1972 Pontiac Le Mans Luxury on 2040-cars

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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

Junkyard Gem: 1997 Pontiac Sunfire SE Convertible

For the entire 24-year production run of the GM J platform (best known for the Chevrolet Cavalier), the Pontiac Division offered new J-Body cars for sale in the United States. First there was the J2000, followed in quick succession by the 2000, 2000 Sunbird and Sunbird. The Sunbird stuck around until the Cavalier got a major redesign for the 1995 model year, at which point Pontiac changed the car's name to Sunfire. Today's Junkyard Gem is one of those early Sunfires, a top-of-the-line SE convertible with the optional big engine and manual transmission. The Sunfire was an extremely close sibling to the same-year Cavalier (by the late 1980s, all the other US-market GM divisions had dropped their J-cars, which meant no more Skyhawks, Cimarrons or Firenzas), quite difficult to distinguish from its near-twin at a glance. The base engine for the 1997 Sunfire convertible was the pushrod 2.2-liter straight-four that powered so many J-bodies of the 1990s. That engine produced just 120 gnashing, valve-floating horsepower, not much by late-1990s standards. For a mere 450 additional dollars, however, the 2.4-liter Twin Cam engine and its high-revving 150 horses could be had by '97 Sunfire buyers. That's what's in this car. This is one of the members of the Oldsmobile Quad 4 family, though some fanatics will yell at you if you apply that name to the versions that don't have big QUAD 4 lettering cast into the valve cover. This is the most powerful engine ever used in production Sunfires. For 1997, Pontiac offered a four-speed automatic transmission for no extra cost in the Sunfire convertible. Buyers of all other Sunfire models that year had to shell out either $550 or $810 ($1,026 or $1,511 in 2023 dollars) for a two-pedal rig. That means that the buyer of this car really wanted the five-speed manual transmission (or just hungered for the $810 credit offered in the fine print for takers of the manual). Plenty of free-breathing engine power, five-on-the-floor driving enjoyment and the open skies above. What a fun car! This one made it to nearly 180,000 miles. For this car with the Quad 4 under the hood and a clutch pedal on the floor, the MSRP was $18,539 (about $34,584 today). Its Cavalier LS convertible twin with the same engine/transmission setup cost $17,365 ($32,394 now). This car has a bunch of options, including the 15" Rally aluminum wheels, so the out-the-door price would have been higher. The last year for the Sunfire was 2005, same as the Cavalier.

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.