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'67 Chevy Corvair convertible vs. '86 Pontiac Fiero in cult classic showdown

Every few a decades, the folks running General Motors lose their minds briefly try to market a car that public doesn't see coming and often aren't ready for. In the '60s there was the rear-engine, air-cooled Chevrolet Corvair, then the mid-engine Pontiac Fiero in the '80s and the completely bizarre Chevy SSR in the 2000s. What all of these had in common was that they bucked the trend for American models of their era, for better or worse. The latest episode of Generation Gap tasked the hosts with finding two cult classic vehicles to choose between; they came come up with two of these quirky products from The General.
On the classic side, there's a 1967 Chevy Corvair Monza convertible. Being from later in the production run, it wears slightly more aerodynamic styling than the earlier, boxier examples. Hanging out back is an air-cooled, 2.7-liter flat-six pumping out a robust 95 horsepower. In the other corner is the somewhat more modern 1986 Pontiac Fiero SE with a mid-mounted, 2.5-liter "Iron Duke" four-cylinder, an engine nearly ubiquitous in GM cars of the '80s.
Judging by when they were new, the Corvair was far more successful than the Fiero with over 1.8 million sold. Of course, Ralph Nader's book Unsafe at Any Speed kind of poisoned the well, even if the poor safety reputation wasn't entirely deserved. The Fiero on the other hand only lasted for a few model years before shuffling off, but it eventually got its own performance boost with the V6 version and rather attractive GT models. Check them both out in the video and tell us in Comments which you want in your garage.

This GTO-El Camino mashup is the muscle truck of our dreams

There were a hell of a lot of great muscle cars in the mid-1960s, from the baroque Dodges and Plymouths of the earlier part of the decade to the wild big boys like the Boss 429 and Olds 442 W30. Right in the middle of the decade, two of the most iconic of the bunch emerged — the Pontiac GTO and second-generation Chevy El Camino. And this one is a 1964 Chevy El Camino with the heart and face of its GTO cousin, and dubbed the El Chieftain GTO. It's currently for sale at RM Sotheby's Auburn auction, with no reserve status or estimate listed. This looks like a product that Pontiac could have sold at the time — its builder, Ron Lindeman, did an excellent job making it look like a factory product, right down to the taillight strakes inspired by the GTO. It's powered by a 389 — a Pontiac motor that was actually found in period GTOs, but sporting a single four-barrel instead of the sexy Tri-Power setup. It is, however, equipped with a Hurst four-speed manual and the grille badge to prove it to bystanders. Even the interior is made up to look like a GTO. We wish there was more of a description of the build in the listing, but if you love it, do us one better and buy the thing and invite us to poke around it. We are very much in love with this muscle-truck mashup. Related Video: Featured Gallery 1964 Chevrolet El Camino "El Chieftain GTO" News Source: RM Sotheby's Pontiac Auctions Car Buying Truck Performance Classics

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.