2004 Pontiac Gto Base Coupe 2-door 5.7l on 2040-cars

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German prosecutors have recorded calls between VW bigwigs talking dieselgate

It's barely possible to believe how poorly Volkswagen continues to handle dieselgate. Depending on which day you catch the news, the German carmaker embodies the corporate venality of "Michael Clayton," the comic blundering of the Coen Brothers' "Burn After Reading," and the every-man-for-himself vengeance of "Reservoir Dogs." Today is Tarantino day, with news that German prosecutors have recordings of phone calls between former Audi and Porsche development boss Wolfgang Hatz, ex-Volkswagen Group executive Matthias Muller, and current Porsche executives Oliver Blume and Michael Steiner. Hatz made the calls to the trio in November 2015, two months after Volkswagen admitted its diesel-particulate sins to the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. Hatz was still employed at the time, and in his company car. Who recorded the calls? His wife. Hatz and his missus apparently saw the storm coming and started stacking defenses early. Hatz's wife, who can be heard encouraging Hatz during at least one call, sent the recordings to Hatz's attorney from her mobile phone. According to a Google translation of the German newspaper Handelsblatt's report, she included the note, "Here is a very long, but quite informative conversation on the current situation with useful formulations." The report in Handelsblatt said that in Germany it is generally "not allowed" to record a conversation and pass it on to a third party. We don't know how the authorities will handle this matter, since prosecutors found the recordings in e-mail attachments on Mrs. Hatz's mobile phone. Remember, when the diesel scandal broke, VW spent months saying that only a small number of low-level personnel were behind it, and all of the higher-ups had been blindsided. Ex-CEO Martin Winterkorn claimed to be "stunned that misconduct on such a scale was possible in the Volkswagen Group." Winterkorn successor Matthias Muller said, "according to current information, a few developers interfered in the engine management." Former VW USA honcho Michael Horn told a congressional committee that "a couple of software engineers" programmed the software for reasons no one could understand. In the recorded conversations, Hatz apparently called Muller to find out how VW planned to treat him.

Burt Reynolds' personal 1977 Trans-Am from Smokey And The Bandit for sale

Smokey and the Bandit is one of those quintessential 1970s car movies with insane premises but tons of fun. After all, the basic plot of the film is about distracting the police to transport cases of Coors beer cross country. While Burt Reynolds receives top billing, the real star is definitely his black Pontiac Trans-Am. Now, there's a chance to posses one of these muscle machines actually owned by Reynolds, and it's already proving quite popular. The car is a '77 Trans-Am with the famous, gold screaming chicken proudly on the hood. However, while this is a piece of Reynolds memorabilia, it's not really part of cinematic history. According to the listing, this example was used as a promotional vehicle and then given to Reynolds with a title showing him as a previous owner for proof. Still, there's 400-cubic-inch (6.55-liter) V8 under the hood with a 4-barrel carburetor and an automatic transmission. A plaque inside the driver's door proclaims the car as a "1977 Pontiac Trans Am Owned By Burt Reynolds," and there's a Bandit logo on the door. This is just one lot of Julien Auction's sale of Reynolds memorabilia on December 11 and 12 at The Palms Casino Resort in Las Vegas, NV. Bidding is already running online, and the Trans-Am is up to $130,000, as of this writing. For the true Reynolds fanatic, the auction also lists the motorized stagecoach from his wedding to Loni Anderson. It rides built on an International Harvester Scout frame with an interior reportedly from Dolly Parton.

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.