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This massive 'Knight Rider' KITT model costs over $1,400

A new model of the famed Pontiac Firebird from the 1980s TV show Knight Rider is here, and it's massive. The shadowy flight into the dangerous world of this subscription-based kit by DeAgostini will result in a car that measures nearly two feet long, cost more than $1,400, and take you over two years to complete. For years, subscription-based model kits have been a tradition for hobbyists in Europe and Asia. Should you sign on, each week you'll receive a package in the mail that includes a few parts for the model and some literature on the subject. Usually there are additional collectibles and accessories, like a display case. The DeAgostini KITT kit, for example, begins with the hood for the first issue. The asymmetric bulged and scooped body panel comes with a several smaller body pieces and a small screwdriver. Issue two comes with the front fascia, KITT's red scanner light, and three of the six driving lights. Issue three gives you a tire, wheel and brake components for one of the four corners. And so it goes. When all is said and done, you'll receive 110 such packages over a span of so many weeks. In other words it'll take two years and one-and-a-half months to complete the black, 1:8 scale Pontiac. There are some discounted prices for the first few issues to get you hooked, but once you get settled in the regular price for each issue is ˆ10.99 ($13.36 USD). Here's a preview the 16-page pamphlet that accompanies the first issue. By the end, you should have a pretty comprehensive compendium of the Knight Rider series as well. The issues are available on newsstands, but subscribers get additional gifts — two 1:43 scale models, one of KITT and one of his nemesis KARR. And for an additional ˆ1.00 per issue, you'll receive an acrylic display case. As for the Knight Industries Two Thousand itself, the car appears to be incredibly detailed. As depicted on the DeAgostini website, the hood, doors, trunk and T-top roof panels all open. The red scanner lights up, the rear license plate rotates for three options, and there even seems to be a watch that commands the model to speak some of KITT's catch phrases. Knight Rider — or Supercar as it was called in Italy — told the episodic story of a former police officer, Michael Knight, who fought crime with his A.I.-powered car. As such, the TV car and the the model have a heavily computerized (by 1980s standards) dashboard and yoke steering wheel.

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.

Looking Back At Oprah's Free-Car Giveaway 10 Years Later

Molly Vielweber's Pontiac G6 appears unremarkable at first glance. It wears forest green paint, rolls on five-spoke aluminum wheels, and it has a sizeable scrape in the driver's side door, the scar of a decade's worth of hard use. You wouldn't notice it parked at a big box store or cruising on the highway. Pontiac made hundreds of thousands of G6s in the 2000s, and a lot are still on the road. It's unremarkable in every way except for the front license plate, which reads, "Oprah 6." But this is not just any G6. This car is a part of television history. Vielweber won her G6 10 years ago at a taping of The Oprah Winfrey Show, when Oprah kicked off her 19th season in dramatic fashion by giving all 276 members of the studio audience a free car. It was an unprecedented stunt that changed lives, generated controversy and ultimately failed to provide enough of a marketing lift for Pontiac, which would be shuttered just over five years later. September 13 marks the 10-year anniversary of the memorable event, which caught everyone, including audience members, by surprise. In a masterful display of showmanship, Oprah dialed up the suspense to match the enormity – and cost – of the event. First she gave away 11 cars, which would have been a landmark TV promotion by itself. But then she coyly announced: "I've got a little twist." Models circulated throughout the audience carrying silver platters loaded with white boxes wrapped in red ribbon. One contained a set of keys, Oprah implied, for another audience member to win the final car. "Do not open it. Do not shake it," she commanded the crowd. Finally, with the suspense built to a fevered pitch, everyone opened their box. They all had keys. "You get a car! You get a car! You get a car! You get a car! Everybody gets a car!" Oprah exclaimed. "Everybody gets a car! Everybody gets a car!" This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Everybody did get a car. But not everyone kept it. William Toebe attended the show with his wife, Jillaine, and he immediately thought of the tax implications, which stretched to $6,000 or more for some audience members. It was a tough reality for many in the audience that day, some of which had been selected based on their need for a new car. "That responsible part of me stepped forward and wondered 'where am I going to get the money to pay the taxes?'" he recalled.