1992 Camaro RS Gets First Wash in 20 Years, Sad News Everywhere, From Engine to Trunk

1992 also marked the 25th anniversary of the Chevrolet pony car that first set wheels on Planet Piston to wage war against the Ford Mustang. Chevrolet splashed some stripes over the hood and trunk, planted a plaque on the dash, and called it a day. After eleven years in production and almost 1,27 million units, the edgy Camaro was retired, leaving the way for the flowy lines of its successor.

Around 2005, one Artic White hatchback 1992 Camaro RS was dumped in a yard in Cincinnati, Ohio, and left there. Over the years, the car began to integrate into its surroundings, with the tires sinking into the dirt all the way up to the rims and serving as rooting agents for wild vines growing into the rubber.

That’s how the car rescuers from WD Detailing found it and dragged it to their shop for a complete cosmetic makeover. Dragged is not a metaphor here since the engine is seized, and the rear wheels are locked (see it in the video below). After nearly two decades of being used as a feeding ground by garden snails, the Camaro gets a much-needed wash.

By 1992, all Camaros were either RS or Z28 – there was no other letter-less base model. The Rallye Sport package was the entry-level option. The standard engine quickly prompted gearheads to translate the RS decals by ‘Really Slow’ – not without reason. The fuel-injected 3.1-liter (191-cubic-inch) six-cylinder plant offered a meager 140 hp and 180 lb-ft (142 PS, 244 Nm).

For comparison, the Z28 alternative could be optioned with the 5.7-liter V8 (350 cubes) that delivered a little more fun: 245 horses and 345 lb-ft of torque (248 PS, 468 Nm). The fun also had a price - $4,000 over the $12,000 of the base RS. Out of the total 1992 Camaro model production, 23,825 units were fitted with the six-pot motor, while the rest of them – 46,182 – shared the other two available powertrains, the 305-inch V8 (5.0 liters) and the Chevy small-block, the 350 that debuted on the Camaro SS in 1967.

One note about the six-cylinder motor in this derelict Camaro: those pistons were not arranged in a single-line architecture but in a very ambitious 60-degree Vee. It and the other two eight-cylinders that powered the Camaros of 1992 were all fuel-injected (multi-point, tuned port, or throttle body).

This RS has a four-speed overdrive automatic transmission (one of the expensive options on the RPO lists, at $530. Only the removable glass roof panels and the air conditioning were pricier). From what I can tell, neither of those is fitted to this car – I don’t see a radio, either – but there is one add-on that’s wildly out of place and planted in plain view.

The hood scoops – fake as midnight solar eclipse – are simple ornaments that serve no purpose whatsoever other than giving the Camaro a questionable cosmetic surgery ‘beautification.’ (Feel free to replace the last word with what you deem more appropriate). Another surprise is the vines’ roots embedded in the tires – literally. By some unknown frippery of nature, the plants decided that rubber was a very nutritious compound. They impaled the tires with complete disregard for the soil on which they were stuck for 19 years.

Another curious feature of Chevrolet engineering of the early nineties – apart from the agriculturally nutritious tires – is the installment of the gas tank. For who knows what purposes, replacing the sending unit was far easier done by cutting the sheet metal in the trunk above the tank rather than dropping the tank and wrenching on it in the traditional manner.

Whoever did this didn’t have the tools, patience, skill, funds, time, or all combined because this Camara looks like it was hacked with a can opener. The front seat shows signs of a similar ‘duct tape/WD-40’ philosophy (or the first part of it, anyway). If it doesn’t ring a bell, please know this: ‘If it moves, but it shouldn’t – use duct tape. If it doesn’t move, but it should – use WD-40.’

This fixer-upper of a Camaro didn’t get the WD-40 treatment where and when it needed it most: inside the cylinder block. Apparently, the engine was seized, and the detailers didn’t take their chances with the V6. Ghetto fuel pump job, ghetto engine maintenance – is this old (and, for some car nuts, very fugly) Camaro worth a road-worthy rescue, or is it just another parts donor?