1976 Pontiac Firebird Formula 400 - Spotless, Full Rebuilt Tuned Motor Zero Rust on 2040-cars

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This classic Firebird restomod swallowed a Prius

It takes an unusual eye to look at a 1967 Pontiac Firebird and see the Toyota Prius hidden inside. But that's just the kind of eye that a creative mechanic known online as "Bill the Engineer" has. Bill is updating his old Firebird into a true classic for the 21st century and has documenting the changes over at Priuschat and EcoModder. The TL,DR version of the story: he's replacing the worn-out powertrain with the gas-electric hybrid one from a Prius V, because it turns out the two vehicles have almost exactly the same wheelbase. Bill, who's from Columbus, Ohio and doesn't want his full name used, said in his posts on the conversion project that he's made many memories with this vehicle since buying it back in 1979. Since then, a few moves, a few decades, and some time in storage meant that the car would no longer function as he wanted it to. As he wrote, "when it comes to mice in the vehicles IT IS WAR." His solution is to make new memories and making a greener vehicle, and so we wanted to ask him how things have been going. Bill's been traveling a bit recently, but told AutoblogGreen that he's now figuring out the next steps for this amazing and complicated project. "I always plan things out before I do them," he said. That's the only way something like this can work. ABG: I think we have to start with what gave you the inspiration for this project. Was it simply that you had the two cars and wanted to see them merged into one cool mashup, or was it something else? "One day my wife wondered out loud if the car could be converted into a hybrid... The rest is history." Bill: I have been the owner of my 1967 Firebird convertible since 1979 when I bought it for $750.00. I drove it for years and made many memories. Afterward it was in storage for many years during which time mice at their way into the car and trashed the interior and wiring. I started working on a conventional restoration but always ran into major problems with hidden corrosion, electrical issues and an engine on its last legs. The car was never going to be as nice as I wanted going the conventional route. One day my wife wondered out loud if the car could be converted into a hybrid like our two daily driver Prii. That got me thinking about how it could be done. The rest is history... ABG: It looks like you started in late 2014. Have things gone well since then, or has it been one hassle after another? What has been the biggest setback, and what were the biggest victories?

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...

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.