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This or That: 2005 Chrysler Crossfire SRT6 vs. 1984 Pontiac Fiero

Welcome to another round of This or That, where two Autoblog editors pick a topic, pick a side and pull no punches. Last round pitted yours truly against Associate Editor Brandon Turkus, and my chosen VW Vanagon Syncro narrowly defeated Brandon's 1987 Land Rover. In fact, it was, by far, the closest round we've seen, with 1,907 voters seeing things my way (for 50.8 percent of the vote) versus 1,848 votes for Brandon's Rover (49.2 percent). Sweet, sweet victory! For this latest round of This or That, I've roped Editor Greg Migliore into what I think is a rather fun debate. We've each chosen our favorite terrible cars, setting a price limit of $10,000 to make sure neither of us went too crazy with our automotive atrocities. I think we've both chosen terribly... and I mean that in the best way possible. 2005 Chrysler Crossfire SRT6 Jeremy Korzeniewski: Why It's Terrible: Taken in isolation, the Chrysler Crossfire isn't necessarily a terrible car. In fact, it drives pretty darn well, and there's a lot of solid engineering under its slinky shape. Problem is, that engineering was already rather long in the tooth well before Chrysler ever got its hands on it, having come from Mercedes-Benz, which used the basic chassis and drivetrain in a previous version of its SLK coupe and roadster. Granted, the SLK was an okay car, too, but even when new, it hardly set the world on fire with sporty driving dynamics. Chrysler took these decent-but-no-more bits and pieces from the Mercedes parts bin – remember, this car was conceived in the disastrous Merger Of Equals days – and covered them with a rather attractive hard-candy shell. Unfortunately, the super sporty shape wrote checks in the minds of buyers that its well-worn mechanicals were simply unable to cash, though an injection of power courtesy of a supercharged V6 engine in the SRT6 model, as seen here, certainly helped ease some of those woes. In the end, Chrysler was left with a so-called halo car that looked the part but never quite performed the part. It was almost universally panned by critics as an overpriced parts-bin special, which, I must add, was damningly accurate. As a result, sales were very slow, and within the first few months, dealers were clearancing the car at cut-rate prices, just to keep them from taking up too much of the showroom floor. Why It's Not That Terrible, After All: I can speak from personal experience when discussing the Chrysler Crossfire. You see, I owned one. Well, sort of...

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.