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Junkyard Gem: 2004 Pontiac Vibe GT

The New United Motor Manufacturing plant in Fremont, California, built Toyota-derived machinery — badged as Toyotas, Chevrolets, Geos, and Pontiacs— from 1984 through 2010, and some of the very last vehicles that left the assembly line were Pontiac Vibes. The Vibe, sibling to the Toyota Matrix, mostly served as a ho-hum transportation appliance and/or fleet car, but a factory-hot-rod GT version could be purchased. Today's Junkyard Gem is one of those rare GTs, complete with the nearly unheard-of six-speed manual transmission, found in a self-service yard in northeastern Colorado. The regular Vibe had 123 or 130 horsepower, depending on the number of driven wheels, but the Vibe GT got the same 1.8-liter 2ZZ engine that went into the Celica GT-S. 180 horsepower, which was enough to make the 2,800-pound Vibe GT keep up with the 3,108-pound/215-horse Chrysler PT Cruiser Turbo that year. Sadly, no race series pitting Vibe GTs against PT Cruiser Turbos and Chevy HHR SSs on road courses ever materializedÂ… but it's not too late. The Vibe GT has something you couldn't get in a PT Cruiser or Chevy HHR, though: a six-speed manual transmission as standard equipment. In fact, the six-speed was the only transmission offered in the early Vibe GTs (an automatic became an option later on). You'll find plenty of three-pedal econoboxes from this era, because they were significantly cheaper than their slushbox-equipped counterparts, but the Vibe GT had plenty of competition from sportier-looking cars with manual transmissions in 2004. Not many were sold. This car is covered with nasty dents from golf-ball-sized hail (all too common in High Plains Colorado), so it may have been an insurance total that nobody wanted at auction. Sold in Wyoming, will be crushed in an adjacent state. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Fuel for the soul. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. The kids, they were crazy about the Vibe (well, maybe not). This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Toyota had right-hand-drive Matrixes brought over to Japan from Canada, but a NUMMI-built version of the Vibe could be purchased there for a few years as well. This was the Voltz, and its advertising seems notably frantic even by the standards of Japanese car commercials.

Junkyard Gem: 1991 Pontiac Grand Am LE with Quad 4 Engine

GM introduced the N-Body compact platform with the Oldsmobile Calais and Pontiac Grand Am for the 1985 model year and continued building N-based cars through 1998. Most of these cars weren't interesting from an enthusiast standpoint, but a handful rolled off the assembly line with raucous DOHC Oldsmobile Quad 4 engines and manual transmissions, and those cars were plenty of fun. Here's a 1991 Grand Am with that rare setup, photographed in a self-service yard in California's Central Valley. The base engine in the 1991 Grand Am was the 110-horsepower, 2.5-liter pushrod Iron Duke, an engine that might have been fine on a Romanian tractor in 1953 but had no place on an American street car as the 21st century approached. Fortunately, GM started bolting the modern 2.3-liter DOHC Quad 4 engine into 1988 cars, and this was a proper four-cylinder. The Quad 4 ran a little rough and uncivilized, and it had its share of reliability problems, but you could rev the piss out of it and it made good power. In 1991, this engine was rated at 180 hp. That made this 2,592-pound sedan pretty quick. Unfortunately, the slushboxization of America had progressed with depressing rapidity during the 1980s, and by 1991 most Grand Am buyers — even the ones who opted for the Quad 4 — chose the automatic transmission. That didn't happen with this car, though — it boasts a rugged Getrag 5-speed instead of the happiness-amputating three-speed automatic. Yes, that's the kind of odometer reading you'd expect to see on an Accord or Maxima from this era. Someone loved this car and took care of it. Here we see an interesting mix of 1980s and 1990s car-radio technology. CD players in cars were still costly luxury items in 1991, seldom seen in affordable cars like the Grand Am, while 1980s-style slider-style EQ controls were on the way out. This Delco unit straddles both decades nicely. I seek out Quad 4-equipped cars during my junkyard travels, and I have photographed quite a few: this '89 Cutlass Calais, this '90 Cutlass Calais, this '90 Grand Am, this '91 Quad 442, this '93 Achieva SCX, and this '98 Cavalier Z24. It's a shame that Buick never put the Quad 4 in the Reatta, which was a fine car ruined by a somnolent and obsolete V6. The music in this ad is even more early-1990s than Crystal Pepsi. 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.