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This 93-car Iowa auction is like a Big 3 classic muscle museum

Bill "Coyote" Johnson has been buying cars since high school and has amassed a collection totaling 113 vehicles, according to NBC 6 News. But time has changed his motivations and priorities, and he's decided to auction 93 of those cars, many of which are classic muscle from Ford, Chevrolet, Dodge, Plymouth and Pontiac. The megasale will take place Sept. 14, 2019, in Red Oak, Iowa, at the Montgomery County Fairgrounds. A 1969 Plymouth Road Runner infected Coyote with a love for Detroit muscle when he was just a teenager, and his desire quickly turned into an obsession. He's spent the past 40 years finding, buying and working on a variety of makes and models. Unlike some collectors, Coyote didn't discriminate against certain brands and has rides from each of the Big 3 automakers. Included in the auction are Camaros, Satellites, Super Bees, Chargers, Challengers, Barracudas, Coronets, GTOs, Mustangs, Cutlasses and others. Possibly the most intriguing aspect of the auction is that all of these cars will be sold as-is with no reserve. Many of them will need work, depending on quality standards, but this seems like a golden opportunity to find a classic car without leaving a bank account in shambles.  The auctions are open for bidding online now, and the full auction will take place on September 14. Check out the full listings and bid at VanDerBrink Auctions.

Another Burt Reynolds Trans Am is up for auction

Fans of Smokey and the Bandit, your car has arrived. This Saturday, January 21, Barrett-Jackson will auction a 1977 Pontiac Trans Am clone that, while not originally in the movie, was owned and signed by the Bandit himself, Burt Reynolds. Not only that, but it packs many modifications that should make this Pontiac drive the way we all imagined it did. This is a Trans Am clone, not an original. The car was built by Nebraska company Restore A Muscle Car, and started life as a lowly Firebird Formula. However, the company brought it up to Trans Am grade and beyond. Under the hood is a fuel-injected 8.2-liter V8 from Butler Performance that Restore A Muscle Car says produces 600 horsepower. Coupled to the big V8 is a Tremec five-speed manual transmission. There's even Hurst line-lock on-board, so this Trans Am should be perfect for on-demand burnouts. The car also comes with QA1 coil-over suspension, so it should corner better than the original, too. The outside looks roughly like a stock Trans Am, but it now has 18-inch wheels styled after those from the movie car, and the shaker scoop says "8.2" on each side. View 5 Photos In 2014, a 1977 Trans Am owned by Reynolds sold for a whopping $450,000. That car wasn't an actual movie car either, and lacked the modifications of this one. However, it was used as a promotional car and was given to Reynolds, so it did have some history with the film. This upgraded car is listed in the Barrett-Jackson catalog as "no reserve," so it's going home with a new owner on Saturday, regardless of price. Related Video:

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.