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Looking Back At Oprah's Free-Car Giveaway 10 Years Later

Molly Vielweber's Pontiac G6 appears unremarkable at first glance. It wears forest green paint, rolls on five-spoke aluminum wheels, and it has a sizeable scrape in the driver's side door, the scar of a decade's worth of hard use. You wouldn't notice it parked at a big box store or cruising on the highway. Pontiac made hundreds of thousands of G6s in the 2000s, and a lot are still on the road. It's unremarkable in every way except for the front license plate, which reads, "Oprah 6." But this is not just any G6. This car is a part of television history. Vielweber won her G6 10 years ago at a taping of The Oprah Winfrey Show, when Oprah kicked off her 19th season in dramatic fashion by giving all 276 members of the studio audience a free car. It was an unprecedented stunt that changed lives, generated controversy and ultimately failed to provide enough of a marketing lift for Pontiac, which would be shuttered just over five years later. September 13 marks the 10-year anniversary of the memorable event, which caught everyone, including audience members, by surprise. In a masterful display of showmanship, Oprah dialed up the suspense to match the enormity – and cost – of the event. First she gave away 11 cars, which would have been a landmark TV promotion by itself. But then she coyly announced: "I've got a little twist." Models circulated throughout the audience carrying silver platters loaded with white boxes wrapped in red ribbon. One contained a set of keys, Oprah implied, for another audience member to win the final car. "Do not open it. Do not shake it," she commanded the crowd. Finally, with the suspense built to a fevered pitch, everyone opened their box. They all had keys. "You get a car! You get a car! You get a car! You get a car! Everybody gets a car!" Oprah exclaimed. "Everybody gets a car! Everybody gets a car!" This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Everybody did get a car. But not everyone kept it. William Toebe attended the show with his wife, Jillaine, and he immediately thought of the tax implications, which stretched to $6,000 or more for some audience members. It was a tough reality for many in the audience that day, some of which had been selected based on their need for a new car. "That responsible part of me stepped forward and wondered 'where am I going to get the money to pay the taxes?'" he recalled.

Autoblog Classifieds finds: 1987 Pontiac Fiero GT

Autoblog's free Readers' Used Car Classifieds section is a great place to list your car for sale, and because these are readers, they often list really interesting cars. Occasionally we find interesting listings, and tell you what's special about them. This 1987 Pontiac Fiero was listed for sale at the time of this writing, but if the listing expires by the time you read this, feel free to browse for other great finds. Thirty years after General Motors stopped building it, the Pontiac Fiero might have finally emerged from the darkness. First, it was a humble commuter car that just happened to be a mid-engined coupe, then it was a re-skinnable basis for Fierorraris or other slightly strange kit cars, and then it made some Worst Cars of All Time lists due to its econobox ingredients, including its Chevy Citation suspension parts. But after a few decades, even the most mediocre car will become interesting as most of the examples built have been run into the ground; why not then the Fiero? The story of the Fiero is paralleled by a number of GM products, as it improved constantly the longer it was built, and by the time of the last model years it was quite decent indeed. And then the plug was pulled. The Fiero might not be a Toyota MR2 or even a Fiat X1/9, but it was made in two body styles, the notchback and the fastback, the latter of which looks especially good now. The Fiero also remains quite affordable, and the plastic body panels do not rust, unlike with the two aforementioned cars. This 1987 car advertised for sale at Autoblog Classifieds does not yet benefit from the 1988 cars' improved suspension, but thanks to its low, low 47,000-mile odometer reading, it looks to be in tip-top shape. The automatic transmission is just the three-speed affair, though, rendering the V6 car here more of a cruiser than a fiery hot canyon carver. Perhaps that has contributed to its good condition, along with the lack of possibly leaky T-tops. Could the Fiero have aged better than your Hall & Oates tapes? 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.