1966 Pontiac Bonneville Base 6.4l on 2040-cars

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This 1988 Pontiac Grand Prix Daytona 500 pace car could be yours

Hopefully, the fans of GM's W-body '80s/'90s intermediates can forgive us, but we had pretty much forgotten — or had never really known — that one of the ways that era's Pontiac Grand Prix bathed itself in glory was by serving as the pace car for the Daytona 500. In fact, the Grand Prix paced NASCAR's marquee race every year from 1988 to 1992, and again in 1997, 1998, 2000 and 2003. That first year, 1988, the Grand Prix was all-new, making its debut on the W-body platform. It was also Motor Trend's car of the year. The 1988 Daytona 500 marked the 17th year in a row that a Pontiac was chosen to set the pace but the first time a front-wheel-drive car was so honored. The '88 Grand Prix followed a spate of Pontiac Trans Ams. This '88 Grand Prix, for sale right now on eBay Motors, is presented as an actual pace car, although fans could order a complete set of pace car decals for their very own GP. The pace car is based on that year's top-spec Grand Prix, the SE. In place of the standard car's 2.8-liter V6, however, the pace car uses a modified 3.1-liter V6, which is hooked to a five-speed manual transmission. This Grand Prix is otherwise largely standard fare excepting the roof-mounted light bar, the switches for which are located next to the radio. The mechanical odometer tucked into the digital instrument cluster shows just over 5,000 miles, and presumably, not all of them were acquired on the high-banked oval. With four days to go in the auction, bidding sits at $4,000 with the reserve unmet. Although the reserve is unknown, one clue is that this Grand Prix had been listed by a classic-car dealership in Pennsylvania for $18,500. Besides the debut of the W-body Grand Prix pace car, the 1988 race is also notable for its final lap: Bobby Allison held off his son, Davey Allison, to take the checkered flag, with the father-son duo enjoying a 1-2 finish. Now, who wants to re-live those Grand Prix glory days? Get on your Pontiac and ride!   This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings.

Junkyard Gem: 1984 Pontiac Fiero with supercharged 3800 V6 swap

Like the Corvair, the Vega, and the Citation, the Pontiac Fiero was a very innovative machine that ended up causing General Motors more headaches than happiness, and Fiero aficionados and naysayers continue to beat each other with tire irons (figuratively speaking, I hope) to this day. The General has often proved willing to take the occasional big gamble and huge GM successes in engineering prowess (including the first overhead-valve V8 engine for the masses and the first real-world-usable true automatic transmission) and marketing brilliance (e.g., the Pontiac GTO and related John DeLorean home runs) meant that the idea of a mid-engined sporty economy car (or economical sports car) got a shot from the suits on the 14th floor. Sadly, the Fiero ended up being the marketplace victim of too many issues to get into here, and The General pulled the plug immediately after the 1988-model-year suspension redesign that made the Fiero the sports car it should have been all along. But what if the plastic Pontiac had never suffered from the misery of the gnashy, pokey Iron Duke engine and had been built from the start with a screaming supercharged V6 making way better than 200 horsepower? The final owner of today's Junkyard Gem sought to make that very Fiero, by dropping in one of the many supercharged 3.8-liter V6s installed in 1990s and 2000s GM factory hot rods. The first Fieros came out in 1983 for model year 1984, and the only engine available that year was the Iron Duke 2.5-liter four-cylinder, which generated its 92 horsepower with the full-throated song of a Soviet tractor stuck in the freezing mud of a Polish sugar-beet field. The 2M4 badging stood for "two seats, mid-engine, four cylinders," just as the numbers in the Oldsmobile 4-4-2 once represented "four carburetor barrels, four-speed manual transmission, dual exhaust." This car is a top-trim-level SE model, which listed for $9,599 (about $24,200 today). The no-frills Fiero cost just $7,999 that year, making these cars far cheaper than the only other reasonably affordable new mid-engined car Americans could buy at that time: the $13,990 Bertone (aka Fiat) X1/9. The Toyota MR2 appeared in North America as a 1985 model with a base price of $10,999 and promptly siphoned off the car-buying cash from a bunch of potential Fiero shoppers.

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.