1999 Pontiac Firebird Base Coupe 2-door 3.8l on 2040-cars

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700 horsepower Porsche GT2 RS is the wildest 911 ever

The Porsche 911 comes in a variety of flavors, each filling a certain taste for a certain customer. Sitting atop the range is the new 911 GT2 RS. In previous generations, the GT2 had a bit of a reputation as a widowmaker, a 911 with massive power that could snap and bite with the slightest agitation. Porsche says the new model has been civilized, but with 700 horsepower going to the rear wheels, we're sure it's going to be as mad as ever. Power comes from a highly massaged version of the 3.8-liter flat-six from the 911 Turbo S. The rear-mounted engine makes an outrageous 700 horsepower and 553 lb-ft of torque. Like we previously reported, the new car will use water injection to help keep things cool. The only transmission is Porsche's PDK. While enthusiasts may lament the loss of the manual, the RS models have always been about performance above all else. Simply put, the PDK is the better performance option. All that power translates to a 0-60 mph time of 2.7 seconds and a top speed of 211 mph. The engine makes 80 more horsepower than the previous model. That makes it the most powerful road-going 911 ever built. In fact, the 887 horsepower 918 Spyder is the only road-going Porsche that makes more power. The fact that Porsche trusts all of that power to go to the rear is both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. In order to manage traction, the GT2 RS gets a number of upgrades. Rear-wheel steering has become commonplace in the 911 lineup, so it's no surprise to see it here. Sticky tires with 265/35 ZR 20 section rubber at the front and 325/30 ZR 21 section rubber at the rear keep things planted. That comically large rear wing adds downforce, adding to stability. The car gets standard carbon ceramic brakes. While some people prefer traditional rotors for the street, like the PDK, this is all about performance. A number of intakes and outlets complement the rear wing and maximize aerodynamic efficiency. It's a bit of a surprise that with all the focus on downforce, the GT2 RS still manages to top out at 211 mph. The hood, front wings, wheel housing vents, door mirrors, side air intakes, parts of the rear end, and a number of interior components are all made from carbon fiber. The roof has been made of magnesium. If you want to drop any pretense of civility and comfort in the pursuit of speed, Porsche is offering a Weissach package that shaves off another 40 pounds from the already impressive wet weight of 3,241.

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.

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.