Next stop, Kearney, Nebraska. It’s home to Scott Liggett and…um…well, looks like we’re going to find out what else when we roll into town! Truth be told, neither me nor Haley have set foot in Nebraska. I’m expecting pretty much the same show that western Kansas gives drivers along Interstate 70: flat-as-a-board topography and boredom punctuated by the occasional cow in a field. Maybe I’m wrong. But I’m not expecting much more than that.
Nothing against our rented half-ton four-door pickup truck, but…no. It’s useful, it’s comfy, but it is certainly not striking me as something exciting to drive. I crave that X-factor that splits the difference between a capable car and something good. Case in point: Park two 1996 Chevrolets next to each other. One Caprice, one Impala SS. Our truck is the Caprice, and it isn’t even the good 9C1 version. It’s the Caprice Classic, the soft chariot of bingo hall patrons. It’s competent, no doubt. But then there’s the Impala…see what I mean?
So, for today’s Temptation, let’s look at a 1997 Pontiac Trans Am. T-tops, LT-1, automatic. Why buy a car like this? Why not go find an LS-powered fourth-gen if you have to have one? Here’s the answer: It’s nothing special. Shove the tops into the hatch. Take those romping, stomping 285 horsepower and go raise some hell. Don’t laugh, there’s plenty you can do with that kind of grunt, and 335 ft-lbs of torque will burn tires at will. Powersliding around dusty roads in Nebraska? Yeah. That’s why you buy an early fourth-gen.
