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Fiero-based Zimmer Quicksilver was objectively terrible, but we'd totally drive it

Now here's something you don't see everyday. It's listed in our classified ads as a 1986 Pontiac Fiero, but as you can see, that description is a bit misleading. In fact, it's a Zimmer Quicksilver, which was indeed built atop the guts of a mid-engine Fiero coupe but was heavily modified by the Zimmer Motorcars Corporation at a facility in Pompano Beach, Florida. And the one you see here actually seems to be a pretty decent deal for a highly unusual car. We're not sure what was a more popular starting point for kit and custom cars in the 1980s and 1990s, but it would have to be either the Fiero or the vintage air-cooled Volkswagen Beetle. Fiero-based machines usually mimicked the design direction of any number of highly desirable Italian stallions, most commonly, we'd guess, the Lamborghini Countach. The Quicksilver is an altogether different animal, with over a foot of extra wheelbase added in front of the A-pillar to make for a dramatic, long and low silhouette that somehow still only has barely enough room for two passengers in its leather- and wood-lined interior. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. A stock 2.8-liter V6 engine from General Motors is mated to a three-speed automatic transmission that sends 140 horsepower and 170 pound-feet of torque to the rear wheels. Period road tests found the 0-60 run took a little over 10 seconds, which is terrible today but wasn't all that bad for the mid '80s. Best we can tell, only around 170 Quicksilvers were made between 1984 and 1988, which are, not coincidentally, the same years that Pontiac produced the Fiero. The 1986 Zimmer Quicksilver you see here is priced at $18,495 and shows well under 30,000 miles on the odometer. There aren't a lot of Zimmer Quicksilvers currently for sale for us to compare, but the ones we did find that had sold within the last few years suggest a little under $20,000 is a reasonable asking price. It could be a fun and offbeat addition to the garage, and if nothing else, you're not likely to see another one at your local car show. Related video: This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings.

Junkyard Gem: 1986 Pontiac Fiero 2M4

The mid-engined, plastic-bodied Pontiac Fiero two-seater caused great excitement when it hit the streets as a 1984 model, then became something of an embarrassment for GM when its design flaws became clear to the car-buying public. Still, when a V6 engine became available for 1985, followed by a fastback roof for 1986, the air of Pontiac Excitement around the Fiero lingered to a certain extent. We took a look at a discarded '86 Fiero GT with both the 2.8-liter V6 and the fastback body last year, and now we'll take a look at an example of the econo-commuter four-cylinder notchback version from the same year. Pontiac used the 2M4 designation (standing for two seats, mid-engine, four cylinders) on four-cylinder Fieros, while the six-cylinder cars were known as 2M6s. 2M4 decals went on four-banger Fieros for the 1984-1986 model years, while 2M6 decals seem to have been applied less consistently to the V6 cars of that period. During the early development period of the car that became the Fiero, the idea was that it would be a nimble sports car with a lightweight engine. Then the plan shifted, with the Fiero intended to be a gas-sipping commuter. When the car finally hit showrooms, it was a lot heavier than intended, it had a Chevy Citation front suspension in the back plus a Chevette front suspension, and its engine was the low-revving, weighty Iron Duke 2.5-liter straight-four. The Duke was about the least sports-car-appropriate four-cylinder engine The General could dredge up from his parts bins, but it was cheap and there was no shortage of production capacity. By the time the Fiero came out, the Iron Duke had been renamed the Tech 4. This one was rated at 92 horsepower and 132 pound-feet. The V6 Fieros get all the press today, but plenty of the Duked versions were sold (amazingly, the Chevrolet Camaro was available with Iron Duke power from 1982 through 1986). The emissions sticker tells us that this was a California-market car, rather than the "49-state" model the rest of the country got. California-specific emissions hardware added $99 to this car's price ($277 in 2023 dollars). While this car is a base model, the original buyer loaded it with options. The transmission is a three-speed automatic, priced at $465 (about $1,303 in 2023 dollars). A five-speed manual was standard equipment on the 1986 Fiero, though the old-fashioned four-speed manual was still available for a $50 credit ($140 now).

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.