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We really want to use an eCrate to restomod an old GM car. Here's what we'd build

You hopefully saw the news today of GM's introduction of its Connect and Cruise eCrate motor and battery package, which effectively makes the Bolt's electric motor, battery pack and myriad other elements available to, ah, bolt into a different vehicle. It's the same concept as installing a gasoline-powered crate motor into a classic car, but with electricity and stuff.  This, of course, got us thinking about what we'd stuff the eCrate into. Before we got too ahead of ourselves, however, we discovered that the eCrate battery pack is literally the Bolt EV pack in not only capacity but size and shape. In other words, you need to have enough space in the vehicle to place and/or stuff roughly 60% of a Chevy Bolt's length. It's not a big car, but that's still an awful lot of real estate. There's a reason GM chose to simply plop the pack into the bed and cargo area of old full-size SUVs. Well that, and having a rear suspension beefy enough to handle about 1,000 pounds of batteries.  So after that buzz kill, we still wanted to peruse the GM back catalog for classics we'd love to see transformed into an electric restomod that might be able to swallow all that battery ... maybe ... possibly ... whatever, saws and blow torches exist for a reason.  1971 Buick Riviera Consumer Editor Jeremy Korzeniewski: If you’re going to build an electric conversion, why not do it with style? ThatÂ’s why IÂ’m choosing a 1971-1973 Buick Riviera. You know, the one with the big glass boat-tail rear end that ends in a pointy V. Being a rather large vehicle with a big sloping fastback shape, IÂ’m hoping thereÂ’s enough room in the trunk and back seat to pack in the requisite battery pack. That would likely require cutting away some of the metal bulkhead that supports the rear seatback, but not so much that a wee bit of structural bracing couldnÂ’t shore things up. The big 455-cubic-inch Buick V8 up front will obviously have to go. Remember, this was the 1970s, so despite all that displacement, the Riviera only had around 250 horsepower (depending on the year and the trim level). So the electric motorÂ’s 200 horsepower and 266 pound-feet of torque ought to work as an acceptable replacement.   1982 Chevrolet S10 Associate Editor Byron Hurd: OK, so the name "E-10" is already taken by a completely different truck, but let's not let labels get in the way of a fun idea.

Autonomous tech will drive motorheads off the road

While autonomous technology could make car travel much safer and more efficient — and automakers and marketers are salivating over the prospect of a "passenger economy" that could potentially generate $7 trillion by 2050 — those of us who enjoy driving are not so stoked. Experts have predicted that as autonomous vehicles are deployed in large numbers, human-driven cars eventually could be outlawed on public roads due to the carnage they create, which is currently more than 41,000 deaths a year in the U.S. alone and climbing. Such scenarios have driving enthusiasts envisioning a "Red Barchetta" style nightmare becoming reality, making Rush lyricist Neil Peart a clairvoyant as well as one of rock's most badass skin-pounders. But there could be a couple of refuges left for motorheads, and they won't be on public roads. As Popular Science's Joe Brown points out in a recent editorial, we're seeing a wave of vehicles being offered by legit mainstream automakers that aren't made for public roads. The poster child of this vanguard is the 2018 Dodge Challenger SRT Demon, which comes with a crate full of goodies that lets you turn the already formidable street-legal muscle car into a drag-strip dominator. Brown also notes that two out of five of the Ford GT's driving modes are for use on the track, "catering to the $450,000 machine's club-racing clientele." We're also currently enjoying the heyday of production off-road-ready pickups that kicked off with the Ford Raptor in 2009. The latest salvo in this escalating war of overachieving trucks is the Chevy Colorado ZR2 that can take on the likes of California's Rubicon Trail without issue. Brown also gives a shout-out to his magazine's Grand Award Winner, the Alta Motors Redshift MX, which "isn't even allowed on public roads" and is "meant for bombing around motocross tracks, big backyards and single-track woods trails." If you follow Brown on Instagram, you know that he's also a two-wheel aficionado, and he points out that sales of off-road bikes are leaving street machines in the dust. Sales of off-highway motorcycles rose 29 percent between 2012 and 2016, according to the ­Motorcycle Industry Council — compared to 6 percent for road-bike sales during the same period. "That's a nearly 400-percent drubbing," Brown remarks.

Junkyard Gem: 1987 Chevrolet Turbo Sprint

Fifteen years ago, I wrote my first-ever automotive article under the name Murilee Martin, and it didn't take me long to start writing about one of my favorite automotive subjects: the junkyard. Before I'd refined my system for documenting discarded vehicles, however, I shot a lot of boneyard photos that never got used. For today's Junkyard Gem, I have four shots from early 2007 of one of the rarest turbocharged machines of the 1980s: the Chevrolet Turbo Sprint. The Chevrolet Sprint was really a rebadged Suzuki Cultus, from the pre-Geo era when General Motors sold the Isuzu Gemini as the Chevrolet Spectrum, the Daewoo LeMans as the Pontiac LeMans and the Toyota Corolla as the Chevrolet Nova (soon enough, the Spectrum became a Geo, and the Nova became the Prizm). The second-generation Cultus appeared in 1988, becoming the Geo Metro on our shores the following year. The Turbo Sprint was available for just the last two years of the Sprint's 1985-1988 American sales run, and it appears that just a couple of thousand were sold; if I'd known at the time just how rare they were, I'd have shot more photos of this one at the now-defunct Hayward Pick Your Part. The turbocharged 993cc three-cylinder produced 70 horsepower, 22 better than the naturally-aspirated version. Since the Turbo Sprint weighed just 1,620 pounds (that's about 500 pounds lighter than a barely more powerful '22 Mitsusbishi Mirage), it was plenty of fun to drive. For 1988, the regular Sprint hatchback cost $6,380 while the Turbo Sprint listed at $8,240 (that's about $15,375 and $19,855 today, respectively). Believe it or not, a Turbo Sprint actually raced in the 24 Hours of Lemons 10 years ago, though it didn't end well. This ad is for the regular Cultus, not the Cultus Turbo, but the screaming guitars sound reasonably turbocharged. For the most part, Chevy Sprint marketing was all about cheap purchase price and stingy fuel economy… at a time when gasoline prices were cratering. Related Video: