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Junkyard Gem: 2001 Pontiac Grand Prix GTP

For General Motors, the W platform just kept giving and giving and giving for decade after decade, serving as the basis of Buick Regals, Oldsmobile Intrigues, Chevrolet Monte Carlos, and many, many more models. The final and most powerful Pontiac W-Body, the sixth-generation Grand Prix GTP, rolled off assembly lines for the 1997 through 2003 model years. Here's one in a Northern California self-service wrecking yard. GM bolted the supercharged 3800 V6 into vast numbers of cars during this era, providing a deep reservoir of cheap blowers for unwise high-boost projects. 240 front-tire-charring horses, complete with a Roots-type blower scream from the Eaton supercharger under the hood. I see plenty of blown 3800s during my junkyard travels, from the Bonneville SSEi to the Oldsmobile LSS. Depressingly, GM stopped putting manual transmissions in the Grand Prix during the 1993 model year, so '01 GTP owners had to take the four-speed slushbox. This one came close to the magic 200,000-mile mark, but fell 25,000 short. The interior took a beating during its life, ending its time on the road with shredded upholstery and dirty panels. Seven-band graphic equalizers were all the rage during the 1980s, but GM kept the tradition alive into our current century. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Grips the pavement like ... a shopping cart on wet linoleum? Featured Gallery Junked 2001 Pontiac Grand Prix GTP View 21 Photos Auto News Pontiac Automotive History

1969 Pontiac GTO Judge vs. 2006 GTO, which Goat gets your vote?

The Pontiac GTO was perhaps the most iconic muscle car of the '60s and early '70s. With its beefy V8 and color palette screaming for attention, it summarized in a single vehicle everything that made the era so appealing to many young people. Pontiac tried to collect just a few drops of that aura again in the 2000s with a revived GTO, but with decidedly mixed results. The performance was still there with its big V8, but the looks never quite lived up to the powertrain. Now, Generation Gap wants to know which of these Goats is the one to own.
Things are skewed immediately because the 2006 GTO here is a real ringer. It comes from famous tuner Ken Lingenfelter's collection, and it's a one-off example partially fettled by GM Performance boasting a twin-turbocharged LS2 V8 with a claimed 750 horsepower and a wide-body kit. This Goat definitely isn't what you're going to find just browsing for one to buy in the newspaper. Still, dip the throttle just a little, and this GTO pulls like a freight train. It's enough to turn the two hosts into giggling schoolboys behind the wheel.
The '69 GTO Judge here is also out of Lingenfelter's collection, but this one is all stock with a 400-cubic-inch (6.6-liter) V8 and a Ram Air hood for a claimed 366 hp. It might not have the unbelievable power of the turbo '06, but it makes up for it with style to spare.

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.