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2023 Grand National Roadster Show Mega Photo Gallery | Hot rod heaven

POMONA, Calif. — From an outsider's perspective, it would be easy to assume that the Grand National Roadster Show has always been a Southern California institution. After all, it celebrates the diverse postwar car culture of the region — hot rods, lead sleds, lowriders, and more. However, the show had its roots in NorCal in 1950 when Al Slonaker and his hot rod club showed their custom cars at the Oakland Expo. The GNRS moved to Pomona, California, in 2004. By then it had grown exponentially and seen about a dozen more car customization trends come and go. However, the show and its centerpiece award, the America's Most Beautiful Roadster prize, celebrate what is perhaps the first of those trends: the American hot rod in its purest form. Today, in its 73rd year, the GNRS is the oldest indoor car show in America. Annually it welcomes 500-800 cars, gathered into special themes like Tri-Five Chevys or Volkswagen Bugs. At this year's show, which was last weekend, a special hall was dedicated to pickup trucks built between 1948-98, including mini-trucks, groovy camper bed conversions, and resto-mods.  However, of all the vehicles presented, only nine are eligible for the America's Most Beautiful Roadster award. Winners get their names engraved on a 9-foot-tall perpetual trophy that was, according to The Ultimate Hot Rod Dictionary, the largest in the world when it debuted in 1950. Slonaker chose the word "roadster" initially because "hot rod" bore slightly negative outlaw connotations in 1950. Only American cars built before 1937 of certain body styles — roadsters, roadster pickups, phaetons, touring cars — are eligible, and they cannot have roll-down side windows.  Cars in the running for the cup cannot have been shown anywhere else before their debut at the GNRS.  Contestants for this accolade essentially build their cars to the a platonic ideal of a hot rod. This year the honors went to Jack Chisenhall of San Antonio, Texas, for his "Champ Deuce," a 1932 Ford Roadster. It's exactly what you picture when you think of a hot rod, but distilled to its absolute essence.  Other standouts included "Green Eyes," a two-tone green 1959 Chevy El Camino  with a heavily metal-flaked bed, "Blue Monday," a 1964 Buick Riviera lowrider, and a personal favorite, "Purple Reign," a purple and black 1951 Mercury. Cars may have started out as tools, but there aren't shows like this filled with custom refrigerators.

Gordon Murray, F1-driven production and .. the Pontiac Fiero

Gordon Murray's design and engineering chops are unquestionable. But does his carmaking approach owe something to the short-lived Pontiac Fiero, a scrappy little car program that emerged from GM against serious resistance? Murray had a Formula One career that ran from 1969 to 1991, with stints at Brabham ('69 to '86) and McLaren ('87-'91), that resulted in several shelves' worth of trophies for the cars he was instrumental in designing. He moved on to McLaren Cars, the consumer side of things, where, during his tenure from 1991 to 2004, he helped design the McLaren F1 and the Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren, two cars that took learnings from his two decades in Formula One. What do all of these cars have in common? Three things: They are light. They were built in limited numbers. And they were (and are) exceedingly expensive—when the McLaren F1 debuted in 1994, it stickered at $815,000. Murray went on to establish Gordon Murray Design in 2007. GMD has created some interesting concept vehicles, such as the diminutive T.25 city car (94.5 inches long, 51.1 inches wide and 55.1 inches high), and the OX, a lightweight truck for the developing world that packs like an IKEA shelf and is working toward realization through a worthy crowdfunding campaign established by the Global Vehicle Trust. Now he has created a vehicle manufacturing company, Gordon Murray Automotive, that will use manufacturing methods that he developed under the moniker "iStream." Unlike a unibody, there are the "iFrame," a cage-like construction made with metallic components, and the "iPanels," which are composite. The panels aren't simply a decorative skin; they actually provide structure to the vehicle. Presumably this has something of the F1 monocoque about it. Going back to the three elements, (1) this arrangement results in a vehicle that can be comparatively light; (2) Murray has indicated that his manufacturing company will be doing limited-run production; and (3) to launch Gordon Murray Automotive they are going to be building a flagship model, about which Murray said, "With our first new car, we will demonstrate a return to the design and engineering principles that have made the McLaren F1 such an icon." Which seems to imply that it will be on the pricey side. According to the company's verbiage, "iStream forges an entirely new production method that defies conventionality with its Formula One-derived construction and materials technologies." It also sounds a whole lot like ...

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.