1999 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am Coupe 2-door 5.7l on 2040-cars

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Junkyard Gem: 2002 Pontiac Aztek

The General's Pontiac Division sold the Aztek for the 2001 through 2005 model years, and — despite enjoying something of a cultural rebirth in recent years — it is generally considered to be one of the worst cars of all time. The idea of using a minivan platform as the basis for a rough-and-tough-looking crossover with plenty of outdoor-lifestyle amenities wasn't the problem, since many vehicle manufacturers have printed bales of money using that formula. What doomed the Aztek was its hideous appearance and sticker price too lofty for its underemployed-at-the-time Generation X target demographic. Still, the Aztek proved to be perfectly suited for the outdoor activities that Coloradans love: hiking, camping, fishing, skiing, hauling mud-caked golden retrievers around, etc., and so you'll still find lots of Azteks on the roads of the Centennial State. Here's an Aztek Yellow Aztek (yes, that's really the paint color's official title) residing just a few rows from a '76 Checker Taxicab in a Denver self-service yard. Sure, it does look like a vehicle built to the specifications of a six-year-old who decreed a mashup between a Datsun F-10 and a Fisher-Price Little People Travel Together Airplane, but so what? There's a built-in air compressor to blow up your inflatable rafts and volleyballs, a tent attachment that turns the rear of the van into a camper, 12-volt power plugs all over the vehicle (years before this became commonplace on ordinary minivans and SUVs), and running-gear commonality with a jillion Ventures, Silhouettes, Montanas and Trans Sports. Buick managed to de-uglify the Aztek (somewhat) and sold it as the Rendezvous through 2007, but the Aztek never could win over many people with this face. I see plenty of Azteks and Rendezvouses in Denver-area wrecking yards, and I've documented a handful over the years. This one came fully loaded from the factory, with the Corvette-style heads-up display in full effect. The center console was a removable cooler, which was a great idea Â… except for the fact that this cooler holds five standard 12-ounce cans. Michigan residents tell me that this must have been intentional on the part of the Detroit-based Aztek designers, because Michiganders are expected to chug one beer out of a sixer as they walk from the liquor store to the car in the parking lot Â… which makes me extra cautious whenever I'm driving in the Wolverine State.

Burt Reynolds Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am sells for $450k

Apparently, there's still a lot of love out there for by Burt Reynolds and his famous role in Smokey and the Bandit – or at least for his car. As you might remember, Autoblog reported on the auction of the 1977 Pontiac Trans Am a few week ago. At the time, the movie star's car was already well past its $80,000 top estimate, and bidding only shot up from there for a final price of $450,000. That seems like a lot of money for a Trans Am that never actually appears in Smokey and the Bandit. According to the listing, the car was used to promote the film and was given to Reynolds afterward with his name on the title as proof of ownership. The Trans Am looks practically identical to the one in the movie with black paint, the gold firebird on the hood and Bandit name on the driver's door. This one packs a 400-cubic-inch (6.6-liter) V8 with a 4-barrel carburetor under the hood, an automatic transmission and a plaque inside the door that proclaims "1977 Pontiac Trans Am Owned By Burt Reynolds." The wedding stagecoach based on an International Harvester Scout we mentioned in the earlier story also beat its top estimate of $20,000. It went for $34,375, according to the auction house's website, and in total the sale raised about $2.5 million. Scroll down to read the full announcement from Julien's Auctions. LEGENDARY STAR BURT REYNOLDS PROVES TO BE AS ICONIC AS HIS AUCTION RESULTS "Smokey and the Bandit" Trans Am Sells for $450,000 Career Memorabilia including Awards, Personal Items and Film Worn Costumes along with Vast Art Collection from Reynolds Museum Caliber Private Collection Featured at Julien's Auctions This Week Brings in $2.5 million Las Vegas, Nevada – (December 15, 2014) – Julien's Auctions, the auction house to the stars concluded a whirlwind two-day auction of The Collection of Award Winning Actor Burt Reynolds. The exciting auction event featuring personal effects, career memorabilia, and a museum-caliber fine art collection took place at the Palms Casino Resort Thursday and Friday with bidders from around the world bidding high and bidding often. Burt Reynolds, best known as a leading film star, has had a storied career both on the big and small screen. Aside from his award winning portrayals of some of the world's most iconic characters in film and television, Reynolds is also a businessman who has owned a football team, a dinner theatre, a working ranch and even a museum.

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.