The last generation F-body Pontiac Firebird. Even now, years later, there’s no denying the visual appeal of these cars. They possess a sleek, aggressive stance that captures the spirit of American muscle, even if the reality under the skin wasn’t always as polished as the exterior. I snapped the photo below back in the fall of 2009 with my trusty flip phone – not bad quality considering!
Front angled view of a red 1998 Pontiac Firebird parked on a paved surface, highlighting its sleek design
The story begins in January 2009. I was a relatively new driver, about a year into navigating the roads independently. Car sharing with my sister was becoming a point of friction, and the need for personal transportation was growing. While researching for this piece, I was surprised to discover the purchase date was earlier than I remembered. Proof surfaced confirming that on January 31, 2009, a 1998 Pontiac Firebird would become part of our family.
My dad, always eager for a new project beyond his stable of Fieros, was on the lookout for something different to tinker with. One afternoon, browsing eBay, he stumbled upon a local dealership auctioning a 1998 Pontiac Firebird V6. It was a 5-speed manual, with a no-reserve price. The listing honestly mentioned the need for mechanical work, and the photos hinted at necessary body repairs. He asked for my opinion. Having always admired these Firebirds, I encouraged him, suggesting it would be a worthwhile project. We struck a deal to split the cost 50/50. My dad placed a bid on eBay, and soon enough, we were the owners of a ’98 Firebird.
Front view of a blue 1998 Pontiac Firebird with missing wheel well liners, parked in a dealership lot covered in snow
Facebook memories confirmed January 31, 2009, as the day we brought the Firebird home. Notice the absent wheel well liners – a foreshadowing of the car’s condition. The drive home involved packing the front fenders with a delightful mix of gravel and snow!
Arriving at the dealership, we found our Firebird relegated to the back of the lot – that automotive purgatory where unwanted trade-ins go to await their fate. The online photos hadn’t revealed the full extent of the cosmetic issues. Every horizontal body panel was keyed, culminating in a charming “F*** JAMES” etched into the hood. Opening the driver’s door released a potent wave of cigarette smoke, assaulting the nostrils and hinting at the interior’s condition. The tires were mismatched, and as noted, the front wheel well liners were missing entirely. On the positive side, rust underneath was minimal. When my dad turned the key, the 3800 V6 engine coughed to life, sounding rough but without any immediate warning lights on the dashboard. During a brief test drive, a noticeable howl emanated from the rear end. If memory serves, we landed the car for $2,250. Despite the obvious needs, neither my dad nor I were deterred by our new project car.
Close-up of a 1998 Pontiac Firebird engine bay showing the 3800 V6 engine positioned far back under the windshield
Initially, the engine bay didn’t appear too daunting. Appearances can be deceiving. Much of the engine is tucked way back under the windshield, making even routine maintenance surprisingly complex.
Once home, we dove into the restoration. While the 3800 Series II engine had around 90,000 miles, it was clear it had endured some neglect and required attention. Within weeks, the entire drivetrain was out of the car. I tackled the interior, spending an entire weekend shampooing every fabric surface – including the headliner – to eradicate the lingering cigarette odor. That winter was dedicated to rebuilding the engine and addressing various mechanical issues. By early summer, the refreshed engine and transmission were back in the chassis, a limited-slip differential was added for improved traction, and new tires were mounted on the attractive factory chrome wheels. The thoroughly cleaned interior was reinstalled, and the only major item remaining was a paint job. The Firebird went to the body shop, a process that consumed a significant portion of the summer. Just in time for the start of my junior year of high school, the “new” Firebird was ready for the road.
Interior of a Pontiac Firebird showing cloth seats, manual transmission shifter, and long door panel
My Firebird’s interior was virtually identical to the one pictured, except for the manual transmission. Note the exceptionally long doors – a stylish feature that proved less practical in tight parking situations!
My Firebird was a 1998 V6 coupe, equipped with power windows, mirrors, and locks, but lacking keyless entry. It had a factory Delco CD player, chrome wheels, a power antenna (which we had to coax back out of the fender), ABS (a welcome upgrade from my previous Saturn), and the coveted T-top package. The T-tops quickly became my favorite feature. On sunny days, they were invariably off and stowed securely 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 this might have been among the last GM models to retain this setup.
Rear seats of a Pontiac Firebird coupe, showing limited legroom and folded-forward seatbacks
The back seat, while technically present, wasn’t exactly spacious. It did see regular use hauling my younger sister and her friends. The fold-down seatbacks, however, significantly increased cargo capacity for larger items.
So, what was it like to live with this car? As the title suggests, it was a mixed bag. Visually, I was smitten. I admired and still admire the sleek lines of these final F-body Pontiacs. Simple, elegant, and undeniably sporty. However, the realities of 90s GM build quality soon became apparent. Closing the long driver’s door often resulted in the dew strip popping loose from the door lip. New dew strips and clips failed to remedy this, suggesting a fundamental design or assembly flaw common to these models. Headlight malfunctions were another quirk. Randomly, one headlight would refuse to pop up, sometimes they’d take turns being uncooperative! Engine work was a chore. That beautiful, aerodynamic body crammed the engine far under the windshield, making even routine tasks like oil changes unnecessarily difficult. Spark plug replacement, done after the engine rebuild for reasons I can’t fully recall, consumed the better part of a Saturday. Working on the V6 was enough to make me shudder at the thought of tackling the V8 version. While the T-tops were a highlight, they were prone to leaking. The joint where the A-pillar, windshield header, and frameless window glass met was a prime entry point for water, dripping directly onto your left thigh or seat if parked on an incline. A dedicated towel lived in the backseat for rainy day duty. My car also lacked the T-top sunshades. Parking in the sun transformed the seatbelt buckles into branding irons. One memorable instance resulted in a square-shaped burn on my forearm courtesy of the buckle. Sun exposure also caused the plastic front fenders and doors (similar to the Fiero and Saturn) to expand, making them reluctant to open. Seeking shade became a parking priority.
Close-up of Pontiac Firebird T-tops, highlighting the joint where water leaks were common, with a view of the car's interior
The T-tops were undoubtedly my favorite feature, frequently removed on pleasant days. However, the top left corner of the image highlights the notorious leak point that often resulted in wet legs while driving in the rain.
My previous benchmarks for fun-to-drive cars were my Fiero and my dad’s 1988 Fiero Formula. The Formula begged to be revved and tossed into corners. One might expect the Firebird to offer a similar experience, but that assumption would be wrong. The 3800 engine is a robust and reliable powerplant, but it felt more at home in a Buick LeSabre than a “sporty” car. It didn’t enjoy high revs and lacked the nimble, engaging handling of the Fiero. The Firebird often felt like piloting a whale in comparison. The smiles per mile factor, so prevalent in the Fiero, were noticeably absent. Perhaps I’m being harsh, but the Firebird felt like a step backward in terms of driving enjoyment compared to the Fiero.
The trunk’s unusual shape was another quirk. The T-tops stowed in the lower section, but only with the flimsy liner flipped forward. The upper portion was only practical for smaller items.
Life moved on. I drove the Firebird throughout my junior and senior years of high school. It proved reliable transportation and served its purpose. Winter driving, however, highlighted the limitations of rear-wheel drive compared to the front-wheel drive Saturn. Our driveway, situated at the bottom of a slight hill, sometimes presented a significant challenge in icy conditions. My sister once effortlessly passed me in her Saturn as I struggled to gain traction on the incline! Winter driving in the Firebird became such a hassle that I often opted to park it and drive something else during the colder months. Despite both being classified as coupes with similar interior volume by the government, the Saturn offered a noticeably more comfortable and practical interior space than the Firebird.
Rear angled view of a silver 1998 Pontiac Firebird emphasizing its taillights and rear design without lower cladding
I always appreciated the rear styling of these Firebirds. Many F-bodies featured extra lower cladding that, in my opinion, detracted from the overall design. The V6 models, like mine, had much cleaner, more streamlined lines. It’s surprisingly difficult to find online images of these cars that aren’t Trans Ams.
In the spring of 2011, college was approaching. My desire to study engineering, run cross country, and attend a smaller college narrowed my choices, leading me to Dordt College in northwest Iowa. The Firebird accompanied me to school for my freshman year. However, it spent much of that year relegated to parking lot duty. At the end of the academic year, I packed up the car and drove back to Iowa City for the summer. Towards the end of summer, the looming tuition bill made it clear I needed funds for the upcoming year. After discussing options with my dad, the decision was made to sell the Firebird. Was I sad? Initially, perhaps a little. But upon reflection, I was more than ready to pass on the joys and frustrations of 90s GM ownership to someone else. I left the car at home for my dad to sell and returned to school in a borrowed vehicle for the next phase of my college years.
As is typical with my COAL stories, the narrative takes a slight detour here. The story of what came after the Firebird will have to wait for another time. During my Firebird ownership, I had two other vehicles that served as winter transportation. Next week’s installment will feature a vehicle initially purchased for parts that proved too good to dismantle. Stay tuned!
