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Junkyard Gem: 1987 Pontiac Safari Station Wagon

During the 1960s and 1970s, station wagons based on full-sized Detroit sedans were the default family haulers, and many of those Kingswood Estates and Country Squires and Ambassadors came with unapologetically phony woodgrain-printed exterior paneling and trim. By the late 1980s, however, few were snapping up such wagons, making this '87 Safari that I spotted in a Denver yard an interesting find. Power for this wagon came from a 307-cubic-inch Oldsmobile V8 making 140 horsepower. General Motors used this engine in Buicks, Oldsmobiles, Chevrolets, Pontiacs, and Cadillacs, finally discontinuing production for the 1990 model year. Was the "wood" convincing, even when new? Of course not, but it was a cherished American tradition. Related Video: Featured Gallery 1987 Pontiac Safari station wagon in Colorado junkyard View 18 Photos Auto News Pontiac station wagon

Steve McQueen barn find: Movie Trans Am surfaces after almost 40 years

An important Steve McQueen film car has emerged from barn storage. No, it's not yet another " Bullitt" Mustang, quite the contrary: The car in question is a 1980 Pontiac Trans Am, and it starred in McQueen's final film, " The Hunter." In the movie, McQueen plays a bounty hunter, and while in " Bullitt" he's quite the wheelman, that's not the case in this one. McQueen's character, "Papa" Thorson, is a horrible driver, and the Trans Am is far too much car for him. A chase sequence sees McQueen driving a combine harvester to catch the perps who are driving his stolen rental Pontiac, and the Trans Am ends up blown in half with dynamite, then returned to the airport on a trailer. The driver of said GMC truck and trailer combination, Harold McQueen (no relation), received the title of the first car used in filming, and for the following decades planned to fix the now-ruined car, but never got around to it. Instead, the 1,300-mile Pontiac wreck sat on a farm for nearly 40 years, until Harold decided to sell it to an enthusiast. There's studio documentation proving the car's pedigree, and stunt modifications can be seen in the Pontiac's floor and dash. While it's obviously in dreadful condition, the car remained more intact than the other stunt car the film crew blew up even more spectacularly — that car ended up as the pile of parts in the airport scene, and those bits and pieces were eventually dropped off at a junkyard after a Pontiac dealer refused them. McQueen did also drive a 1951 Chevrolet in the film, and kept that yellow convertible after filming was wrapped up. Sadly, he was diagnosed with cancer just a month later, after reportedly being in poor health during the shooting, and passed away in December 1980. The yellow Chevy stayed with his estate for some years, later getting restored and auctioned. Right now, it's not clear what the Trans Am's fate will be. The car's current owner, Calvin Riggs from Carlyle Motors in Katy, Texas, wants to know more about the Trans Am and the film shoot: His post on Hemmings includes a lot of information, but more would be useful. Related Video:

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.