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Camaro-based Trans Am SE Bandit Edition borrows Burt Reynolds

For some reason, modifying modern Chevrolet Camaros into the lurching, reincarnated shells of the Pontiac brand is still a thing. If you're the perverse sort that likes this kind of thing, you should check out the latest product from the Trans Am Depot, which comes complete with an endorsement from the star of Smokey and the Bandit, Burt Reynolds. Yes, the new Trans Am SE Bandit Edition has been signed and endorsed by the man himself, but what's important here is not the signature on the dash, it's the bits of Camaro that have been modified. Aesthetically, that means a Bandit-and-Frog-approved set of T-tops, a front-opening hood with a very large, prominent shaker scoop, an equally large and prominent screaming chicken, and Trans Am-inspired front and rear fascias. And naturally, Burt Reynolds' signature adorns the dash. There are plenty of reminders in the cabin about this car's Hollywood inspiration, too. Bandit decals can be found on the front headrests and center console lid, there are chicken wings on the Camaro-spec plastic door inserts, and the black-and-tan color scheme matches nicely with the exterior look. And power? Well, Sheriff Buford T. Justice would have a lot more trouble keeping up with this Trans Am than he did with the original. The 7.4-liter LSX V8 has been paired with a 2.9-liter supercharger which is good for 840 horsepower. It's fast and loud, and even if you can't get behind the look (we can't), at least this Camaro-in-Trans Am's clothing can impress with its performance. The Bandit Edition is limited to just 77 units with prices starting around $115,000. You can check out the official video from Trans Am Depot, which comes with a decent helping of Burt Reynolds, up top. Related Video:

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.

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.