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Burt Reynolds' personal 1977 Trans-Am from Smokey And The Bandit for sale

Smokey and the Bandit is one of those quintessential 1970s car movies with insane premises but tons of fun. After all, the basic plot of the film is about distracting the police to transport cases of Coors beer cross country. While Burt Reynolds receives top billing, the real star is definitely his black Pontiac Trans-Am. Now, there's a chance to posses one of these muscle machines actually owned by Reynolds, and it's already proving quite popular. The car is a '77 Trans-Am with the famous, gold screaming chicken proudly on the hood. However, while this is a piece of Reynolds memorabilia, it's not really part of cinematic history. According to the listing, this example was used as a promotional vehicle and then given to Reynolds with a title showing him as a previous owner for proof. Still, there's 400-cubic-inch (6.55-liter) V8 under the hood with a 4-barrel carburetor and an automatic transmission. A plaque inside the driver's door proclaims the car as a "1977 Pontiac Trans Am Owned By Burt Reynolds," and there's a Bandit logo on the door. This is just one lot of Julien Auction's sale of Reynolds memorabilia on December 11 and 12 at The Palms Casino Resort in Las Vegas, NV. Bidding is already running online, and the Trans-Am is up to $130,000, as of this writing. For the true Reynolds fanatic, the auction also lists the motorized stagecoach from his wedding to Loni Anderson. It rides built on an International Harvester Scout frame with an interior reportedly from Dolly Parton.

Junkyard Gem: 1980 Pontiac Phoenix LJ Hatchback

The car-building world was rushing headlong into front-wheel-drive by the late 1970s, eager to reap the weight-saving and space-enhancing benefits of front-drive designs. General Motors designed an innovative FWD platform to replace the embarrassingly outdated Chevrolet Nova and its siblings, and that ended up being the Chevrolet Citation. The other US-market GM car divisions (except Cadillac) got a piece of the X-Body action, and the Pontiac version was called the Phoenix. Here's one of those first-year Phoenixes, not doing a very good job of rising from its snow-covered ashes in a Colorado self-service yard. Pontiac had used the Phoenix name on a luxed-up iteration of Pontiac's version of the Chevy Nova during the 1977-1979 model years, and so it made sense to apply that name to the Pontiac-ized Citation. Phoenix production continued through the 1984 model year (the Citation managed to hang on through 1985). Just to confuse everyone, the Nova name was revived in 1985, on a NUMMI-built Toyota Corolla. The LJ trim level was the nicest one for the 1980 Phoenix, and it included lots of trim upgrades and convenience features. However, even Phoenix LJ buyers had to pay extra for a three-speed automatic transmission instead of the base four-on-the-floor manual ($337, or about $1,291 in 2022 dollars). If you wanted air conditioning, that was another $564 and you had to get the $164 power steering and the $76 power brakes with it (total cost in 2022 dollars: $3,080). Affordable cars weren't so affordable back then, not once you started adding basic options. Both generations of the Phoenix had grilles influenced by those of the Pontiacs of earlier years. The base engine was the chugging 2.5-liter Iron Duke four-cylinder, but a 2.8-liter V6 was optional. This car has the V6, rated at 115 horsepower rather than the Duke's miserable 90 horses. The price tag: 225 bucks, or 862 inflation-adjusted 2022 bucks. The Phoenix was available just as a two-door coupe and five-door hatchback. The MSRP on this car would have started at $6,127, or around $23,469 now. That would have been a pretty good deal even after paying for the options, with the Phoenix's excellent mix of good interior space and solid fuel economy… but the Citation and its kin (the Oldsmobile Omega and Buick Skylark as well as the Phoenix) suffered from seemingly endless, highly publicized recalls and quality problems.

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.