1969 Pontiac Catalina Base 7.0l on 2040-cars

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Junkyard Gem: 2002 Pontiac Aztek

The General's Pontiac Division sold the Aztek for the 2001 through 2005 model years, and — despite enjoying something of a cultural rebirth in recent years — it is generally considered to be one of the worst cars of all time. The idea of using a minivan platform as the basis for a rough-and-tough-looking crossover with plenty of outdoor-lifestyle amenities wasn't the problem, since many vehicle manufacturers have printed bales of money using that formula. What doomed the Aztek was its hideous appearance and sticker price too lofty for its underemployed-at-the-time Generation X target demographic. Still, the Aztek proved to be perfectly suited for the outdoor activities that Coloradans love: hiking, camping, fishing, skiing, hauling mud-caked golden retrievers around, etc., and so you'll still find lots of Azteks on the roads of the Centennial State. Here's an Aztek Yellow Aztek (yes, that's really the paint color's official title) residing just a few rows from a '76 Checker Taxicab in a Denver self-service yard. Sure, it does look like a vehicle built to the specifications of a six-year-old who decreed a mashup between a Datsun F-10 and a Fisher-Price Little People Travel Together Airplane, but so what? There's a built-in air compressor to blow up your inflatable rafts and volleyballs, a tent attachment that turns the rear of the van into a camper, 12-volt power plugs all over the vehicle (years before this became commonplace on ordinary minivans and SUVs), and running-gear commonality with a jillion Ventures, Silhouettes, Montanas and Trans Sports. Buick managed to de-uglify the Aztek (somewhat) and sold it as the Rendezvous through 2007, but the Aztek never could win over many people with this face. I see plenty of Azteks and Rendezvouses in Denver-area wrecking yards, and I've documented a handful over the years. This one came fully loaded from the factory, with the Corvette-style heads-up display in full effect. The center console was a removable cooler, which was a great idea Â… except for the fact that this cooler holds five standard 12-ounce cans. Michigan residents tell me that this must have been intentional on the part of the Detroit-based Aztek designers, because Michiganders are expected to chug one beer out of a sixer as they walk from the liquor store to the car in the parking lot Â… which makes me extra cautious whenever I'm driving in the Wolverine State.

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.

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.