1966 Pontiac Gto 389 on 2040-cars

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This or That: 2005 Chrysler Crossfire SRT6 vs. 1984 Pontiac Fiero

Welcome to another round of This or That, where two Autoblog editors pick a topic, pick a side and pull no punches. Last round pitted yours truly against Associate Editor Brandon Turkus, and my chosen VW Vanagon Syncro narrowly defeated Brandon's 1987 Land Rover. In fact, it was, by far, the closest round we've seen, with 1,907 voters seeing things my way (for 50.8 percent of the vote) versus 1,848 votes for Brandon's Rover (49.2 percent). Sweet, sweet victory! For this latest round of This or That, I've roped Editor Greg Migliore into what I think is a rather fun debate. We've each chosen our favorite terrible cars, setting a price limit of $10,000 to make sure neither of us went too crazy with our automotive atrocities. I think we've both chosen terribly... and I mean that in the best way possible. 2005 Chrysler Crossfire SRT6 Jeremy Korzeniewski: Why It's Terrible: Taken in isolation, the Chrysler Crossfire isn't necessarily a terrible car. In fact, it drives pretty darn well, and there's a lot of solid engineering under its slinky shape. Problem is, that engineering was already rather long in the tooth well before Chrysler ever got its hands on it, having come from Mercedes-Benz, which used the basic chassis and drivetrain in a previous version of its SLK coupe and roadster. Granted, the SLK was an okay car, too, but even when new, it hardly set the world on fire with sporty driving dynamics. Chrysler took these decent-but-no-more bits and pieces from the Mercedes parts bin – remember, this car was conceived in the disastrous Merger Of Equals days – and covered them with a rather attractive hard-candy shell. Unfortunately, the super sporty shape wrote checks in the minds of buyers that its well-worn mechanicals were simply unable to cash, though an injection of power courtesy of a supercharged V6 engine in the SRT6 model, as seen here, certainly helped ease some of those woes. In the end, Chrysler was left with a so-called halo car that looked the part but never quite performed the part. It was almost universally panned by critics as an overpriced parts-bin special, which, I must add, was damningly accurate. As a result, sales were very slow, and within the first few months, dealers were clearancing the car at cut-rate prices, just to keep them from taking up too much of the showroom floor. Why It's Not That Terrible, After All: I can speak from personal experience when discussing the Chrysler Crossfire. You see, I owned one. Well, sort of...

1970 Firebird Trans-Am with front-mid-engine to be immortalized as a Hot Wheels car

Each year, the Hot Wheels Legends Tour scours the country to find the coolest real-life cars and chooses one to be made into a $1 diecast toy. Earlier this month, the search came to an end when Riley Stair's heavily modified 1970 Pontiac Firebird Trans-Am won the honors. In a normal year, the Hot Wheels Legends Tour would visit multiple cities, holding a car show where judges would select one winner for that stop. At SEMA, each city's winner would then compete for the top spot. However, due to the coronavirus pandemic, this year the contest was held virtually and globally. And since SEMA was canceled too, the finale was held on the "Jay Leno's Garage" YouTube channel with Leno, Snoop Dogg, Gabriel Iglesias, and Hot Wheels designers as judges. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. What set the Firebird apart was, for starters, its front-mid-engine layout. Its LSX V8 was pushed so far back into the firewall that one bank of exhaust headers had to flow forward before curving around the front of the engine to a side-dump. Of course, all of this was custom fabricated, like the roll cage and front tube frame, with professional-grade welds. The body was also heavily modified, flared and channeled to give it a mean stance. But it's the custom Ohlins suspension with independent rear that give it its track-ready look. Perhaps most impressively, this car, which could go toe-to-toe against (and frankly exceed many) six-figure pro builds at SEMA, was built in the side yard of Stair's parents' house. Aside from body and paint, this was a shadetree job. Stair says it took a couple of years, devoting nearly every night and weekend to transforming a rusty and dented Firebird into his dream machine. Other finalists included a Street Freak-style 1969 Corvette from Florida, cartoony 1959 Chevy Ute nicknamed the "Hulk-amino", Rocket Bunny-style Cayman, 1,000-horsepower Chevy Apache, V8-powered Mini Cooper, stanced Fiat 126 from Germany, chopped VW Brasilia from Mexico, and a race-ready 1976 Hillman Imp from the U.K. Cars were judged on creativity, authenticity, and built-not-bought spirit. Look for the Trans-Am to appear in the 2021 Hot Wheels lineup. Related Video:   Featured Gallery Hot Wheels Legends Tour 2020 View 16 Photos Toys/Games Pontiac Coupe Performance Classics

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.