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Watch this garbage truck consume a Pontiac Grand Am

When an old car or truck offers its dying breath in your driveway and you just don't have the financial or mechanical wherewithal to resuscitate it yet again, you traditionally have to go to the trouble of calling a flatbed or a tow truck to come haul it away. That usually helps to put a few bucks in your wallet and helps recycle some of the vehicle's parts, but the transaction doesn't seem as final or perversely satisfying as the dispatch service that this New Way Cobra Magnum garbage truck offers.
Okay, okay, so this refuse hauler isn't actually designed for this sort of thing, but it's oddly comforting to know that a sanitation truck can compact a hapless Pontiac Grand Am into oblivion. Next time, we won't feel so guilty about slipping that rusty charcoal grille onto the curb next to the cans on garbage day. Watch the carnage by scrolling below.

Sell Your Own: 2006 Pontiac GTO

This is part of an occasional look at cars for sale in Autoblog's classifieds. Want to sell your car? We make it easy and free. Quickly create listings with up to six photos and reach millions of buyers. Log in and create your free listings. In the early '60s, Baby Boomers born immediately after World War II were beginning to buy cars and enjoy their own distinctive music. This wasn't yet the drug culture; rather, it was the drag culture, more Jan and Dean "Dead Man's Curve" than Beatles "Lucy In The Sky." And a Baby Boomer's desired ride, more often than not, was Pontiac's GTO. Introduced as a manned-up option for Pontiac's compact Tempest, the early GTO was 389 cubic inches of romp and stomp. And with a marketing campaign that hit Middle America via what it watched and ate (TV ads and cereal-box promos were a big part of the GTO launch), there was no escaping it. Like most performance coupes and convertibles, 10 years later it was became an emasculated version of its once lusty self. And then it was gone. Its revival, championed by General Motors executive Bob Lutz, was not by any stretch the Second Coming. Starting in 2004, GM modified its Australian-built Holden Monaro to approximate the excitement of the original formula: a coupe body propelled by a big V8. But the Holden's sheetmetal was quietly styled, and even the 400 horsepower available by 2006 didn't electrify buyers. With hindsight, the resurrected GTO is enjoying more attention and, slowly but surely, increasing in value. This for-sale example shows well, enjoys low mileage, and is – naturally – priced well above what is perceived to be its market value. Related Video: This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings.

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.