1999 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am Ws6, 103,000 Miles!! 6 Speed, Ls1 on 2040-cars

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Automakers tussle over owners of 'orphan' makes

When General Motors put down several of its brands in recent years, it also let loose thousands of brand-loyal customers who will eventually need another car.
R.L. Polk Associates estimates there are more than 18 million cars from 16 discontinued makes on the road today. Those "orphan owners" have sales-hungry competitors seeing dollar signs. GM is offering Saturn owners $1,000 cash toward a Chevy Cruze, Cadillac CTS or a GMC Acadia. Ford is giving its Mercury lease customers a chance to get out of their contracts with no early-termination penalty and offering to waive six remaining payments if they drive off in a Ford or Lincoln.
Edmunds.com research shows the efforts are paying off somewhat for GM, with 39 percent of Pontiac owners, 37 percent of Hummer owners and 31 percent of Saturn owners taking delivery of another GM-branded vehicle. But that leaves as much as 69 percent of owners going elsewhere. Ford, Honda and Toyota seem to be attracting many former GM owners.

'We're not a hedge fund': Porsche plans to curtail speculators and flippers

A sizable number of speculators view cars as an investment. Rare or unusual models are quickly snapped up and either parked for years or flipped for a profit. Cars from automakers like Porsche and Ferrari are more prone than others, and at least some people behind these models are getting a bit tired of it. While it's difficult to police what goes on after you sell a car, Porsche has some plans that might curtail the problem before it starts. Andreas Preuninger, the head of GT road-car development and the man behind the new 911 GT3, spoke to Car and Driver at a recent event. "I personally like to see my cars being used," he said. "That's what we build them for. They are just too good to be left to stand and collect dust." One recent example of this rampant speculation is the 911 R. While the special manual-only model sold for $185,950 when new, used versions were selling for nearly $1.3 million just months after it went on sale. While the car is a masterpiece and an instant classic, a good number will be parked and simply used as art and not the rolling testaments to the man/machine interface they were intended to be. The concern over valuations has become so fierce that some owners are upset that Porsche is offering the new 911 GT3 with a manual transmission, fearing that it may hurt the value of the 911 R. "When I said we're not a hedge fund, I'm talking to those people who are yelling at us for offering the manual transmission similar to the R," Preuninger said. "But if there are people wanting to buy cars like that, then as a company we should try to fulfill that, to meet that demand." It seems Porsche is keeping a close eye on who is flipping cars. Since there is often far more demand than supply with certain models, the German automaker has a name for every car before it's built. Buyers with bad reputations might not even make the wait list. 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.