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Burt Reynolds Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am sells for $450k

Apparently, there's still a lot of love out there for by Burt Reynolds and his famous role in Smokey and the Bandit – or at least for his car. As you might remember, Autoblog reported on the auction of the 1977 Pontiac Trans Am a few week ago. At the time, the movie star's car was already well past its $80,000 top estimate, and bidding only shot up from there for a final price of $450,000. That seems like a lot of money for a Trans Am that never actually appears in Smokey and the Bandit. According to the listing, the car was used to promote the film and was given to Reynolds afterward with his name on the title as proof of ownership. The Trans Am looks practically identical to the one in the movie with black paint, the gold firebird on the hood and Bandit name on the driver's door. This one packs a 400-cubic-inch (6.6-liter) V8 with a 4-barrel carburetor under the hood, an automatic transmission and a plaque inside the door that proclaims "1977 Pontiac Trans Am Owned By Burt Reynolds." The wedding stagecoach based on an International Harvester Scout we mentioned in the earlier story also beat its top estimate of $20,000. It went for $34,375, according to the auction house's website, and in total the sale raised about $2.5 million. Scroll down to read the full announcement from Julien's Auctions. LEGENDARY STAR BURT REYNOLDS PROVES TO BE AS ICONIC AS HIS AUCTION RESULTS "Smokey and the Bandit" Trans Am Sells for $450,000 Career Memorabilia including Awards, Personal Items and Film Worn Costumes along with Vast Art Collection from Reynolds Museum Caliber Private Collection Featured at Julien's Auctions This Week Brings in $2.5 million Las Vegas, Nevada – (December 15, 2014) – Julien's Auctions, the auction house to the stars concluded a whirlwind two-day auction of The Collection of Award Winning Actor Burt Reynolds. The exciting auction event featuring personal effects, career memorabilia, and a museum-caliber fine art collection took place at the Palms Casino Resort Thursday and Friday with bidders from around the world bidding high and bidding often. Burt Reynolds, best known as a leading film star, has had a storied career both on the big and small screen. Aside from his award winning portrayals of some of the world's most iconic characters in film and television, Reynolds is also a businessman who has owned a football team, a dinner theatre, a working ranch and even a museum.

Junkyard Gem: 1968 Pontiac Catalina sedan

During the late 1960s, General Motors ruled the American car landscape, growing so dominant that the federal government considered antitrust action to break up the company. The General offered sporty Corvettes and muscular GTOs and rugged pickups and opulent Fleetwoods, sure, but the fat part of the sales numbers came from the bread-and-butter full-sized sedans and coupes, which boasted superior engineering and modern-looking styling; in 1967 alone, the Chevrolet Division moved 972,600 full-sized cars, and that's not even counting the 155,100 full-sized Chevy station wagons that year. Pontiac, Buick and Oldsmobile sold the same big cars with division-specific engines and bodywork, and they flew off the showroom floors. For 1968, the entry-level full-sized car from Pontiac was the Catalina, and I've found an example of the most affordable version of the most affordable big Pontiac for 1968, discarded in a northeastern Colorado wrecking yard about 50 miles south of Cheyenne, Wyoming. A '68 GM full-sized coupe, convertible, or even a four-door hardtop might be worth the cost and effort of a restoration, but a no-options base-trim-level post sedan with rust and plenty of body filler just won't get many takers these days. Like so many vehicles that sit outside for decades on the High Plains, this one is full of rodent nests. I wouldn't want to work on the interior of this car without a respirator and a lot of work with a shop-vac, because hantavirus is a significant danger in these parts. Alfred Sloan's plan to offer a stepladder of prestige for GM buyers, in which your first new car was a Chevrolet and you moved up through Pontiac, Oldsmobile, and Buick until you became sufficiently prosperous for Cadillac ownership, worked brilliantly for decades. In 1968, the Catalina was a notch above its Impala sibling on the Snob-O-Meter, with the sedan starting at $3,004 (about $22,600 in 2019 dollars). In fact, the V8-equipped 1968 Chevrolet Impala sedan listed at $3,033, and the Oldsmobile Delmont 88 went for $3,146, so the lines were beginning to blur between the relative positions of the lower-end GM divisions by this time. The base engine in the 1968 Catalina was a 400-cubic-inch (6.5 liter) V8 rated at 265 horsepower and enough torque to tow an aircraft carrier.

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.