1987 Pontiac Firebird Base Coupe 2-door 5.0l on 2040-cars

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Junkyard Gem: 2010 Pontiac G6

What makes a discarded car a gem? Sometimes it's a car we all agree is very cool, and other times it's a car that tells us something about automotive history. Today's Junkyard Gem is the latter type: one of the very last Pontiacs sold, before The General shut out the lights forever on the storied marque after 84 years. The G6 was Pontiac's Epsilon-platform-based car, sibling to the Chevy Malibu, Saturn Aura, and Saab 9-3 (plus a bunch of Europe-only machinery). The very last Pontiac ever built was a white 2010 G6 sedan like this one (all '10 G6s were sedans, the coupe and convertible having been nixed in 2009), though that car was built in January of 2010 and this one came off the line in July of 2009. They build Bolts at the Orion Assembly plant these days. The higher-zoot G6s came with V6s or even V8s, but this car has "fleet machine" written all over it and has the base 2.4-liter Ecotec four-banger making 164 horsepower. Pontiac shoppers in the United States could buy the Vibe as a 2010 model as well, while Mexican Pontiac dealerships also sold new G2s (known as the Spark here) that year. The G6 was The Final Pontiac, though, bookending a run that began with the 1926 Pontiac Six. This one will go to its grave with the original owner's manual still inside. Even the cheapest 2010 G6s came with an AUX jack for the radio, a feature that was still maddeningly hard to find in rental cars a decade ago. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Before the bankruptcy and the gloom, optimism surrounded the G6. Related Video: Featured Gallery Junked 2010 Pontiac G6 View 19 Photos Auto News Pontiac Automotive History Sedan pontiac g6 Junkyard Gems

Wanted: 1967 Pontiac GTO for a special Father's Day

Jim Sharp of Elkhorn, Wisconsin needs a red 1967 Pontiac GTO to make his dad's Father's Day, possibly his last one, something extra special.
Back in the '60s, Jim's dad, Ken, drove a cherry red 1967 GTO to California for a job. He met a girl, got married and decided his wife's 1965 Ford Mustang was more fuel efficient than the Goat and the GTO was sold. As the story almost always goes, Ken has had seller's regret ever since.
Jim always meant to find a 1967 GTO and, with his dad's help, restore it. But life got in the way, time slipped by and Ken was recently diagnosed with esophageal cancer and given about three months to live.

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.