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One of Burt Reynolds' favorite cars could be yours

LOS ANGELES — One of Burt Reynolds' favorite cars is going up for auction in June along with some of his cowboy boots, hats, sports jackets and other items from his estate, Julien's Auctions said on Friday. The two-day auction in Beverly Hills, authorized by the actor's family, comes almost a year after the death at age 82 of the charming star who was one of Hollywood's favorite actors. The highlight of the auction is a 1979 Pontiac Trans Am car that Reynolds used on photo shoots and drove on the Bandit Run cross country rally, which re-enacts the journey at the center of his 1977 film "Smokey and the Bandit." The car, which Reynolds co-owned with his business partner Gene Kennedy, is expected to fetch up to $500,000 at auction, Julien's said in a statement. Two pairs of leather cowboy boots — one red and one yellow — are also offered for sale with estimates ranging from $800 to $2,000 a pair, along with two cowboy hats. Reynolds started out as a football player at Florida State University (FSU) before injuries suffered in a car crash wrecked his hopes of a professional career. But his attachment to FSU remained strong. The auction includes several custom or personalized FSU baseball, basketball and varsity jackets. Other highlights include an oil on canvas painting of the actor's favorite horse titled "Cartouche," which carries an estimate of $20,000 - $30,000. Other art works, furniture and dozens of personal items are also being offered for sale. The auction will take place in Beverly Hills on June 15 and 16, and will be preceded by a public exhibition of some of the items from June 10-14. Reynolds, who was also known for the 1960s television series "Gunsmoke" and the movies "Deliverance" and "Boogie Nights,"" died of a heart attack in Florida in September 2018. Reporting by Jill Serjeant.

Question of the Day: Most degraded car name?

When Ford came up with a not-so-sporty version of the Pinto and slapped Mustang badges on it in 1974, that was a low point for the Mustang name. When Chrysler applied the venerable Town & Country name on perfectly functional but unglamorous minivans, it saddened many of us. But perhaps the biggest demotion for a once-proud model came when, in 1988, General Motors imported a misery-enhancing Daewoo from Korea and called it the Pontiac LeMans. The original Pontiac LeMans was a great-looking midsize car with fairly advanced (for the time) suspension design and engine options including potent V8s and a screaming overhead-cam straight-six. The Daewoo-based Pontiac LeMans was a cramped, shoddy hooptie that served only to ruin the LeMans name forever, while stealing sales from the Suzuki-based Chevrolet Sprint. Sure, using the once-respected Monterey name on the Mercurized Ford Freestar was bad, but Mercury didn't have long to live at that point. I say the downward spiral of the LeMans name was the most agonizing in automotive history. What do you think? Related Video: This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Auto News Ford Mercury Pontiac Automotive History Classics questions ford pinto names

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.