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Junkyard Gem: 1984 Pontiac Fiero with supercharged 3800 V6 swap

Like the Corvair, the Vega, and the Citation, the Pontiac Fiero was a very innovative machine that ended up causing General Motors more headaches than happiness, and Fiero aficionados and naysayers continue to beat each other with tire irons (figuratively speaking, I hope) to this day. The General has often proved willing to take the occasional big gamble and huge GM successes in engineering prowess (including the first overhead-valve V8 engine for the masses and the first real-world-usable true automatic transmission) and marketing brilliance (e.g., the Pontiac GTO and related John DeLorean home runs) meant that the idea of a mid-engined sporty economy car (or economical sports car) got a shot from the suits on the 14th floor. Sadly, the Fiero ended up being the marketplace victim of too many issues to get into here, and The General pulled the plug immediately after the 1988-model-year suspension redesign that made the Fiero the sports car it should have been all along. But what if the plastic Pontiac had never suffered from the misery of the gnashy, pokey Iron Duke engine and had been built from the start with a screaming supercharged V6 making way better than 200 horsepower? The final owner of today's Junkyard Gem sought to make that very Fiero, by dropping in one of the many supercharged 3.8-liter V6s installed in 1990s and 2000s GM factory hot rods. The first Fieros came out in 1983 for model year 1984, and the only engine available that year was the Iron Duke 2.5-liter four-cylinder, which generated its 92 horsepower with the full-throated song of a Soviet tractor stuck in the freezing mud of a Polish sugar-beet field. The 2M4 badging stood for "two seats, mid-engine, four cylinders," just as the numbers in the Oldsmobile 4-4-2 once represented "four carburetor barrels, four-speed manual transmission, dual exhaust." This car is a top-trim-level SE model, which listed for $9,599 (about $24,200 today). The no-frills Fiero cost just $7,999 that year, making these cars far cheaper than the only other reasonably affordable new mid-engined car Americans could buy at that time: the $13,990 Bertone (aka Fiat) X1/9. The Toyota MR2 appeared in North America as a 1985 model with a base price of $10,999 and promptly siphoned off the car-buying cash from a bunch of potential Fiero shoppers.

Burt Reynolds’ former 1978 ‘Smokey’ Pontiac Trans Am in big auction by feds

A 1978 Pontiac Trans Am once owned by Burt Reynolds as a memento of the car he drove in the film “Smokey and the Bandit” will be among nearly 150 muscle cars and luxury vehicles seized from the alleged perpetrators of an $800 million investment scheme that will hit the auction block this weekend in California. ItÂ’s said to be the largest single-owner car collection ever auctioned by the U.S. Marshals, seized late last year from Jeff and Paulette Carpoff, the founders of the now-defunct mobile solar generators company DC Solar. Two employees of the San Francisco Bay Area solar energy company, certified public accountant Ronald Roach, 53, and general contractor Joseph Bayliss, 44, both of the Bay Area. pleaded guilty Tuesday to participating in what federal prosecutors say was a massive scheme that defrauded investors of $1 billion. Both men agreed to cooperate in the ongoing investigation. While the Carpoffs, the company's owners, have not been charged, they agreed to let the government auction their collection of 150 classic, performance and luxury vehicles, including the 1978 Pontiac Trans Am once owned by Burt Reynolds. The replica of the car the late actor drove in "Smokey and the Bandit" and the other vehicles are to be auctioned Saturday, with online bidding already pushing the accumulated value past $5.5 million. Bidding on that Trans Am alone had topped $65,000 by late Tuesday. The auction company said it had been driven less than 3,400 miles. It's the largest single-owner car collection ever auctioned by the U.S. Marshals Service. Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal Lasha Boyden of the Sacramento office called it "a stunning collection of vehicles" that also includes 1990s Humvees, 1960s-era Ford Mustangs, Chevrolet Camaros from several decades, plus older cars including a 1939 Buick Roadmaster, a 1951 Chevy Thriftmaster 3100 pickup truck and a 1941 Plymouth Special Delux with wooden doors and trim. “It is rare for the U.S. Marshals to hold an auction of such a stunning collection of vehicles,” Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal Lasha Boyden in Sacramento said in a statement. ReynoldsÂ’ former Trans Am is a hardtop memento of the version he drove in the 1977 action comedy. It bears Bandit Run logos in the rear window and upper windshield and appears to have modified suspension components and bucket seats. It comes with a Florida registration with ReynoldsÂ’ name on it, and an autograph on the glove box that reads, “Be Safe!

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.