1966 Pontiac Gto on 2040-cars

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Pontiac could be a phoenix rising from the ashes

Of the deceased American car companies from the past 50 years such as Hummer, Mercury, Oldsmobile, Plymouth and Saturn, I believe the most worthy resurrection would be Pontiac. After all, it's no longer politically correct to drive an ex-military vehicle with single-digit gas mileage, nor do Millennials and Gen-Xers desire AARP-associated nameplates such as Mercury or Oldsmobile. Pontiac was originally founded in 1893 by Albert G. North and Harry G. Hamilton as the Pontiac Buggy Company, due to their location in Pontiac, Michigan. But as the early 1900s automotive revolution took off, they shifted their focus from horse-drawn carriages to motorized transportation. Taking a cue from Oakland County where they were based, they rebranded their organization as the Oakland Motor Company. Within a couple years, sales of Oakland cars were so good that it caught the attention of General Motors and they bought the company. In 1926, GM premiered the first Pontiac and its name drew inspiration from the legendary Native American War Chief, who was famous for the Battle of Bloody Run and opposition of British forces. His likeness was used in early promotional materials as well as the vehicle's emblem which was referred to simply as the "Indian Head". In 1956, the outdated emblem was replaced with a new, sleeker logo that resembled a red arrow head. It was known as "The Dart" and featured a singular star in the center which may have been a nod to Pontiac's successful Star Chief model. The 1960s saw the introduction of several popular models such as the GTO and the Firebird. The GTO was initially offered as an option package on the 1964 Tempest, and the name was the brainchild of John Delorean, who would later go on to form his own eponymous automobile company. The Firebird debuted in 1967 as a pony-car foil to Ford's award-winning Mustang. Although mechanically similar to Chevrolet's Camaro, the Firebird boasted a distinct sheetmetal nose and tail to help visually distinguish it. The 1980s were another adventurous time for Pontiac, and GM took advantage of the sales momentum by running a successful ad campaign. It proclaimed "We Build Excitement" and highlighted an arrangement with musicians Daryl Hall and John Oats. The fiery Fiero was a home-run for Pontiac and it was introduced in 1983 as an '84 model. Not only was it the first U.S. produced mid-engine sports coupe, but it also utilized lightweight, dent-resistant body panels.

Junkyard Gem: 1986 Pontiac Fiero 2M4

The mid-engined, plastic-bodied Pontiac Fiero two-seater caused great excitement when it hit the streets as a 1984 model, then became something of an embarrassment for GM when its design flaws became clear to the car-buying public. Still, when a V6 engine became available for 1985, followed by a fastback roof for 1986, the air of Pontiac Excitement around the Fiero lingered to a certain extent. We took a look at a discarded '86 Fiero GT with both the 2.8-liter V6 and the fastback body last year, and now we'll take a look at an example of the econo-commuter four-cylinder notchback version from the same year. Pontiac used the 2M4 designation (standing for two seats, mid-engine, four cylinders) on four-cylinder Fieros, while the six-cylinder cars were known as 2M6s. 2M4 decals went on four-banger Fieros for the 1984-1986 model years, while 2M6 decals seem to have been applied less consistently to the V6 cars of that period. During the early development period of the car that became the Fiero, the idea was that it would be a nimble sports car with a lightweight engine. Then the plan shifted, with the Fiero intended to be a gas-sipping commuter. When the car finally hit showrooms, it was a lot heavier than intended, it had a Chevy Citation front suspension in the back plus a Chevette front suspension, and its engine was the low-revving, weighty Iron Duke 2.5-liter straight-four. The Duke was about the least sports-car-appropriate four-cylinder engine The General could dredge up from his parts bins, but it was cheap and there was no shortage of production capacity. By the time the Fiero came out, the Iron Duke had been renamed the Tech 4. This one was rated at 92 horsepower and 132 pound-feet. The V6 Fieros get all the press today, but plenty of the Duked versions were sold (amazingly, the Chevrolet Camaro was available with Iron Duke power from 1982 through 1986). The emissions sticker tells us that this was a California-market car, rather than the "49-state" model the rest of the country got. California-specific emissions hardware added $99 to this car's price ($277 in 2023 dollars). While this car is a base model, the original buyer loaded it with options. The transmission is a three-speed automatic, priced at $465 (about $1,303 in 2023 dollars). A five-speed manual was standard equipment on the 1986 Fiero, though the old-fashioned four-speed manual was still available for a $50 credit ($140 now).

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.