Skip ahead to 1984. I'm married with an entry level engineering job. Since we had just bought a new car, my wife was back in school, and we were paying Silicon Valley rent, money is tight. During one of our weekly dinners at my parent's house, my mom mentions that Mr. Hayes had passed away a few months ago. I had noticed that his car had been sitting in his driveway for quite a while with four flat tires and holes in the cloth roof. I looked at my wife, and asked her if I could buy the car. She replied that our checking account had $150 in it and half of that had to get us to the next payday. So I got up from the table, walked down the street, knocked on the door, and bought a 1965 LeMans convertible for $75.
The following week I met AAA at the car. After they put enough air in the tires to get the car rolling, my buddy, Steve, and I pushed the car down the street to my parent’s driveway. A week later I rented a tow bar and, after putting more air in the tires, I pulled the car the fifteen miles to my two-car carport.
The car had sat for so long the antifreeze had coagulated into a greasy mess. I flushed out the coolant system as best I could, changed the oil and filter, topped off the other fluids, cleaned the plugs, put some oil in the cylinders, and turned the engine by hand a bunch of times. I hooked up a borrowed batter and turned the key. The engine ran, but a banging noise was coming from the bottom end of the 326 cid V-8. Just about the time I turned the key to off, the engine seized.
I rented a cherry picker, and with my dad's help, pulled the engine and transmission. During teardown, I found one of the rod bearings had spun. I had the block hot-tanked and the crank turned 0.010” under. A borrowed inside micrometer indicated the bores were still to spec, so I rented a ridge-reamer and ball hone to clean up the cylinders. All the valves were lapped to their seats with a borrowed lapper that reminded me of an egg-beater. I bought the cheapest rebuild kit that PAW offered (gaskets, rings, timing chain, bearings), rented a ring compressor, and put the engine back together. My dad and I put the engine and tranny back into the car with a borrowed cherry picker. After bolting on all the accessories, it was the moment of truth. I turned the key and the engine ran, but this time without the dreaded banging. Hurray!! All this work was done during late summer and early fall in our carport. Reassembly was a real challenge during the fall because I had to sweep leaves out of the way before I could proceed each day.
With California's lenient safety laws I was able to drive the car during the rain-less summers with the cracked windshield and the shredded top stowed, but that ended when we moved to Pennsylvania two years later. Safety inspections in PA, and subsequently MD, prevented me from driving the car, so the only time she moved was when I trailered her from one parking spot to the next. By this time, disuse had resulted in issues that needed addressing before she’d be road-worthy again.
Finally, I thought her time had come when I took a job in VA and the house we rented had a garage. I excitedly removed fenders, doors, hood and trunk; rebuilt the brake system; replaced the rusted exhaust; and started removing the nearly forty year-old paint. At that point I was informed that my contracting services were no longer needed. With my next job back in MD, the LeMans and all her parts and pieces were trailered to her current resting spot – covered storage behind my garage.
I have considered selling the car a number of times over the years, but my wise wife (hereafter referred to as the Lovely Loriann), has always talked me into keeping it. She reminds me of all the stories I’ve read about guys that have sold their first cars only ending up paying a ton of money years later recreating their dream.
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