2006 Pontiac G6 Base Sedan 4-door 2.4l on 2040-cars

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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...

Classic Pontiac Trans Am Firebird Super Duty 455 sells for nearly $90,000

Historically, the Pontiac Firebird Trans Am raised the performance levels a notch or two over a plain Firebird in the muscle car hierarchy of the Sixties. But the Super Duty 455 version of the Trans Am — that number represents the cubic inches of the hand-assembled V8 engine — moved the performance needle big time in 1974. So much so that a clean example of the machine sold recently on the Hagerty Marketplace auction site for $89,296. Advertised with just under 54,000 miles on the clock and having undergone a thorough restoration, the Buccaneer Red model was one of just 943 Pontiac Firebirds equipped with the Super Duty 455 package for the 1974 model year. That build had also been offered in 1973. The Hagerty listing drew more than 21,000 views and 39 bids. According to Hagerty's valuation report, a similar car would be worth $85,700 in good condition, and $103,000 if it was in ‘“concours condition.” The Super Duty motor borrowed technology from the lineÂ’s 366-cubic-inch NASCAR engine, and featured heavy-duty connecting rods and an entirely new block with a revised crankshaft and heads to deliver a claimed 310 horsepower. The Firebird that sold was indeed loaded, with a three-speed Hydra-matic transmission (which surely reduced its overall value), power locks and windows, AC, dual exhausts, heavy duty stabilizer bars all around, and a “custom Interior trimmed in Red perforated Morrokide vinyl upholstery.” The entry of PontiacÂ’s pony car in the U.S., facing off against the Mustang and Camaro, dates back to 1967, when it was offered with an inline six and optional V8. The first Trans Ams were introduced two years later, the name derived from a handling package. General Motors ceased production of new Pontiacs in 2002 owing to declining sales and losing stakes in the sports coupe market. The big 455-cid V-8 had disappeared years earlier.

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.