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Junkyard Gem: 2000 Pontiac Sunfire coupe

In a few months, we'll reach the tenth anniversary of GM's axing of the venerable Pontiac brand. G6s, Vibes, and Matizes continued to be built until 2010, but I'm noticing a marked decrease in discarded Pontiacs lately, as I perform my junkyardy rituals. Here's a 2000 Pontiac Sunfire, photographed in a Colorado wrecking yard. The Sunfire was the near-identical sibling to the Chevrolet Cavalier, based on the long-running (1982-2005) J-Body platform. It was cheap and simple, looked pretty sporty (at least in coupe form), and every parts store in North America carried just about everything you'd need to keep one running. This coupe had to compete for sales not only with a vast and menacing array of imports but with GM's own Saturn SC2 (not to mention the Cavalier itself). Meanwhile, the J platform was showing its age more with each passing year. This car sports what must have been the complete line of Fatal Clothing bomber-nose-art/skate-punk/gang-tag-influenced decals, circa 2010. I actually photographed this car back in 2011, then misplaced the image files until last week. The stickers are very California-centric for a Colorado car, but then plenty of Californians — including me— move here. When you know you're a car's final owner, it's a lot easier to whip out the paint pens and redecorate the interior. Power came from the engine GM developed for the very first J-Bodies: the 2.2-liter 122 pushrod four-cylinder. 2002 was the last model year for 122-powered Sunfires and Cavaliers; the most affordable S-10/Sonoma/Hombre trucks got this engine through 2003. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. It even came with a remote, so bad Midwestern farmgirls could make quick getaways when caught in the act by enraged broom-wielding mothers. Featured Gallery Junked 2000 Pontiac Sunfire View 30 Photos Auto News Pontiac Automotive History

Hurst Edition Trans Am proves the Screaming Chicken will rise from the ashes

It seems the Pontiac Trans Am steadfastly refuses to die. Ever since Chevrolet was granted a retrofied Camaro to compete with the Ford Mustang, Pontiac lovers have lamented the loss of this 1970s icon. And, looking at the Hurst Edition from Trans Am Depot, shown here at the 2012 SEMA Show, may explain what all the fuss is about.
It's not going to appeal to everyone's muscle-car tastes, but there's certainly room for a brash-and-bold black-and-gold Special Edition in many a Trans Am lover's garage. After all, if you want the keys to a custom pony car, you'll certainly get noticed in this one. If this scheme isn't your bag,, you can alternatively order your Hurst Edition in white and gold or silver and black. Oh, and don't forget a color-coordinated Screaming Chicken on the hood.
No matter which way you choose to go, your inner Burt Reynolds will appreciate the Eibach suspension kit, forged wheels with Pirelli PZero tires, functional shaker hood, fender air extractors, rear spoiler and, of course, a Hurst shifter inside. The interior is emblazoned with all manner of special touches, including a Hurst dash plate and T/A stitching on the Katzkin two-tone leather seats.

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.