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Junkyard Gem: 2002 Pontiac Aztek

The General's Pontiac Division sold the Aztek for the 2001 through 2005 model years, and — despite enjoying something of a cultural rebirth in recent years — it is generally considered to be one of the worst cars of all time. The idea of using a minivan platform as the basis for a rough-and-tough-looking crossover with plenty of outdoor-lifestyle amenities wasn't the problem, since many vehicle manufacturers have printed bales of money using that formula. What doomed the Aztek was its hideous appearance and sticker price too lofty for its underemployed-at-the-time Generation X target demographic. Still, the Aztek proved to be perfectly suited for the outdoor activities that Coloradans love: hiking, camping, fishing, skiing, hauling mud-caked golden retrievers around, etc., and so you'll still find lots of Azteks on the roads of the Centennial State. Here's an Aztek Yellow Aztek (yes, that's really the paint color's official title) residing just a few rows from a '76 Checker Taxicab in a Denver self-service yard. Sure, it does look like a vehicle built to the specifications of a six-year-old who decreed a mashup between a Datsun F-10 and a Fisher-Price Little People Travel Together Airplane, but so what? There's a built-in air compressor to blow up your inflatable rafts and volleyballs, a tent attachment that turns the rear of the van into a camper, 12-volt power plugs all over the vehicle (years before this became commonplace on ordinary minivans and SUVs), and running-gear commonality with a jillion Ventures, Silhouettes, Montanas and Trans Sports. Buick managed to de-uglify the Aztek (somewhat) and sold it as the Rendezvous through 2007, but the Aztek never could win over many people with this face. I see plenty of Azteks and Rendezvouses in Denver-area wrecking yards, and I've documented a handful over the years. This one came fully loaded from the factory, with the Corvette-style heads-up display in full effect. The center console was a removable cooler, which was a great idea Â… except for the fact that this cooler holds five standard 12-ounce cans. Michigan residents tell me that this must have been intentional on the part of the Detroit-based Aztek designers, because Michiganders are expected to chug one beer out of a sixer as they walk from the liquor store to the car in the parking lot Â… which makes me extra cautious whenever I'm driving in the Wolverine State.

Junkyard Gem: 1980 Pontiac Grand Prix LJ

A couple of years before John DeLorean and his team at the Pontiac Division created the GTO by pasting a big engine and some gingerbread on the LeMans, they created a rakish, powerful coupe based on the staid full-size Catalina. This was the 1962 Pontiac Grand Prix, which sold like crazy and escalated the personal luxury coupe war already brewing in Detroit. Starting with the 1969 model year, the Grand Prix switched to a smaller chassis (shared the following year with the new Chevrolet Monte Carlo), and all subsequent rear-wheel-drive Grand Prix (that is, through 1987) remained siblings of the Monte. Today's Junkyard Gem is a rare 1980 Grand Prix LJ, found in a self-service yard near Reno, Nevada. Sure, a fresh round of Middle East conflict had put a kink in America's fuel hose in 1979, leading to gas lines and a general sense of malaise, but at least the new Grand Prix looked extra sharp for 1980. The LJ package came with all sorts of appearance and comfort goodies, including these "luxury seats with loose-pillow design in New Florentine Cloth." A Pontiac Phoenix LJ was available as well. These seats must have been very comfortable when new. Who needed a Cadillac when Pontiac would sell you this car at a base MSRP of just $7,000 (about $26,704 in 2023 dollars)? That price was what you paid if you were willing to get the base 3.8-liter Buick V6, though. To get a V8 engine with four-barrel carburetor, you had to pay extra. If you did pay the extra for a V8, which one you got depended on which state you lived in; in California, you got this 305-cubic-inch (5.0-liter Chevrolet small-block), and in the other 49 states you got a 301-cubic-inch (4.9-liter) Pontiac. The 305 was rated at 150 horsepower with 230 pound-feet; the 301 made 140hp and 240 lb-ft. This car was originally bought in California (the state line is about ten miles away from its final parking spot), so it has the Chevy engine. The V8 added $195 (plus $250 for the California-only emissions system) to the out-the-door price of the car, or about $1,316 in 2023 dollars. Outside of California, a 4.3-liter Chevy V6 was available for just 80 additional bucks ($305 now). All 1980 Grand Prix got a three-speed automatic transmission as standard equipment, with no manual available from the factory. This car has the optional air conditioning, which cost $601 ($2,293 after inflation). This is the "Custom Sport" steering wheel, which was standard on the LJ. The tilt option cost $81 ($309 today).

Looking Back At Oprah's Free-Car Giveaway 10 Years Later

Molly Vielweber's Pontiac G6 appears unremarkable at first glance. It wears forest green paint, rolls on five-spoke aluminum wheels, and it has a sizeable scrape in the driver's side door, the scar of a decade's worth of hard use. You wouldn't notice it parked at a big box store or cruising on the highway. Pontiac made hundreds of thousands of G6s in the 2000s, and a lot are still on the road. It's unremarkable in every way except for the front license plate, which reads, "Oprah 6." But this is not just any G6. This car is a part of television history. Vielweber won her G6 10 years ago at a taping of The Oprah Winfrey Show, when Oprah kicked off her 19th season in dramatic fashion by giving all 276 members of the studio audience a free car. It was an unprecedented stunt that changed lives, generated controversy and ultimately failed to provide enough of a marketing lift for Pontiac, which would be shuttered just over five years later. September 13 marks the 10-year anniversary of the memorable event, which caught everyone, including audience members, by surprise. In a masterful display of showmanship, Oprah dialed up the suspense to match the enormity – and cost – of the event. First she gave away 11 cars, which would have been a landmark TV promotion by itself. But then she coyly announced: "I've got a little twist." Models circulated throughout the audience carrying silver platters loaded with white boxes wrapped in red ribbon. One contained a set of keys, Oprah implied, for another audience member to win the final car. "Do not open it. Do not shake it," she commanded the crowd. Finally, with the suspense built to a fevered pitch, everyone opened their box. They all had keys. "You get a car! You get a car! You get a car! You get a car! Everybody gets a car!" Oprah exclaimed. "Everybody gets a car! Everybody gets a car!" This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Everybody did get a car. But not everyone kept it. William Toebe attended the show with his wife, Jillaine, and he immediately thought of the tax implications, which stretched to $6,000 or more for some audience members. It was a tough reality for many in the audience that day, some of which had been selected based on their need for a new car. "That responsible part of me stepped forward and wondered 'where am I going to get the money to pay the taxes?'" he recalled.