1969 Pontiac Firebird Base Convertible 2-door 4.1l on 2040-cars

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Porsche still deciding on one or two new 911 plug-in hybrids

Back in March, Porsche CEO Oliver Blume told Autocar that the coming Porsche 911 plug-in hybrid "will be the most powerful 911 we've ever had." That quote portended a 992-series 911 with 700 horsepower or more. A new report in Auto Express, however, suggests Porsche is having energetic debates about just what the 911's hybrid strategy will be, and that the only agreed-upon plug-in hybrid 911 so far is a milder version to sit in the middle of the range. Putting all our rumors in a row, in January, Automobile reported on an electrically-assisted 911 with 485 hp and 561 pound-feet of torque. The new AE piece effectively endorses that, saying the mid-range hybrid would follow the program established by the all-wheel drive Cayenne e-Hybrid that produces a combined 455 hp and 516 lb-ft. The 911 would naturally use a flat-six instead of the Cayenne's 3.0-liter V6, and the sports car would be tuned for better sound response and sharper reflexes. AE says fuel economy for this hybrid should be at least 80 eMPG, with emissions of less than 80 grams per kilometer. The current base Carrera is currently rated at a maximum 38.2 mpg in the UK, with minimum emissions of 169 g/km. The hybrid, fitted with a double-clutch gearbox and Porsche's mechanical all-wheel-drive system, could run from a stop to 62 miles per hour in less than four seconds, making it more efficient than a base Carrera and much faster than a Carrera 4S. AE says there remains only "the potential for Porsche to add a second, more powerful hybrid 911," and says its sources claim that's what's "causing the most consternation behind closed doors." This one would be the twin-turbocharged, 700-hp beastie that, as a series production car, would have a hard time not usurping the 540-hp Turbo, 580-hp Turbo S, and 607-hp Turbo S Exclusive. True, the hybrid would be handicapped with a 550-pound battery pack, but the instant acceleration and handling benefits of electric AWD — with no connection between the axles — could provide the final edge over the other three. As such, it makes sense that there'd be a whole lot of debate about a flagship 911 hybrid. On the other hand, such a monster seems like an eventuality in view of Porsche's electrified aspirations, the lessons gained from the 918 Hybrid and the 919 Hybrid Le Mans racer, and the fact that CEO Blume has already spoken. The Stuttgart carmaker expects a sales mix of 25 percent electric, 25 percent hybrid, and 50 percent conventional powertrains by 2025.

Wanted: 1967 Pontiac GTO for a special Father's Day

Jim Sharp of Elkhorn, Wisconsin needs a red 1967 Pontiac GTO to make his dad's Father's Day, possibly his last one, something extra special.
Back in the '60s, Jim's dad, Ken, drove a cherry red 1967 GTO to California for a job. He met a girl, got married and decided his wife's 1965 Ford Mustang was more fuel efficient than the Goat and the GTO was sold. As the story almost always goes, Ken has had seller's regret ever since.
Jim always meant to find a 1967 GTO and, with his dad's help, restore it. But life got in the way, time slipped by and Ken was recently diagnosed with esophageal cancer and given about three months to live.

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.