Finding an unmolested classic from the dawn of the muscle car era is getting to the level where a celebration is in order, that’s how rare of an event it slowly becomes. However, finding rust buckets balances that off perfectly. After all, if the good ones are getting scarcer by the day, it means they either get bad, saved, or scrapped. Well, the ’64 Le Mans recently saved by a couple of wrenching YouTubers is almost all of that.
When a vehicle has spent nearly five decades off the road, expectancy is high about things wrong with it. Richard and Christina Rust of the What the Rust? YouTube channel recently acquired a 1964 Pontiac Le Mans two-door Sport Coupe that had been parked since 1979. After 47 years of silence, the duo set out to revive the machine. Which sounds good (the plan), until they check the car, at which point the plan goes to you-know-where.
Purchased sight unseen after the seller slashed the asking price in half, the Pontiac spent its early life in Fullerton, California, before moving to Tennessee about ten years ago. Because it only saw fifteen years of active road duty in a dry climate, the structural integrity remained in remarkably good condition.
However, 47 years of motionlessness tend to do a number on all the parts that were designed to motion. Like, say, wheels, suspension, engine, transmission, brakes – you get the idea. Even the unloading process proved tricky, as the car lacked both functional brakes and a working Park gear on its transmission selector.
Photo: YouTube/What The Rust?
Finished in a pale green repaint applied over silver and the factory green hue, the exterior wears its age with honesty. The sheet metal features original rear quarter panels and a clean roof devoid of vinyl top rust. However, decades under a scorching sun baked the chrome right off the rear bumper, while the front-end misses one headlight bezel and the passenger side bears two noticeable dents in the door and rear quarter.
Rolling on aftermarket Center Line wheels at the rear and temporary 14-inch Chevrolet rollers up front, the Pontiac hides a few oddities underneath. The rear features old air shocks with a leaking air line, and the entire rear brake assembly was mysteriously stripped off decades ago. Inside the cabin, the floor pans are solid in the back and completely shot under the gas pedal, though the rear bench seat, headliner, glovebox, and driver door panel are missing.
The dashboard retains its factory uncut radio bezel, an intact cigarette lighter, and an odometer reading 77,000 miles. I suspect it’s original, meaning whoever had this car put an average of 5,100 miles on it every year. This old Poncho features front bucket seats without a center console, paired with a column-shifted automatic transmission.
Photo: YouTube/What The Rust?
While vacuuming the interior, Richard discovered an old key tucked into a corner that operated the door locks and rotated the worn ignition switch. A rusted trunk floor remained the worst non-mechanical flaw on the car.
Popping the hood revealed the dark side of storing a vehicle under a tarp, as trapped moisture had covered the engine bay in heavy surface rust. The car is equipped with the optional 326-cubic-inch (5.3-liter) Pontiac V8, which came completely seized. The radiator was missing, the plastic fan shroud was shattered, and a mud dauber nest had thoroughly plugged the venturis of the two-barrel carburetor. What more could one ask for? Oh, just wait for it.
Richard pulled the old Champion J12Y spark plugs, noting that one plug had carbon bridging the electrode gap, which might have caused a misfire that parked the car in 1979. A borescope inspection showed clean cylinder walls, so he filled all eight cylinders with a 50/50 mixture of acetone and automatic transmission fluid. Checking the dipstick, however, revealed an overfilled crankcase contaminated with clear water.
Photo: YouTube/What The Rust?
While the cylinders soaked, he removed the tightly bolted valve covers to find thick black sludge and surface rust across the valvetrain. Using a brass hammer, he tapped the valves to confirm they were bouncing freely and not stuck in their guides. After draining a large volume of what can be best described as” mud” from the oil pan, a breaker bar and cheater pipe on the crankshaft bolt coaxed the 326 V8 into moving.
The next morning, after removing a petrified fan belt fused to the pulleys, Richard worked the crankshaft back and forth until it rotated through a full revolution. However, two hydraulic lifters were stuck in the raised position due to heavy sludge buildup. Pouring diesel fuel directly into the lifter valley and tapping the components freed the stubborn lifters, restoring tension and movement across all 16 rockers.
Removing the oil pan drain plug again unleashed thick, gelatinous chunks of black sludge that required prodding with a screwdriver to clear. To clean the internal passages, Richard poured six dollars’ worth of diesel fuel into the crankcase for a multi-stage flush, repeating the process three times before refilling with fresh motor oil. He also freed up a dry, seized power steering pump and cleaned the carburetor in an ultrasonic bath.
Photo: YouTube/What The Rust?
With the rear axle placed safely on jack stands to prevent the misaligned transmission linkage from engaging gear, it was time to test the electrical system. Jumping the starter trigger wire at the horn relay confirmed the starter motor was functional. After replacing a faulty negative battery cable, cleaning oil-fouled spark plugs, and giving the intake a shot of starting fluid, the engine began to detonate.
Adjusting the distributor timing twice proved to be the magic touch. On the next crank, the 326 V8 roared to life for the first time in 47 years, building oil pressure and belching thick clouds of white and black smoke from the tailpipe. It ran briefly off the fuel bowl before stalling, proving that the vintage Pontiac heart was still viable despite its noisy valvetrain.
To run the engine longer, the cooling system needed water, which led to the discovery of a rusted thermostat housing and a blown freeze plug leaking behind the starter. Furthermore, one rocker arm remained exceptionally loose despite a straight pushrod and an uncollapsed lifter. Richard pulled the pushrods, cleared their clogged internal oil passages with wire, and reassembled the top end.
Photo: YouTube/What The Rust?
On the final startup, the cleaned pushrods transformed the engine’s behavior, quieting the clatter and allowing the Pontiac to settle into a shaky idle. With a replacement freeze plug, a carburetor float adjustment, and a long fan belt still needed, the rescue paused on a triumphant note, proving this 1964 seven-piston V8 survivor is ready for a second lease on life.
Named after the famous 24-hour endurance race in France, the Pontiac Le Mans moniker debuted in late 1961 as a sporty, upscale trim package on the compact Tempest line. Featuring bucket seats and distinctive badging, it occupied the top tier of the Tempest hierarchy through 1963 before transitioning onto the newly enlarged intermediate A-body platform for 1964, where it famously spawned the GTO performance option.
Production figures across the years reflect the shifting tides of the American automotive market. During the first generation, Pontiac built 7,455 Tempest Le Mans coupes in 1961, jumping to 55,221 units in 1962 (39,662 coupes and 15,559 convertibles) and 61,658 units in 1963. Entering the intermediate era, total Le Mans output reached 108,630 units in 1964 (including GTOs), 182,905 in 1965, 135,967 in 1966, and 104,902 in 1967.
Photo: YouTube/What The Rust?
The 1964 Le Mans was offered two-door body styles riding on a 115-inch wheelbase: Sport Coupe (post), pillarless hardtop, and convertible. Excluding the 32,450 GTO-optioned cars, regular Le Mans production totaled 76,180 units. The hardtops were the hotcakes, with 31,310 copies sold (plus another 18,422 GTOs). Most of them came with V8 power (23,901).
Under the hood, the standard 1964 Le Mans powerplant was a 215-cubic-inch (3.5-liter) inline 6-cylinder rated at 140 horsepower at 4,400 rpm. Buyers wanting V8 power could step up to the 326-cubic-inch Pontiac V8, offered with an 8.6:1 compression ratio and a two-barrel carburetor making 250 horsepower, or a 10.5:1 High Output single-quad version delivering 280 horsepower. Checking the 295-dollar GTO option unlocked the 389-cubic-inch V8 with 325 horsepower (four-barrel) or 348 horsepower (Tri-Power).
Transmission choices for 1964 began with a standard column-shifted 3-speed manual, while optional gearboxes included a floor-shifted 3-speed heavy-duty manual, a Muncie 4-speed manual (available in wide-ratio or close-ratio configurations), and the 2-speed TempesTorque automatic transmission.
