Making a 1968 Land Rover less awful

Quick update from an oily keyboard

Cars are ‘supposed’ to have all the qualities that Land Rover never used to bother with. Comfort, safety, smoothness and other such feeble bourgeois nonsense. So when you’re behind the wheel of a 56-year-old workhorse / adventuremobile / tool-shed like mine, you’ll find it either ghastly or magnificent, depending on your perspective. Like your first encounter with a hungry bear, you’ll be fascinated and maybe a little impressed, but too scared to want it living in your garage.

Accepting some degree of crapness is part of the ownership experience. You try to improve things by modifying or renewing the shonkiest parts, but one person’s ingenious upgrade is another’s hideous ruination, so if you’re aiming to please anyone but yourself in this game, you’ll lose. There’s only one rule, and it’s this: neglect makes Land Rovers worse.

Physician, heal thy Land Rover

Over Christmas I tried to practice what I preach, so ‘Glug’ reveived some essential tinkering and the addition of a few minor creature comforts. Basic soundproofing, mostly, plus a new door lock to replace the previous owner’s 15-year-old bodge, fresh rustproofing and some new ignition components (again).

For my birthday I gave the engine its first oil change in about five years, and not a moment too soon judging by the sludge that I had to mop out of the filter housing. Glug hadn’t done a huge mileage since the last oil change, but it had survived a couple of layups during which the valve gear had accumulated some surface rust, spotted when I’d taken the rocker cover off. The thought of that gritty oxide being washed down into the sump and splashing around the pistons made my blood run cold. Nobody likes a gritty bottom.

A new door top replaced the rusty original, which was literally bent in half by a Hebridean gale, and an unpleasantly chunky chunk of money was exchanged for a lump of aluminium (shipped from across the Atlantic) which will soon be bolted onto the transfer box to stop it from dumping its oil into the environment.

After all this TLC and misty-eyed soppiness, you’d think Glug would at least be drivable, but… fat chance. He’ll tick over alright, but won’t rev properly without backfiring, popping up through the carburettor rather than down through the exhaust. That says something clever about where in the ignition cycle the problem lies, but it’s too clever for me to remember.

Most of the potentially culpable components are new, and every possible cause has been examined. My beardiest friends tell me there must be an issue with the timing, but I’ve checked and re-checked it against the official info in the original manual, so I know it’s bang on.

Obviously there must be one tiny element I’ve overlooked, one irksome little bastard of a gremlin stubbornly holding on for dear life, white-knuckled and screaming, but my endless attempts to track him down have driven me to the brink of lunacy.

Please send beer.

"The further you travel the less you find you need. It's a good life that teaches you how little you need to be healthy and happy, if not particularly clean!"
Dervla Murphy – Full Tilt: Ireland to India with a Bicycle (1964)

Nerdsome Specificatiousness

1968 Land Rover Series IIA 109in hardtop

• Engine: 2.25-litre, four-cylinder, petrol, eight-valve, OHV.

• Power: 77bhp @ 4250rpm

• Torque: 124lb-ft @ 2500rpm

• Gearbox: Four-speed manual (synchromesh on 3rd & 4th) plus overdrive gearbox. High/low-range transfer box, selectable 4WD.

• Fuel economy: 17-20mpg.

• Brakes: drum brakes front and rear, single-line, non-assisted

• Steering: worm gear, non-assisted

• Is it a Defender? No