The last generation F-body Pontiac Firebird. Even years later, these cars possess a striking beauty. However, as I discovered, the allure of the 1998 Pontiac Firebird was often skin deep. This story begins in January 2009, a time when car sharing with my sister was straining our relationship, and I found myself in need of my own set of wheels. Little did I know, my next car would be a project, a learning experience, and a testament to the ups and downs of 90s General Motors engineering.
My dad, always eager for a new project beyond his collection of Fieros, stumbled upon an intriguing eBay listing. A local dealership was auctioning a 1998 Pontiac Firebird V6. It was a 5-speed manual, offered with no reserve. The ad hinted at mechanical needs, and the photos suggested bodywork was also necessary. He showed me the listing. Having always admired the sleek lines of the Firebird, I agreed it could be a worthwhile venture. We struck a deal – a 50/50 partnership on acquiring this project car. My dad placed a bid, and just like that, we became the owners of a 1998 Pontiac Firebird. January 31, 2009, marked the day we brought it home, a fact helpfully resurfaced by Facebook memories. Looking back at the photos from that day, the missing wheel well liners are immediately apparent, a foreshadowing of the adventures to come, including packing the front fenders with snow and gravel on the drive home!
Arriving at the dealership, we found our 1998 Pontiac Firebird relegated to the back lot, the automotive purgatory for unwanted trade-ins. The online photos hadn’t fully revealed the extent of the cosmetic challenges. Every horizontal panel was keyed, and the hood was personally “decorated” with “F*** JAMES” carved into it. Opening the driver’s door was an olfactory assault of stale cigarettes, and the interior was generally rough. The tires were mismatched, and as noted, the front wheel well liners were absent. On the positive side, rust was minimal underneath. When my dad turned the key, the 3800 V6 engine coughed to life. It sounded rough, but surprisingly, no warning lights illuminated the dashboard. A test drive revealed a pronounced howl from the rear end. Despite these issues, we proceeded with the purchase. If memory serves, the final price was $2,250. Neither of us was deterred; we saw potential beneath the grime and damage of our new 1998 Pontiac Firebird project.
Back home, the real work began. While the 3800 Series II engine in our 1998 Pontiac Firebird had around 90,000 miles, it was clear it had endured some neglect. Within weeks, we’d pulled the entire drivetrain. My task was the interior. I dedicated a weekend to deep cleaning every fabric surface, including the headliner, in a determined effort to eradicate the cigarette odor. That winter was spent rebuilding the engine and addressing various mechanical issues. By early summer, the revitalized engine and transmission were back in the chassis. We also upgraded to a limited-slip differential, and new tires were mounted on the factory chrome wheels. The thoroughly cleaned interior was reinstalled. The only remaining major item was paint. The 1998 Pontiac Firebird went to the body shop, where it remained for a significant part of the summer. Just before my junior year of high school commenced, our “new” Firebird was finally ready to drive.
My 1998 Pontiac Firebird was a V6 coupe model. Feature-wise, it had power windows, mirrors, and locks, but lacked keyless entry. It boasted a factory Delco CD player, chrome wheels, a power antenna (initially stuck inside the fender), ABS, and the coveted T-top package. The T-tops quickly became my favorite feature. On sunny days, they were invariably off and stowed in the trunk. The absence of keyless entry meant the classic GM two-key system: one for the doors and another for the ignition. I suspect these might have been among the last GM vehicles to employ this setup.
Owning the 1998 Pontiac Firebird was a mixed bag, as the title suggests. Visually, I was, and remain, captivated by the final F-body Pontiacs. They possess a simple, elegant aesthetic. However, the realities of 90s GM quality soon surfaced. Closing the long driver’s door often caused the dew strip to pop out. Replacing it, even with new clips, proved futile; it was a common build flaw. Random headlight malfunctions were another quirk, with them sometimes taking turns refusing to pop up. Engine work was cramped. The stylish body placed the engine far back, under the windshield. Even simple maintenance like oil changes was challenging. Spark plug replacement, after the engine rebuild, consumed a good part of a Saturday. Working on the V6 made me thankful I didn’t have the V8. While I loved the T-tops, they were prone to leaking. The joint where the A-pillar, windshield top, and frameless window met was a leak point, dripping water onto my left thigh, or worse, the seat. A towel became a permanent backseat fixture for rainy days. My car also lacked T-top sunshades. Parking in the sun turned the seatbelt buckles into branding irons. One sunny day resulted in a square seatbelt buckle-shaped burn on my forearm. Heat also caused the plastic front fenders and doors to expand, mimicking my old Saturn and making door opening difficult. Seeking shade became a parking priority.
My benchmarks for driving fun were my Fiero and my dad’s 1988 Fiero Formula. The Formula begged to be revved and thrown into corners. One might expect the 1998 Pontiac Firebird to offer a similar experience, but it fell short. The 3800 engine is a robust powerplant, but better suited to a Buick LeSabre than a “sporty” car. It didn’t enjoy high revs and felt less agile than the Fiero on winding roads. It often felt like piloting a whale. The Fiero’s grin-inducing driving dynamics were absent in the Firebird. This might sound harsh, but the Firebird felt like a step backward in driving enjoyment compared to the Fiero.
Life progressed. I drove the 1998 Pontiac Firebird through my junior and senior years. It proved reliable transportation. Winter, however, highlighted the drawbacks of RWD compared to the FWD Saturn. Our driveway, at the bottom of a slight hill, sometimes presented an icy challenge. My sister even passed me in her Saturn once as I struggled to ascend the hill in the Firebird! Winter driving became so cumbersome that I often parked the Firebird in favor of something more winter-capable. Despite being classified as coupes with similar interior space by the government, the Saturn offered a significantly more comfortable and usable interior than the 1998 Pontiac Firebird.
In the spring of 2011, college loomed. My desire to study engineering, run cross country, and attend a small college narrowed my choices, leading me to Dordt College in northwest Iowa. The 1998 Pontiac Firebird accompanied me for my freshman year. However, it spent most of that year parked. At the end of the year, I drove it back to Iowa City for the summer. Financial realities hit towards summer’s end; I lacked sufficient funds for tuition. After discussions with my dad, the decision was made to sell the Firebird. Was I sad? Initially, yes, but the prospect of relinquishing the 90s GM quirks to someone else soon eased any sadness. I left it for my dad to sell and returned to school in borrowed transportation.
My 1998 Pontiac Firebird ownership was a chapter of mixed emotions – appreciation for its aesthetics, enjoyment of its T-tops, but also frustration with its build quality and driving dynamics. It was a project car that taught valuable lessons, and while it wasn’t perfect, it was a memorable part of my automotive journey. The story of what came after the Firebird is for another time. During my Firebird years, I did have other vehicles for winter driving, and the next chapter involves a car initially bought for parts that proved too good to dismantle.
