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Burt Reynolds' movie re-creations fetch $379,500 in Vegas

The recent death of Hollywood legend and automotive enthusiast Burt Reynolds helped drive up the value of four of his former cars from the 1970s and '80s, which sold last weekend at Barrett-Jackson's Las Vegas auction for a combined $379,500. Reynolds, who died Sept. 6 at age 82, had offered three Pontiac Trans Ams — two of them re-creations of the cars he drove in "Smokey and the Bandit" and "Hooper" and the third from 1984 used to promote his United States Football League team, the Tampa Bay Bandits. The fourth was a 1978 Chevrolet R30 pickup truck, styled like the one featured in "Cannonball Run." The "Bandit" re-creation, a 1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am that Reynolds ordered to be as "movie-correct" as possible but featuring a custom-built 200-4R automatic transmission, sold for $192,500. The car features a freshly built Pontiac 400 cubic-inch V8 mated to a four-speed automatic and featuring all-new Butler Performance parts and air-conditioning components. Reynolds reportedly said this was his favorite car from his films, and it even came with an authentic movie-correct CB radio and CB antenna. The red retro-rocket "Hooper" '78 Firebird, with a 403 cubic-inch V8 and a three-speed automatic, hammered for $88,000. By comparison, a gold 1978 Trans Am also offered at the Las Vegas auction but not connected to Reynolds fetched $27,500. The 1987 Chevy R30 pickup was a re-creation of the Indy Hauler pace truck seen jumping over a moving freight train in "Cannonball Run." It hammered for $49,500. The fourth car never appeared in any of Reynolds' films but is instead the only surviving example of two Trans Ams used to promote the Tampa Bay Bandits of the now-defunct USFL, having been driven out onto the field by Reynolds and his late friend and co-star, Jerry Reed, during opening day one season. It also sold for $49,500. At the Barrett-Jackson Scottsdale Auction in 2016, Reynolds accompanied a 1977 Trans Am used to promote "Bandit" onto the auction block. That car sold for $550,000. Related Video: Featured Gallery Burt Reynolds 2018 Barrett-Jackson Las Vegas Auction Image Credit: Barrett-Jackson Celebrities Chevrolet Pontiac Truck Coupe Performance celebrity pontiac trans am pontiac firebird burt reynolds

This 1927 Oakland is a minimalist hot rod

There are hundreds of American automakers that sprung up during the dawn of the automotive era, only to fold into obscurity or get gobbled up by what would eventually become the Big Four (yes, we're counting AMC here). Oakland is one such company, which was the forbearer for General Motors' Pontiac division. Sold until 1931, you simply don't see Oakland-badged cars anymore. Unless, that is, you know Brian Bent.
Bent drives a 1927 Oakland that still rides on wooden wheels. Its original wooden wheels, from the sound of it. That makes this anachronist and his Oakland the perfect subject for a Petrolicious video. Like many of the cars highlighted by Petrolicious, this old Oakland has had some work done to it, featuring a Pontiac flathead engine that's been pushed forward and a clutch pack built by Bent.
Take a look below for a closer look at this rare and fascinating Oakland.

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.