next to the porta potties — being the focus of a video series on YouTube and winning the aforementioned ribbon for Worst in Show at Lemons. Somehow, bidding has topped $4,000 at the time of this writing. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. If you want to earn the ire of your neighbors — and to be clear, we really wouldn't recommend it — click on over to Cars & Bids to view the auction. There are four days left to hit the "bid" button. Consider yourself warned. 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.