Wrench More In ’24: 1983 Pontiac Sunbird vs 2002 Chrysler Sebring

Good morning! Welcome to another year of poor automotive choices. If you’ve made a resolution to take up a new hobby, and that hobby is fixing up old cars, then you’re in luck: Today we’re looking at two non-performance-oriented convertibles that both look good but need mechanical work. And neither of them is exactly a “collector’s car,” so it doesn’t really matter if you screw them up further.

On Friday, we ended the year with a bang, and looked at a pair of uncommon exotic dream rides. I’d go to great lengths to get some seat time in either one of them, but if I were to actually own one, I’d steer clear of the one that’s just too pretty for the likes of me. That Lancia is beautiful, and it won your vote hands-down, but I prefer my own cars a little less pristine and precious.

That Lotus is what the classic car market folks refer to as “driver condition.” It’s a number 3 or 4 on the typically-used classic car grading scale, a running car that won’t win any awards, but goes down the road just fine and has the desired effect on onlookers. And that’s just how I like ’em. My own MGB GT is in similar condition; though its paint may be shinier than that chalky Lotus, it’s still at best a “ten footer” that photographs well – as long as you don’t look under the hood. Cars like these shouldn’t sit around; they should be on the road, being enjoyed. I don’t do that enough with my car, and it’s one of my resolutions: Just drive the damn thing.

Actually, in a broader sense, that is my only real resolution this year: Do the things I enjoy whenever I can, instead of waiting for the “perfect” opportunity. If the last three or four years of chaos have taught me anything, it’s that you have to squeeze the good stuff into whatever cracks you find, because you never know what the universe is going to throw at you next.

Finding the time is tough; the great paradox of getting a chance to write about things you love is that it takes time away from actually doing those things. And since I still rely on a daily trip to the salt mines of a normal job for the bulk of my income, time is in even shorter supply. But I’m going to make a conscious effort this year to spend more time with tools or steering wheels in my hands. I’ve got plans. And if the stars align and I can actually pull them off, you’ll hear about them.

But for now, let’s focus on the business at hand, which is evaluating two old broken cars.

1983 Pontiac 2000 Sunbird – $2,000

Engine/drivetrain: 1.8 liter overhead cam inline 4, three-speed automatic, FWD

Location: Portland, OR

Odometer reading: 60,000 miles

Operational status: Starts and runs, but engine knocks

I’m tired of hearing the terms “apologist” and “guilty pleasures.” Both smack of elitism, with the implication being that you know certain cars or movies or music or whatever are “bad,” but it’s okay to like them as long as you’re in on the joke. It’s as if people feel the need to justify their place at the cool table by mocking things they actually like, in order to score points with strangers who are all doing the same thing. The madness must stop. We’re too old for that shit. I legitimately like first-generation GM J-bodies like this, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks.

This is actually a pretty rare car, it turns out, one of only 626 of its kind. It’s the first year for the convertible version, and the only year that the “Sunbird” name was only applied to the convertible. The rest of them were simply Pontiac 2000s. It was built by ASC, a California-based company famous for making convertibles from coupes, for all of the “Big Three” US automakers, as well as Nissan, Toyota, Mitsubishi, and even Porsche. Unfortunately, chopping the top off a unibody coupe renders it about as structurally stiff as a slice of Wonder Bread, but what’s a little cowl shake among friends? It’s powered by a 1.8 liter overhead cam four with throttle-body fuel injection, fancy enough stuff for 1983 that Pontiac saw fit to add those “OHC/FI” badges to the front fenders.

Unfortunately, this one is suffering. The seller says it has a bad connecting rod bearing, which is about as serious for a car as a ruptured aorta is for a person. The engine still runs, but it isn’t long for this world in its current state. It will need either a complete “bottom end” overhaul, or more likely, just a replacement. There was a time when any junkyard would have plenty of Sunbirds (or Buick Skyhawks) to donate an engine to the cause, but this car is now forty-one years old, and good engines are going to be tough to find. It might be possible to swap in a “122” overhead-valve engine from a Chevy Cavalier, which are more common. You could go nuts and try to drop in an Ecotec four-cylinder engine from a far more modern Chevy Cobalt, but that would probably be more trouble than it’s worth. Personally, I think overhauling the existing engine, if it’s saveable, would be the most rewarding option.

Whatever the new owner decides to do to save it, I hope they see fit to keep these glorious gold BBS-style basketweave wheels. They absolutely make the car.

2002 Chrysler Sebring Limited – $1,500

Engine/drivetrain: 2.7 liter dual overhead cam V6, four-speed automatic, FWD

Location: Vista, CA

Odometer reading: 93,000 miles

Operational status: Runs and drives, but fails smog, and “has some challenges”

Some cars seem destined for certain purposes. NA- and NB-generation Mazda Miatas were always meant to become the scruffy track-rats that so many of them are today. Buick LeSabres could have been designed in the parking lot of a buffet restaurant offering “Early Bird Specials.” And the Chrysler Sebring convertible only ever really made sense with a fob from Enterprise or Avis attached to its key. There are some who adore these things, but most of us remember them as not-very-noteworthy rental cars in sunny climates.

That’s not to say it’s a bad car, by any means. Chrysler brought the convertible bodystyle back to the US market in 1982, and kept refining the formula through two generations of LeBarons and three generations of Sebrings. After some early hiccups, mostly due to hangover from the malaise era, Chrysler convertibles got to be pretty nice. This second-generation Sebring is the fancy Limited model, with all the power stuff you could want, and Chrysler’s oft-maligned 2.7 liter V6 and finally-sorted-out Ultradrive four-speed automatic under the hood.

The 2.7 is notorious for a number of failures, including oil sludge buildup, oil burning through the PCV valve, and the boneheaded water pump design, which places the pump deep inside the engine, driven by the timing chain, rather than externally-mounted and belt-driven like most engines. A water pump leak, not an uncommon failure on any car, means that coolant will mix with the oil, which can have catastrophic results. This one runs all right, but it won’t pass a smog test, which could be related to any of the above, or something else entirely. There’s no telling how deep the rabbit-hole of repairs needed goes.

It also has a few other non-engine-related items that need fixing, among them a broken interior door handle and a window that’s off-track. But those are easy puttering-around-on-a-Saturday projects.

Once upon a time, I had to rely on old junky cars for transportation. I didn’t learn to fix things for fun; I learned to fix things so I could get around. More times than I care to remember, I stayed up late, in the cold and the dark, mucking around with some $500 shitbox just so I could get to work in the morning. Those days, thankfully, are behind me – but the thing is, I learned a lot. The absolute best way to learn how to fix cars is to buy a cheap broken car and dive in, and find someone to answer your questions. And if you don’t need to finish it right away, and can let it sit when you encounter an obstacle or a setback, it can be a lot of fun. These two are definitely broken, and fairly cheap. Which one are you going to tear apart and fix?

(Image credits: Craigslist sellers)