Knight Rider Kitt Replica 90 Firebird Formula on 2040-cars

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This KITT replica sold at auction for $32,500

UPDATE: This 1987 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am KITT replica officially sold for $32,500. Here's hoping the new owner has a blast throwin' it into Pursuit Mode. Let's get one thing straight right off the bat: This isn't a perfect KITT replica. The original KITT used in the Knight Rider TV series was based on a 1982 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am. The one you see above, which is currently for sale at auction site Bring A Trailer, is a 1987 model, and since it's a GTA edition, it has some extra body cladding that the smooth-sided television car lacked. That aside, most casual observers would probably never notice the difference, and even those who did (like us) are still likely to be impressed by the car's transformation. This KITT replica is powered by a 5.0-liter V8 engine mated to a four-speed automatic transmission. It ought to be fairly quick, though quite a bit shy of the fictional car's very fictional 300-mph top speed. We're not exactly Knight Rider experts, but some quick Google sleuthing suggests that the Knight Industries Two Thousand supposedly cost more than $11,000,000 to build in Hollywoodland. This one will surely command a significantly lower sum — as of this writing, it's been bid up to $18,000 with four days remaining on the auction. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. For those truly fanatical about accuracy, here's a video of one of the originals visiting Jay Leno's Garage for reference. There are several videos of the car that detail its modifications inside and out, but suffice it to say it seems to be a well-sorted replica. Here's hoping its new owner keeps it well clear of other KARRs. Related Video: This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings.

Question of the Day: Most degraded car name?

When Ford came up with a not-so-sporty version of the Pinto and slapped Mustang badges on it in 1974, that was a low point for the Mustang name. When Chrysler applied the venerable Town & Country name on perfectly functional but unglamorous minivans, it saddened many of us. But perhaps the biggest demotion for a once-proud model came when, in 1988, General Motors imported a misery-enhancing Daewoo from Korea and called it the Pontiac LeMans. The original Pontiac LeMans was a great-looking midsize car with fairly advanced (for the time) suspension design and engine options including potent V8s and a screaming overhead-cam straight-six. The Daewoo-based Pontiac LeMans was a cramped, shoddy hooptie that served only to ruin the LeMans name forever, while stealing sales from the Suzuki-based Chevrolet Sprint. Sure, using the once-respected Monterey name on the Mercurized Ford Freestar was bad, but Mercury didn't have long to live at that point. I say the downward spiral of the LeMans name was the most agonizing in automotive history. What do you think? Related Video: This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Auto News Ford Mercury Pontiac Automotive History Classics questions ford pinto names

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.