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Junkyard Gem: 1991 Pontiac Grand Am LE with Quad 4 Engine

GM introduced the N-Body compact platform with the Oldsmobile Calais and Pontiac Grand Am for the 1985 model year and continued building N-based cars through 1998. Most of these cars weren't interesting from an enthusiast standpoint, but a handful rolled off the assembly line with raucous DOHC Oldsmobile Quad 4 engines and manual transmissions, and those cars were plenty of fun. Here's a 1991 Grand Am with that rare setup, photographed in a self-service yard in California's Central Valley. The base engine in the 1991 Grand Am was the 110-horsepower, 2.5-liter pushrod Iron Duke, an engine that might have been fine on a Romanian tractor in 1953 but had no place on an American street car as the 21st century approached. Fortunately, GM started bolting the modern 2.3-liter DOHC Quad 4 engine into 1988 cars, and this was a proper four-cylinder. The Quad 4 ran a little rough and uncivilized, and it had its share of reliability problems, but you could rev the piss out of it and it made good power. In 1991, this engine was rated at 180 hp. That made this 2,592-pound sedan pretty quick. Unfortunately, the slushboxization of America had progressed with depressing rapidity during the 1980s, and by 1991 most Grand Am buyers — even the ones who opted for the Quad 4 — chose the automatic transmission. That didn't happen with this car, though — it boasts a rugged Getrag 5-speed instead of the happiness-amputating three-speed automatic. Yes, that's the kind of odometer reading you'd expect to see on an Accord or Maxima from this era. Someone loved this car and took care of it. Here we see an interesting mix of 1980s and 1990s car-radio technology. CD players in cars were still costly luxury items in 1991, seldom seen in affordable cars like the Grand Am, while 1980s-style slider-style EQ controls were on the way out. This Delco unit straddles both decades nicely. I seek out Quad 4-equipped cars during my junkyard travels, and I have photographed quite a few: this '89 Cutlass Calais, this '90 Cutlass Calais, this '90 Grand Am, this '91 Quad 442, this '93 Achieva SCX, and this '98 Cavalier Z24. It's a shame that Buick never put the Quad 4 in the Reatta, which was a fine car ruined by a somnolent and obsolete V6. The music in this ad is even more early-1990s than Crystal Pepsi. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings.

GM reintroduces Tripower name in the worst way possible

The story of General Motors' use of the Tripower moniker begins way back in 1957, when Semon E. "Bunkie" Knudsen, then General Manager of GM's Pontiac division, directed his engineers to inject more performance into his brand's line of V8-powered automobiles. Fuel injection was an option, but hot rodders flocked instead to Tri-Power (marketed way back when with a hyphen), which grafted a trio of two-barrel Rochester carburetors onto a single intake manifold. A legend was born. And that legend was born of performance. At idle and when full power wasn't required, Pontiac's Tri-Power system used just the middle carburetor, which helped make the setup easier to tune. Depending on the year and model, either a vacuum system or a mechanical linkage opened up the two outer carbs, thereby switching from two barrels to six, and allowing the engine to take in more fuel and air. And it was an easy marketing win – six barrels is better than four barrels, right? Because performance! So, when news filtered in that GM has resurrected the Tripower name, those of us who grew up attending classic car shows and wrenching on old Pontiacs did a double-take. And then we all collectively sighed. Turns out that today's Tripower refers to a trio of fuel-saving measures that include cylinder deactivation, active thermal management, and intake valve lift control, according to Automotive News. And, at least for now, it applies to GM's line of fullsize trucks powered by a 2.7-liter turbocharged four-cylinder engine. We're all for saving fuel whenever possible. And we have zero say in how any automaker chooses to market its products and technologies. But, we'll offer our two cents anyway: Relaunching a storied name from the past is fine. Relaunching a storied name from the past while completely overlooking the reasons the name got famous in the first place is only going to irritate the people who remember the name in the first place. Couldn't they just call this new technology package something else? Related Video: News Source: Automotive NewsImage Credit: Getty Green Marketing/Advertising Chevrolet GM Pontiac Automotive History Truck chevrolet silverado

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.