1973 Pontiac Grandam,lone Survivor,1 Of 9 Sold New To Nascar,rare! Phs Documents on 2040-cars

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Drive plays Smokey, Bandit with turbo Trans Am

The modern trend for powertrains can be summed up with the simple maxim: cut displacement and add forced induction. Whether you are looking at the just-introduced 2016 Chevrolet Cruze or a BMW M3, this adage holds true. However, Pontiac's attempt at the idea goes all the way back in 1980 with the Firebird Trans Am and its turbocharged 4.9-liter V8. Drive's Mike Musto takes out a 1981 example to explain what makes this largely forgotten muscle car so special, and it certainly isn't performance. While a 4.9-liter V8 might sound like a lot in the modern world, keep in mind that only few years before the second-generation Trans Am was available with up to a staggering 7.5-liters of displacement. Turbocharging of road cars in the early '80s was quite archaic by today's standards, and the Firebird only managed around 200 horsepower with this mill. Without much go, the turbo Trans Am made up for a lack of power with lots of show. As Musto points out, the famous flaming chicken adorns practically every surface you can see on the coupe, and boost lights on the hood illuminate when the turbo is spinning. Musto still finds a lot to like about the turbo Trans Am. He even calls it "Burt Reynolds as an automobile." Find out why the coupe is so special in this entertaining clip.

Junkyard Gem: 1980 Pontiac Grand Prix LJ

A couple of years before John DeLorean and his team at the Pontiac Division created the GTO by pasting a big engine and some gingerbread on the LeMans, they created a rakish, powerful coupe based on the staid full-size Catalina. This was the 1962 Pontiac Grand Prix, which sold like crazy and escalated the personal luxury coupe war already brewing in Detroit. Starting with the 1969 model year, the Grand Prix switched to a smaller chassis (shared the following year with the new Chevrolet Monte Carlo), and all subsequent rear-wheel-drive Grand Prix (that is, through 1987) remained siblings of the Monte. Today's Junkyard Gem is a rare 1980 Grand Prix LJ, found in a self-service yard near Reno, Nevada. Sure, a fresh round of Middle East conflict had put a kink in America's fuel hose in 1979, leading to gas lines and a general sense of malaise, but at least the new Grand Prix looked extra sharp for 1980. The LJ package came with all sorts of appearance and comfort goodies, including these "luxury seats with loose-pillow design in New Florentine Cloth." A Pontiac Phoenix LJ was available as well. These seats must have been very comfortable when new. Who needed a Cadillac when Pontiac would sell you this car at a base MSRP of just $7,000 (about $26,704 in 2023 dollars)? That price was what you paid if you were willing to get the base 3.8-liter Buick V6, though. To get a V8 engine with four-barrel carburetor, you had to pay extra. If you did pay the extra for a V8, which one you got depended on which state you lived in; in California, you got this 305-cubic-inch (5.0-liter Chevrolet small-block), and in the other 49 states you got a 301-cubic-inch (4.9-liter) Pontiac. The 305 was rated at 150 horsepower with 230 pound-feet; the 301 made 140hp and 240 lb-ft. This car was originally bought in California (the state line is about ten miles away from its final parking spot), so it has the Chevy engine. The V8 added $195 (plus $250 for the California-only emissions system) to the out-the-door price of the car, or about $1,316 in 2023 dollars. Outside of California, a 4.3-liter Chevy V6 was available for just 80 additional bucks ($305 now). All 1980 Grand Prix got a three-speed automatic transmission as standard equipment, with no manual available from the factory. This car has the optional air conditioning, which cost $601 ($2,293 after inflation). This is the "Custom Sport" steering wheel, which was standard on the LJ. The tilt option cost $81 ($309 today).

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.