1963 Pontiac Lemans Pro Street. 455-60-over Butler Al. Heads H Beam Rods 9in on 2040-cars

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This Auto Aerobics car art ties our brains in knots like pretzels

We like cars, and we like art. Naturally, Chris Labrooy's Auto Aerobics series - computer-generated images of some seriously contorted 1968 Pontiac Bonnevilles floating in mid-air - instantly clicked with us. If the Pontiacs weren't floating or hollow, we could be fooled into believing the image is real. But where's the fun in that?
Check out the gallery we included of Labrooy's Bonneville art, and feel free too head over to his website for some Formula One humor.

Why Pontiac should come back and how it can be relevant again

When I was a kid growing up in Metro Detroit, our family was always entwined in the General Motors empire. My dad and some of our relatives worked for GM in various capacities, and we had our fair share of Chevrolet, GMC, and even Buick products in our humble driveway. However, it was my Uncle Ed that always had a vehicle from the one GM brand that always appealed to me the most: Pontiac. Seeing him pull up in his Pontiac 6000 and later the '90s era Grand Prix sedan that replaced it was always an exciting occasion, and both of these models also reflected the playful spirit that once defined the Pontiac brand. Back when Pontiac first got its performance groove on in the '60s, names such as GTO, Firebird, as well as Bonneville became iconic nameplates in the broader muscle car era. The '80s saw Pontiac lose some of its styling heritage, but also try new things at the same time including turbocharging as well as the mid-engine sports car with the flawed but still sleek Pontiac Fiero. When the Pontiac brand was shuttered in 2009, it was a mere few years after I earned my drivers license, and also when Pontiac was just beginning to regain some of its lost luster. Granted cookie cutter efforts like the Pontiac G3, (Chevrolet Aveo) G5, (Chevrolet Cobalt) and G6 (Chevrolet Malibu) certainly did not help matters during Pontiac's final years on the market, but two models in particular offered a compelling glimpse into what could've been for the storied brand. The first was the Pontiac Solstice roadster/coupe. Originally introduced as a concept back in 2004, and championed by everyone's fighter jet flying auto executive Bob Lutz, the Solstice was designed to be a serious competitor to the Mazda Miata, and while its interior ergonomics were flawed and the top solution not ideal. It proved to be a fun little car to drive, and also a sales success for Pontiac with initial demand exceeding expectations.This was especially due to its lineup of engines with the 2.0 liter LHU turbocharged four-cylinder engine delivering 260 horsepower in GXP variants. The second and (inarguably my favorite Pontiac model) was the Pontiac G8 sedan. Originating in Australia as the Holden Commodore VE, the G8 was designed to rectify the multitude of sins created by the last generation Bonneville. Front wheel drive was pitched in favor of rear wheel drive, and for the first time in a long time interior ergonomics and cladding free exterior styling were key building blocks for success.

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.