1987 Pontiac Fiero on 2040-cars

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Here are a few of our automotive guilty pleasures

It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway. The world is full of cars, and just about as many of them are bad as are good. It's pretty easy to pick which fall into each category after giving them a thorough walkaround and, more important, driving them. But every once in a while, an automobile straddles the line somehow between good and bad — it may be hideously overpriced and therefore a marketplace failure, it may be stupid quick in a straight line but handles like a drunken noodle, or it may have an interior that looks like it was made of a mess of injection-molded Legos. Heck, maybe all three. Yet there's something special about some bad cars that actually makes them likable. The idea for this list came to me while I was browsing classified ads for cars within a few hundred miles of my house. I ran across a few oddballs and shared them with the rest of the team in our online chat room. It turns out several of us have a few automotive guilty pleasures that we're willing to admit to. We'll call a few of 'em out here. Feel free to share some of your own in the comments below. Dodge Neon SRT4 and Caliber SRT4: The Neon was a passably good and plucky little city car when it debuted for the 1995 model year. The Caliber, which replaced the aging Neon and sought to replace its friendly marketing campaign with something more sinister, was panned from the very outset for its cheap interior furnishings, but at least offered some decent utility with its hatchback shape. What the two little front-wheel-drive Dodge models have in common are their rip-roarin' SRT variants, each powered by turbocharged 2.4-liter four-cylinder engines. Known for their propensity to light up their front tires under hard acceleration, the duo were legitimately quick and fun to drive with a fantastic turbo whoosh that called to mind the early days of turbo technology. — Consumer Editor Jeremy Korzeniewski  Chevrolet HHR SS: Chevy's HHR SS came out early in my automotive journalism career, and I have fond memories of the press launch (and having dinner with Bob Lutz) that included plenty of tire-smoking hard launches and demonstrations of the manual transmission's no-lift shift feature. The 260-horsepower turbocharged four-cylinder was and still is a spunky little engine that makes the retro-inspired HHR a fun little hot rod that works quite well as a fun little daily driver.

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.