Frame Off Restored California Black Plate 1965 Gto Collector Grade on 2040-cars

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This Hoonigan mechanic's twin-turbo Trans Am is wonderful

What do you drive when you work on rally machines for a living? Probably a Subaru WRX, and that's what Gregg Hamilton had for a while until working on his car felt too much like his day job. So when he moved from New Zealand to the US to work for Ken Block (with a few stops along the way) he bought something entirely different. This is Gregg's 1979 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am. It's a throwback to another time, but it's anything but stock. It has that magic combination of a big V8 with a manual transmission and rear drive, just like the tin-top racers Gregg watched in his Kiwi youth. He bought it sight unseen from its previous owner in Alabama, and has been tinkering with it ever since. There's something about the flared wheel arches and the classic Firebird gold-striped black livery that has us smitten. Scope out the six-minute clip above from Petrolicious and see if you don't fall for Gregg's Pontiac as well.

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.