1969 Pontiac Gto Convertible on 2040-cars

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Hurst Edition Trans Am proves the Screaming Chicken will rise from the ashes

It seems the Pontiac Trans Am steadfastly refuses to die. Ever since Chevrolet was granted a retrofied Camaro to compete with the Ford Mustang, Pontiac lovers have lamented the loss of this 1970s icon. And, looking at the Hurst Edition from Trans Am Depot, shown here at the 2012 SEMA Show, may explain what all the fuss is about.
It's not going to appeal to everyone's muscle-car tastes, but there's certainly room for a brash-and-bold black-and-gold Special Edition in many a Trans Am lover's garage. After all, if you want the keys to a custom pony car, you'll certainly get noticed in this one. If this scheme isn't your bag,, you can alternatively order your Hurst Edition in white and gold or silver and black. Oh, and don't forget a color-coordinated Screaming Chicken on the hood.
No matter which way you choose to go, your inner Burt Reynolds will appreciate the Eibach suspension kit, forged wheels with Pirelli PZero tires, functional shaker hood, fender air extractors, rear spoiler and, of course, a Hurst shifter inside. The interior is emblazoned with all manner of special touches, including a Hurst dash plate and T/A stitching on the Katzkin two-tone leather seats.

Burt Reynolds' old Pontiac Trans Am replica sold for $317,500

Following Burt Reynolds' passing last September, Julien's Auctions held an estate sale of the late actor's property on June 15-16 in Beverly Hills, Calif. Hundreds of items were included in the auction, but none more valuable than the Pontiac Trans Am Bandit replica previously owned by Reynolds. It easily surpassed expectations when it sold for $317,500. Julien's, the self-proclaimed experts in contemporary and pop culture, listed 876 pieces in the sale, from cowboy boots to a driver's license to scripts. The online preview said it estimated a range of prices from $25 to $200,000. They were way off. Item No. 716 was a replica of a Pontiac Trans Am Bandit that was seen in the original "Smokey and the Bandit." Not the real car, just a re-creation. But its value comes more from who owned the ride rather than what the car was. The replica was owned by Reynolds for some years, and now that he's passed, it's coveted even more. It's not the only Trans Am item that sold at auction. Three Reynolds Trans Am model cars sold for $640, $576 and $512. A Reynolds-signed "Bandit" poster sold for $3,200. A Reynolds-signed poster from the Trans Am plant sold for $1,562.50, a Reynolds custom-built Trans Am office desk sold for $4,375, and a "Smokey and the Bandit" decorative etched glass panel sold for $896. This isn't the first time a Bandit replica has sold for big money. In 2016, a promotional Trans Am sold at a Barrett-Jackson auction for $550,000. We also believe the exact car sold in this Julien's auction was previously bought at a Barrett-Jackson auction in 2018 for $192,500. If that's the case, somebody just made an extremely easy profit.

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.