1973 Pontiac Firebird Ta Clone 5.7l on 2040-cars

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This 1927 Oakland is a minimalist hot rod

There are hundreds of American automakers that sprung up during the dawn of the automotive era, only to fold into obscurity or get gobbled up by what would eventually become the Big Four (yes, we're counting AMC here). Oakland is one such company, which was the forbearer for General Motors' Pontiac division. Sold until 1931, you simply don't see Oakland-badged cars anymore. Unless, that is, you know Brian Bent.
Bent drives a 1927 Oakland that still rides on wooden wheels. Its original wooden wheels, from the sound of it. That makes this anachronist and his Oakland the perfect subject for a Petrolicious video. Like many of the cars highlighted by Petrolicious, this old Oakland has had some work done to it, featuring a Pontiac flathead engine that's been pushed forward and a clutch pack built by Bent.
Take a look below for a closer look at this rare and fascinating Oakland.

Pontiac Aztek enjoys rebirth thanks to Millennials

Apparently, Millennials – those between 18 and 34 – aren't afraid to look different on the road, and they like performance, too. A new study by Edmunds is discovering some surprising vehicle choices by this group. Among them, the long-derided Pontiac Aztek is getting a new day in the sun with 25.5 percent its buyers coming from this generation in the first half of 2015. For comparison, Millennials represent an average of 16.8 percent of used car purchases. The Aztek is slowly shaking its reputation as a styling abomination, which seems tied to its appearance on Breaking Bad. The show premiered in 2008, and the Pontiac has been on this list for four of the past five years, according to Edmunds. It even led the pack in 2010. A recent Retro Review from MotorWeek also showed that the crossover wasn't always so hated. While it's still a shock to see the Aztek on any popularity list, the awkward-looking crossover only ranks sixth among Millennials. The vehicle with the biggest portion of buyers from the generation is the Dodge Magnum with 27.6 percent. According to Edmunds, the bluntly styled wagon is especially popular in Detroit and Chicago. The Chrysler Pacifica comes in a close second at 27.3 percent. When it comes to used cars, value and utility appear to trump just about anything else for many Millennial buyers," Edmunds analyst Jeremy Acevedo said in the report. Young buyers aren't afraid of sporty rides, either. The Subaru WRX has 26.4 percent Millennial buyers to rank third place on the list, and the Volkswagen R32 takes fifth at 25.7 percent. Just a few points lower in seventh place is the Nissan GT-R at 25.4 percent, and the final performance machine in 10th place is the Lexus IS-F with 24.7 percent. Related Video:

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.