On its final lap, where the Camaro lost some of its appeal over time by not rolling with the times, the Firebird still seems to have that lust factor about it.įrom the street, it’s as attractive as ever: a blend of angular lines, louvered side scoops, and bulging sheet metal (as one auto critic said, “a supermodel in a silk nightgown”). “What a rush!” he said, his nails digging into dash. Or ask a friend who insisted he have a ride in the final Firebird, then couldn’t hold on hard enough when the clutch was popped and he was deposited into the back of the seat. who pushed the pedal a little too hard during a test spin a summer back and was snapped back by a state trooper. And so does 5.7 liters of a blowtorch V8 mixed with all the tasty tread of 17-inch alloy wheels, mixed with the symphony of dual exhaust, mixed with danger.ĭon’t believe it? Ask a friend at General Motors Corp. Indeed, come the final quarter of this year, it will be a sad day. Now, just in time for spring, we dropped the top (and the hammer) on the final Firebird Trans Am convertible, all decked out in “Collector Yellow,” and, ultimately, all decked out for a funeral. Six months ago, we spun the Camaro out for a final time. Where the Firebird, and its F-body Camaro cousin, couldn’t hold a candle to the Ford Mustang in recent showroom muscle, both were worthy tire-shredding competitors.
Sales charts will show its biggest rival couldn’t stop hitting its stride. When the final bird rolls off the Quebec assembly line later this year, critics will say the Pontiac sports coupe’s time has finally come. May your neighbors finally gain some peace and quiet. The Pontiac Firebird is flying away for good. Squeal a tire, shed a tear, do what you must do to honor a legend worthy of legendary mention.