1981 Pontiac Gto (grand Prix) Custom With 400 Big Block on 2040-cars

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Junkyard Gem: 2003 Pontiac Grand Am GT 30th Anniversary Edition

With the era of the 1960s-style muscle car ended by the ever-more-stringent emissions regulations, insurance costs and higher gasoline prices of the early 1970s, GM's Pontiac Division was ready with a lineup of flash-enhanced machines packed with (alleged) European-style performance and styling. Three of them were based on the midsize A Platform for 1973: the LeMans, the Grand Prix and the brand-new Grand Am. The 1973 Grand Am was cheaper than the luxed-up Grand Prix, but still had a BMW-ish interior and wild exterior styling; sales weren't great, but the 30th anniversary of this car seemed sufficiently momentous for Pontiac to create a special-edition package for its soon-to-be-axed successor. Here's one of these rare machines, spotted recently in a Denver car graveyard. The original rear-wheel-drive Grand Am was built for the 1973-1975 and 1978-1980 model years, but its similarity to the much cheaper LeMans kept sales numbers unimpressive. When the Grand Am name was revived for a Pontiac-badged compact on the front-drive N Platform in the 1985 model year, however, it became a big seller right away and stayed that way into our current century. The N-Body Grand Am was built through 2005, with platform updates for the 1992 and 1999 model years. Along the way, it was sibling to such cars as the Oldsmobile Calais, Buick Somerset, Chevrolet Beretta and Oldsmobile Alero. By 2003, though, the ground was shifting under Pontiac's feet. The iconic Firebird had been discontinued the previous year, and even the Grand Prix's days were officially numbered. Oldsmobile would be gone after 2004, and the entire Pontiac vehicle lineup would be shaken up soon after. The last year for the Grand Am (and the Sunfire) would be 2005, with the G6 taking its place. With all that going on, why not offer a 30th Anniversary package? After all, the Grand Prix got a 40th Anniversary Edition for 2002. Our reviewer described this car as "leaner, trimmer and more contemporary" at the time, but made no mention of the 30th Anniversary Edition. The VIN says this car is a top-grade GT1 sedan, with an MSRP of $22,325 (that's about $39,920 in 2023 dollars). Two engines were available in the 2003 Grand Am: a 2.2-liter Ecotec four-cylinder with 140 horsepower and a 3.4-liter pushrod V6 with either 170 or 175 horsepower. This car has the 175-horse V6, complete with "Ram Air" cold-air induction. That name goes way back in Pontiac history.

24 Hours of Le Mans live update part two

We tasked surfing journalist Rory Parker to watch this year's live stream of the 2016 24 Hours of Le Mans. What follows is an experiment to experience the world's greatest endurance race from the perspective of a motorsports novice. Parker lives in Hawaii and can hold his breath longer than he can go without swearing. For Part One, click here. Or you can skip ahead to Part Three here. I write about surfing for a living. If you can call it a living. Basically means I spend my days fucking around and my wife pays for everything. Because she's got a real job that pays well. Brings home the bacon. Very progressive arrangement. Super twenty first century. I run a surf website, beachgrit.com, with two other guys. It's a strange gig. More or less uncensored. Kind of popular. Very good at alienating advertisers. My behavior has cost us a few bucks. I'm terrible at self-censorship. Know there's a line out there, no idea where it lies. I still don't understand any of the technical side. Might as well be astrophysics or something. For contests I do long rambling write ups. They rarely make much sense. Mainly just talk about my life, whatever random thoughts pop into my head. "Can you do something similar for Le Mans?" "Sure, but I know absolutely fuck-all about racing." "That's okay. Just write what you want." "Will do. But you're gonna need to edit my stuff. Probably censor it heavily." So here I am. I spent the last week trying to learn all I can about the sport of endurance racing. But there's only so much you can jam in your head. And I still don't understand any of the technical side. Might as well be astrophysics or something. While I rambled things were happening. Tracy Krohn spun into the gravel on the Forza chicane. #89 is out of the race after an accident I missed. Pegasus racing hit the wall on the Porsche curves. Bashed up front end, in the garage getting fixed. Toyota and Porsche are swapping back and forth in the front three. Ford back in the lead in GTE Pro. #91 Porsche took a stone through the radiator, down two laps. Not good. The wife and I are one of those weird childless couples that spend way too much time caring for the needs of their pet. French bulldog, Mr Eugene Victor Debs. Great little guy. Spent the last four years training him to be obedient and friendly. Nice thing about dogs, when you're sick of dealing with them you can just lock 'em in another room for a few hours. You don't need to worry about paying for college.

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.