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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

Pontiac Aztek rises from the ashes of infamy in Firebird Trans Am guise

What if the Pontiac Aztek, one of the most widely ridiculed vehicles ever built, was reimagined with a little flair from one of the former brand’s more legendary cars? Well, it turns out that someone not only came up with that idea, but followed up on it. And so, we present to you the Pontiac Aztek Firebird Trans Am, uh, trim package? ItÂ’s not real, of course, but it comes from Abimelec Arellano, an Hermosillo, Mexico-based car designer with too much time on his hands who goes by the name Abimelec Design. Arellano redesigned the midsize SUVÂ’s wimpy front fascia to surprising success by simply adding widened fender flares and perhaps modernizing the headlights. He also went all-in embracing the AztekÂ’s abrupt, flattened rear end by removing the rear bumper lip, adding a slightly more aggressive rear spoiler to boot. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Elsewhere, the dominating and cheap-looking gray plastic under-cladding is gone in favor of body-color panels. Arellano also added some probably larger Pontiac Snowflake wheels with gold accents that really make them pop and play well against the signature Firebird decal dominating the hood. Commenters generally fall into one of two buckets. As one put it, “I never thought the Aztek could look this good.” Others implored Arellano to do a version with a T-top. Or as one Autoblog editor put it, “So it turns out the reason the Aztek was a laughingstock failure is that it didnÂ’t come in a Smokey and the Bandit Edition. Somewhere, a dude who got shouted down in a product-planning meeting years ago is vindicated.” Sold between 2001 and 2005, the Aztek arguably reached the pinnacle of its notoriety as the metaphor for the drab, underachieving life of Walter White in AMCÂ’s meth drama, “Breaking Bad.” It came equipped with a 3.4-liter V6 that made 185 horsepower and sent it through a four-speed automatic to the front wheels, with an all-wheel drive version also available. The Aztek may have the last laugh, especially if it gets a screaming chicken. “The fact it was a controversial design and didnÂ’t sell well will make it an object of curiosity from a historical standpoint many years from now,” McKeel Hagerty, president and CEO of classic-car insurer Hagerty Insurance, told Autoblog back in 2016.

German prosecutors have recorded calls between VW bigwigs talking dieselgate

It's barely possible to believe how poorly Volkswagen continues to handle dieselgate. Depending on which day you catch the news, the German carmaker embodies the corporate venality of "Michael Clayton," the comic blundering of the Coen Brothers' "Burn After Reading," and the every-man-for-himself vengeance of "Reservoir Dogs." Today is Tarantino day, with news that German prosecutors have recordings of phone calls between former Audi and Porsche development boss Wolfgang Hatz, ex-Volkswagen Group executive Matthias Muller, and current Porsche executives Oliver Blume and Michael Steiner. Hatz made the calls to the trio in November 2015, two months after Volkswagen admitted its diesel-particulate sins to the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. Hatz was still employed at the time, and in his company car. Who recorded the calls? His wife. Hatz and his missus apparently saw the storm coming and started stacking defenses early. Hatz's wife, who can be heard encouraging Hatz during at least one call, sent the recordings to Hatz's attorney from her mobile phone. According to a Google translation of the German newspaper Handelsblatt's report, she included the note, "Here is a very long, but quite informative conversation on the current situation with useful formulations." The report in Handelsblatt said that in Germany it is generally "not allowed" to record a conversation and pass it on to a third party. We don't know how the authorities will handle this matter, since prosecutors found the recordings in e-mail attachments on Mrs. Hatz's mobile phone. Remember, when the diesel scandal broke, VW spent months saying that only a small number of low-level personnel were behind it, and all of the higher-ups had been blindsided. Ex-CEO Martin Winterkorn claimed to be "stunned that misconduct on such a scale was possible in the Volkswagen Group." Winterkorn successor Matthias Muller said, "according to current information, a few developers interfered in the engine management." Former VW USA honcho Michael Horn told a congressional committee that "a couple of software engineers" programmed the software for reasons no one could understand. In the recorded conversations, Hatz apparently called Muller to find out how VW planned to treat him.