1963 Red Pontiac Le Mans Convertable on 2040-cars

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Junkyard Gem: 1980 Pontiac Phoenix LJ Hatchback

The car-building world was rushing headlong into front-wheel-drive by the late 1970s, eager to reap the weight-saving and space-enhancing benefits of front-drive designs. General Motors designed an innovative FWD platform to replace the embarrassingly outdated Chevrolet Nova and its siblings, and that ended up being the Chevrolet Citation. The other US-market GM car divisions (except Cadillac) got a piece of the X-Body action, and the Pontiac version was called the Phoenix. Here's one of those first-year Phoenixes, not doing a very good job of rising from its snow-covered ashes in a Colorado self-service yard. Pontiac had used the Phoenix name on a luxed-up iteration of Pontiac's version of the Chevy Nova during the 1977-1979 model years, and so it made sense to apply that name to the Pontiac-ized Citation. Phoenix production continued through the 1984 model year (the Citation managed to hang on through 1985). Just to confuse everyone, the Nova name was revived in 1985, on a NUMMI-built Toyota Corolla. The LJ trim level was the nicest one for the 1980 Phoenix, and it included lots of trim upgrades and convenience features. However, even Phoenix LJ buyers had to pay extra for a three-speed automatic transmission instead of the base four-on-the-floor manual ($337, or about $1,291 in 2022 dollars). If you wanted air conditioning, that was another $564 and you had to get the $164 power steering and the $76 power brakes with it (total cost in 2022 dollars: $3,080). Affordable cars weren't so affordable back then, not once you started adding basic options. Both generations of the Phoenix had grilles influenced by those of the Pontiacs of earlier years. The base engine was the chugging 2.5-liter Iron Duke four-cylinder, but a 2.8-liter V6 was optional. This car has the V6, rated at 115 horsepower rather than the Duke's miserable 90 horses. The price tag: 225 bucks, or 862 inflation-adjusted 2022 bucks. The Phoenix was available just as a two-door coupe and five-door hatchback. The MSRP on this car would have started at $6,127, or around $23,469 now. That would have been a pretty good deal even after paying for the options, with the Phoenix's excellent mix of good interior space and solid fuel economy… but the Citation and its kin (the Oldsmobile Omega and Buick Skylark as well as the Phoenix) suffered from seemingly endless, highly publicized recalls and quality problems.

Gordon Murray, F1-driven production and .. the Pontiac Fiero

Gordon Murray's design and engineering chops are unquestionable. But does his carmaking approach owe something to the short-lived Pontiac Fiero, a scrappy little car program that emerged from GM against serious resistance? Murray had a Formula One career that ran from 1969 to 1991, with stints at Brabham ('69 to '86) and McLaren ('87-'91), that resulted in several shelves' worth of trophies for the cars he was instrumental in designing. He moved on to McLaren Cars, the consumer side of things, where, during his tenure from 1991 to 2004, he helped design the McLaren F1 and the Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren, two cars that took learnings from his two decades in Formula One. What do all of these cars have in common? Three things: They are light. They were built in limited numbers. And they were (and are) exceedingly expensive—when the McLaren F1 debuted in 1994, it stickered at $815,000. Murray went on to establish Gordon Murray Design in 2007. GMD has created some interesting concept vehicles, such as the diminutive T.25 city car (94.5 inches long, 51.1 inches wide and 55.1 inches high), and the OX, a lightweight truck for the developing world that packs like an IKEA shelf and is working toward realization through a worthy crowdfunding campaign established by the Global Vehicle Trust. Now he has created a vehicle manufacturing company, Gordon Murray Automotive, that will use manufacturing methods that he developed under the moniker "iStream." Unlike a unibody, there are the "iFrame," a cage-like construction made with metallic components, and the "iPanels," which are composite. The panels aren't simply a decorative skin; they actually provide structure to the vehicle. Presumably this has something of the F1 monocoque about it. Going back to the three elements, (1) this arrangement results in a vehicle that can be comparatively light; (2) Murray has indicated that his manufacturing company will be doing limited-run production; and (3) to launch Gordon Murray Automotive they are going to be building a flagship model, about which Murray said, "With our first new car, we will demonstrate a return to the design and engineering principles that have made the McLaren F1 such an icon." Which seems to imply that it will be on the pricey side. According to the company's verbiage, "iStream forges an entirely new production method that defies conventionality with its Formula One-derived construction and materials technologies." It also sounds a whole lot like ...

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.