Blast from the Past!

a celebration of the last of the pavement rippers-now they've even coupled a turbo to it

In these Grand Times, when, in the words of that noted social commentator Mr. A. Warhol, we are headed toward a magic moment "when everybody will be famous for 15 minutes," we turn our attention to a unique automobile. Obviously, an automobile is a thing, not a person, but Warhol's prophecy seems to apply, considering the cacophonic zoo of commercialism in which we live. The automobile in question is not unique because it carries an engine equipped with quadruple camshafts or because its body is hand formed out of Reynolds Wrap. It stands out because it has not only prevailed but flourished during these bloated, confused years. While most other American automobiles have been upsized, downsized or summarily discontinued, this machine has quietly generated a legend.

The automobile we speak of is the Pontiac Firebird Trans Am, now entering its 12th year of life and gaining strength by the minute. While doomsayers everywhere agree that automobiles of the future will be mundane (continued on page 216) Blast from the Past! (continued from page 163) mechanical crustaceans scrambling around on thimblefuls of rare fuel, the Trans Am thunders ahead as the essence of the Sixties youth market as defined by the Beach Boys, Buddy Holly and other bards of the day. It is a throwback, a Neanderthal monster, a consumerist's hydra that refuses to be destroyed in this age of so-called diminished expectations. Yes, the Trans Am is blasting ahead and we are here to cheer every pavement-blackened foot of its progress.

It blossomed from the sunlit side of the Sixties garden--well protected from the storm clouds of pollution and OPEC blackmail billowing on the horizon. Automobiles worth owning then were muscle cars, hot cars, supercars, Goats, Mopars, 'Stangs, 'Cudas, 4-4-2s, SS 396s, Cobras, Boss 302s and R/T Chargers powered by such pulsing, flame-belching packages of power as Hemis, 327 Fuelies, Rat Motors, Fat Blocks, Wedges, Tri-Power 389s and the like, hooked up to 4.55 lockers and four on the floor.

Pontiac, the General Motors Division that had obliterated its maiden-aunt image by laying trails of exhaust and Wide Track rubber across the nation's stock-car tracks in the Fifties, was in the forefront of this rage for performance. Its Bonnevilles, Grands Prix and GTOs had led Detroit into the crazed world of speed, only to find Ford, Chrysler and other rival G.M. counterparts outaccelerating them toward that revered nirvana of commercial riches known as the youth market.

Ford had generated a whole new concept in sportiness with its 1964/1965 Mustang--a gussied-up Falcon with a long hood and a tiny two-plus-two passenger compartment. General Motors countered in 1967 with its Chevrolet Camaro and Pontiac Firebird, while Chrysler and American Motors followed with their Barracuda, Challenger, AMX and Javelin. All were aimed at what Detroit called the "youth-dominated specialty market." (Read balls-to-the-wall street racers, who made purchasing decisions on two criteria: (1) sexy looks and (2) raw, spleen-rupturing acceleration.)

Pontiac's Firebird sold 82,000 units in its first year and jumped to 107,000 in 1968, thanks in part to the introduction of a 400-cubic-inch Ram Air 335-horsepower engine. It was quick, but there were other wheels prowling the Main Streets of America that were quicker. In the middle of the 1969 model year, a small Pontiac engineering group completed work on a special Firebird called the Trans Am. It had a tough suspension, quick steering, wider rims and a 335-hp power plant. Festooned with all manner of scoops and spoilers, the Trans Am came in two color combinations: white with blue racing stripes and blue with white racing stripes.

A major styling change in 1970 brought forth the present flowing shape, which still forms the basis for the Camaro and the Firebird. (The cars have identical inner body structures and chassis members.) They were instant hits, both for their aesthetics and performance and for their handling. Pontiac was particularly interested in the road holding of the Trans Am and by the mid-Seventies had established it as the most nimble of all the sporty cars sold in America, including the Corvette.

Then came OPEC. Combined with Federal emission and safety standards, plus a steady tempering of American youths' hot-car fever, the oil crisis seemed to drive a final nail into the coffin of machinery such as the Trans Am. A number of rival brands were broomed out of the showrooms, including the Challenger, Barracuda, Javelin. AMX and the big-engine Mustang. G.M. almost killed the Firebird and the Camaro as well but granted a last-hour reprieve. While marketing experts smugly agreed that our lusts for speed and power had waned, Pontiac quietly plugged ahead with its Trans Am, introducing in 1973 the optional, hand-built 455 HO Super Duty engine. This rare, legendary power plant stands as the only unvarnished high-performance engine to be produced in Detroit since the Federal clean-air standards became law.

By 1975, the Trans Am was experiencing a weird renaissance. It became the top seller in the Firebird line-up and the following year topped the sacred Corvette in sales. The more strident the predictions for universal economy cars become, the more Trans Ams seem to sell. While its nose has become more rakish, the classic, swooping lines of its squat coupe body have remained unchanged.

As the mania for tire-frying power subsided, Pontiac concentrated on perfecting the suspension of the Trans Am, until today it can be described as perhaps the finest handling non-four-wheel independently suspended car in the world.

It is no longer an ego-bulging, short-burst missile but a truly civilized gran turismo in the finest European tradition; a car intended for fast, comfortable weekend jaunts for two, with occasional accommodations for four. It is a clean, taut, honest automobile that has enormous cachet (and value) in Mayfair, on the Champs Elysées, the Ginza and the Via Veneto, as well as in the heartland of America.

If the Trans Am needed a major thrust into the hearts and minds of Middle America, it came in 1976, when Burt Reynolds blasted through movie theaters at the wheel of a black T.A. He was, of course, the Bandit, as in Smokey and the Bandit, perhaps the greatest blue-collar cult film in history. A total of four Trans Ams were wrecked or seriously abused by director Hal Needham in the production of Smokey. The film went on to become one of the all-time box-office grossers in the business. Needham and Reynolds also teamed up to run a Trans Am in the hit Hooper (including an unmanned, rocket-powered model that leaped 419 feet over a gorge in the climax) and another fleet of black 1980 TA's is presently being employed in the production of the Smokey sequel.

As demands for higher gas economy and lower exhaust emissions play a greater, if not a dominant, role in Detroit design, Pontiac has faced the prospect of producing a Trans Am with zoomy looks and splendid handling but with performance more appropriate to a garden mower than to a Maserati, Big-displacement V8 engines are being purged from the entire G.M. line-up, meaning that the old Super Duties, Ram Airs, HOs et al. are becoming as obsolete as wooden wheels and acetylene head lamps. A new source of economical, emission-free power had to be developed for the Trans Am.

Enter the turbocharger. Playboy readers will recall that we've previously reported on the incredible Porsche 930 Turbo Carrera--probably the most exciting road car of the Seventies--and the turbocharged Buick Riviera, which combined front-wheel drive with a turbo V6 engine to create a new breed of American sports/luxury machine. Pontiac has now taken the same route with the Trans Am, offering a $400 optional 301-cubic-inch, 205-hp V8 (the highest output in the domestic industry) that produces vivid, if not dazzling, performance. Operating at a lusty nine-pounds-per-square-inch boost, the turbo 301 produces 55 more horsepower than the normally aspirated 301 Pontiac V8 and 70 foot-pounds of additional torque. Those benefits come without major penalties in gas mileage, which remains in the 14--20-mpg range.

While the turbo is not as fast as the 1979 400-cu-in. model (hampered, in part, because a quirk in the stringent new emission standards makes it impossible to certify the car with a four-speed manual transmission; a three-speed automatic is all that is available), it will still run 120 mph and accelerate 0--60 in under nine seconds. Both are rather prodigious feats in these days of unleaded gas and miserly four-cylinder engines.

Aside from a small bulge in the hood (often concealed by the optional screaming-chicken decal), there are no external clues that the Trans Am is turbocharged. Nor are there many clues for the driver, except for a satisfying, turbinelike surge of power when he tromps on the throttle. Absent is the karate chop of instant acceleration one experiences when the Porsche's Turbo cuts in; nor is there any evidence of the high-pitched turbo whine one hears issuing from beneath the hood of a Saab 900 Turbo.

The impression is one of a big-displacement V8, which is exactly what the Pontiac engineers were seeking. By making the turbocharger a subtle presence, Pontiac has removed it from the realm of wacky gadgets understood only by hard-core car loonies and made it a civilized unit suitable for all brands of automobiles. Look for wide applications of turbochargers in the future, because they provide solid power without ruining gas mileage or seriously polluting the air.

The Pontiac Trans Am is a wellspring of driving pleasure. It is fast and stable, with enormous stopping potential, thanks to its optional four-wheel disc brakes. Its interior appointments are neat and tasteful and ready to accommodate a couple for a long-legged interstate haul or an urgent, switchback-laced romp into the mountains. Its fluid fast-back shape denies comfort to rear-seat passengers or the availability of ample luggage space, but those are small penalties when compared with the over-all competence, comfort and value of the automobile. And considering the fact that it would take the worst kind of profligacy in choosing options to exceed a $10,000 price tag, the booming Trans Am market becomes appealing to all but the most wizened, pinchpenny gas miser on the road today.

"The Trans Am is no longer an ego-bulging, short-burst missile but a truly civilized gran turismo."