What is your all time favorite automobile?

They say some cars leave an impression; others leave a legacy. For me, the 1973 Pontiac Grand Am is the latter. It’s not just a car—it’s a time machine that revs up memories every time I think about it. It wasn’t even my car, technically. It belonged to my dad, but in a way, it belonged to our family history.

The Original Grand Am

Before I was even born, my dad owned a 1973 Pontiac Grand Am. He talked about it a lot. It was his pride and joy, a car that made you turn your head before it even rolled by. But like a lot of things in life, the car was sold before I entered the picture in 1976. By the time I was old enough to understand cars, that Grand Am was just a story my dad told—a legend of a time when muscle and elegance rode together on four wheels.

Still, that car stayed in my dad’s heart. And in 1992, we found its successor.

The Second Coming of the Grand Am

It wasn’t brand new this time, but it was still special. My dad spotted a 1973 Grand Am in Trenton, Ohio, sitting in the driveway of an older lady’s home. It wasn’t as pristine as the one he’d owned years earlier—it didn’t have the swivel driver seat, and the positive rear-wheel traction was absent—but it still had that look, that rumble, and that soul.

When my dad brought it home, it wasn’t “mine,” but he let me drive it. And let me tell you, nothing made a 16-year-old feel cooler than pulling out of the driveway in that car.

What Made the ’73 Grand Am Special

For those of you who might not know, the 1973 Pontiac Grand Am wasn’t just a car; it was a masterpiece of engineering and design:

• Engine Options: The heart of the beast was a 400-cubic-inch V8, but if you wanted to wake the neighborhood, you could opt for the 455-cubic-inch V8.

• Radial Tuned Suspension: This wasn’t just about muscle; it was about control. The Grand Am handled as well as it roared.

• Endura Nose: The flexible rubber front bumper gave it a look that was both aggressive and refined—a signature feature that made it stand out in any crowd.

• Interior Luxury: Swivel bucket seats were an option, and the cabin had an elegance that made it feel more like a lounge than a car.

Even in its slightly less equipped form, the one we had still turned heads and made you feel like you were in something extraordinary.

Memories Behind the Wheel

Every morning, I started up that car to head to school. The engine would rumble to life, and with it came the unmistakable smell of exhaust—something only a true gearhead can appreciate. It was a sound and scent that stuck with me, like a handshake from the past every time I slid behind the wheel.

But like all great cars, it had its moments of drama. One day, I took a corner too fast, pushing the Grand Am a little harder than I should have. That iconic rubber Endura nose—flexible but not invincible—met the bank, leaving a crack that couldn’t be undone. I was devastated. My dad? Let’s just say he wasn’t thrilled.

Still, the memories weren’t all dents and disappointment. There were countless good times tied to that car: the drives, the rumble, the way it made you feel like you owned the road even if you were just headed to the store.

Why It Matters

The 1973 Grand Am wasn’t just a car in our driveway. It was a connection to the past, to my dad’s love for that first Grand Am he’d owned, and to a time when cars were built with a soul you could feel in every mile.

If I could find another one today—one in decent shape—I wouldn’t hesitate to buy it. Not just because it’s a classic, but because it’s my classic. The one that taught me responsibility (the hard way), pride (the kind you feel when you fire up a car that makes the neighborhood look twice), and the importance of respecting the things you love.

So here’s to the 1973 Pontiac Grand Am. Not just a car, but a memory on wheels. If you’ve ever had a car like that—one that leaves its mark on you long after it’s gone—then you know exactly what I mean. It’s not just about horsepower or handling. It’s about heart. And this car? It had plenty of that.

—Joshua L Mullins