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Junkyard Gem: 1968 Pontiac Catalina sedan

During the late 1960s, General Motors ruled the American car landscape, growing so dominant that the federal government considered antitrust action to break up the company. The General offered sporty Corvettes and muscular GTOs and rugged pickups and opulent Fleetwoods, sure, but the fat part of the sales numbers came from the bread-and-butter full-sized sedans and coupes, which boasted superior engineering and modern-looking styling; in 1967 alone, the Chevrolet Division moved 972,600 full-sized cars, and that's not even counting the 155,100 full-sized Chevy station wagons that year. Pontiac, Buick and Oldsmobile sold the same big cars with division-specific engines and bodywork, and they flew off the showroom floors. For 1968, the entry-level full-sized car from Pontiac was the Catalina, and I've found an example of the most affordable version of the most affordable big Pontiac for 1968, discarded in a northeastern Colorado wrecking yard about 50 miles south of Cheyenne, Wyoming. A '68 GM full-sized coupe, convertible, or even a four-door hardtop might be worth the cost and effort of a restoration, but a no-options base-trim-level post sedan with rust and plenty of body filler just won't get many takers these days. Like so many vehicles that sit outside for decades on the High Plains, this one is full of rodent nests. I wouldn't want to work on the interior of this car without a respirator and a lot of work with a shop-vac, because hantavirus is a significant danger in these parts. Alfred Sloan's plan to offer a stepladder of prestige for GM buyers, in which your first new car was a Chevrolet and you moved up through Pontiac, Oldsmobile, and Buick until you became sufficiently prosperous for Cadillac ownership, worked brilliantly for decades. In 1968, the Catalina was a notch above its Impala sibling on the Snob-O-Meter, with the sedan starting at $3,004 (about $22,600 in 2019 dollars). In fact, the V8-equipped 1968 Chevrolet Impala sedan listed at $3,033, and the Oldsmobile Delmont 88 went for $3,146, so the lines were beginning to blur between the relative positions of the lower-end GM divisions by this time. The base engine in the 1968 Catalina was a 400-cubic-inch (6.5 liter) V8 rated at 265 horsepower and enough torque to tow an aircraft carrier.

Pontiac Aztek rises from the ashes of infamy in Firebird Trans Am guise

What if the Pontiac Aztek, one of the most widely ridiculed vehicles ever built, was reimagined with a little flair from one of the former brand’s more legendary cars? Well, it turns out that someone not only came up with that idea, but followed up on it. And so, we present to you the Pontiac Aztek Firebird Trans Am, uh, trim package? ItÂ’s not real, of course, but it comes from Abimelec Arellano, an Hermosillo, Mexico-based car designer with too much time on his hands who goes by the name Abimelec Design. Arellano redesigned the midsize SUVÂ’s wimpy front fascia to surprising success by simply adding widened fender flares and perhaps modernizing the headlights. He also went all-in embracing the AztekÂ’s abrupt, flattened rear end by removing the rear bumper lip, adding a slightly more aggressive rear spoiler to boot. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Elsewhere, the dominating and cheap-looking gray plastic under-cladding is gone in favor of body-color panels. Arellano also added some probably larger Pontiac Snowflake wheels with gold accents that really make them pop and play well against the signature Firebird decal dominating the hood. Commenters generally fall into one of two buckets. As one put it, “I never thought the Aztek could look this good.” Others implored Arellano to do a version with a T-top. Or as one Autoblog editor put it, “So it turns out the reason the Aztek was a laughingstock failure is that it didnÂ’t come in a Smokey and the Bandit Edition. Somewhere, a dude who got shouted down in a product-planning meeting years ago is vindicated.” Sold between 2001 and 2005, the Aztek arguably reached the pinnacle of its notoriety as the metaphor for the drab, underachieving life of Walter White in AMCÂ’s meth drama, “Breaking Bad.” It came equipped with a 3.4-liter V6 that made 185 horsepower and sent it through a four-speed automatic to the front wheels, with an all-wheel drive version also available. The Aztek may have the last laugh, especially if it gets a screaming chicken. “The fact it was a controversial design and didnÂ’t sell well will make it an object of curiosity from a historical standpoint many years from now,” McKeel Hagerty, president and CEO of classic-car insurer Hagerty Insurance, told Autoblog back in 2016.

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.