Land Rover Monthly

Thoroughbr­ed warhorse

Is a leaf-sprung Lightweigh­t the perfect antidote to over-complicate­d modern motoring? Here’s a cracking warhorse that might just t the bill…

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LRM uncovers a stunning Lightweigh­t from restorer extraordin­aire Tony Hayward

BEAUTY is in the eye of the beholder, so they say, and if your idea of the ideal Land Rover is a workhorse stripped back to its bare necessitie­s, then an ex-military Lightweigh­t could be the perfect match for you – and none could be more beautiful than this stunning example from vehicle restorer extraordin­aire, Terry Hayward. In an age when all vehicles, Land Rovers included, are getting too complicate­d, and styled to within an inch of their lives, the leaf-sprung Lightweigh­t is the perfect antidote. More warhorse than workhorse, it was created for the British military to be slung under a helicopter and dropped on the frontline. To make it as light as possible for its airborne role, every unnecessar­y frill was stripped out. The end result was the “truck, ½ ton, GS, 4x4, Rover 1, FV18101” as the army named it, so eloquently. But any vehicle with a name that takes longer to say than its 0-60mph time is never likely to catch on, so it became (in common parlance) the Lightweigh­t.

The Lightweigh­t is a vehicle that has achieved a remarkable renaissanc­e among enthusiast­s. Back in the late 1990s, when the last of them were sold off by the MOD for new lives in civvy street, you could pick up a battle-scarred veteran for less than £1000. This was at a time when a 4.6 P38 Range Rover would set you back over £50,000. Today, that P38 will most likely be scrapped, or worth a pittance, while the Lightweigh­t in decent condition would most

likely fetch £6000. That is some reversal of fortunes, but it is also an indication of which way the wind’s blowing in classic car circles.

Collectors are, of course, responsibl­e for the remarkable hike in values of old Land Rovers, but that’s no bad thing. At least they are coveted and being preserved, rather than left to rot in the corner of a field or scrapyard. Besides, they are not all destined to be polished within an inch of their lives. The one on these pages has been owned and driven by the same Norfolk enthusiast for several years – and will continue to be enjoyed by that same owner for many more years yet, thanks to Terry’s efforts.

“It’s a local vehicle,” says Terry. “It has had the same owner for several years, who drove it for pleasure and enjoyed it, but it was eventually rotten and falling to bits. He asked me to refurbish it to a nice, reusable state. Typically, I’ve probably gone a bit too far, but my excuse is that I’m a perfection­ist. I can’t do half a job…”

Indeed he can’t. Terry, who runs the aptly-named Hayward Revive company from Fakenham, Norfolk, specialise­s in breathing new life into tired old Land Rovers. In the case of this 1978 Series III Lightweigh­t, it is leaving his workshop in a much finer condition than it would have Lode Lane, Solihull, 42 years ago. It is better than new.

Terry remembers the day in 2019 that he began work on the restoratio­n: “It was obvious straight away that the original chassis was in a bad way. As I stripped down the vehicle it looked even worse. It was rusted through in several places and was much too rotten to contemplat­e repairing, so I ordered a new, galvanised one from Richards Chassis.

“I took all the panels off, one by one, stripped them all to bare alloy and painstakin­gly repaired and repainted them. The steel bulkhead was rusty, but repairable with a little cutting out of the worst bits and welding in new metal, so I restored it. I like to preserve as much as possible of the original vehicle. I examined every single part as I dismantled the vehicle and re-used anything that was still fit for purpose.

“The 2.25-litre petrol engine was stripped and rebuilt. The gearbox had already been recently overhauled, but the axles were also stripped and rebuilt and the propshaft renewed. For safety reasons I replaced all brake components and piping.

“Electrics can sometimes be a nightmare on old vehicles, but not this one. The original loom was still in place: I thoroughly tested it and it was fine. But the seats – three in the front and two bench seats in the rear – were shot and so I replaced them.

“The tyres were nearly new and good for many more miles yet, but I removed them from the wheels to have them shotblaste­d back to bare steel and repainted, then refitted the tyres.”

Putting the beast back together again was a bit of a nightmare. “The panels on a Lightweigh­t are very thin and flimsy; they were designed that way to keep weight down, but that means they are really hard to line up. I got there in the end, though. I decided to reinforce the rear panels so they didn’t split in the future.”

I suspect that Terry’s concern about panel gaps is somewhat greater than anyone at Land Rover in the 1970s, because the fit he achieved is as good if not better than

practicall­y every Series Land Rover I’ve ever seen.

The leaf springs were cleaned up and re-used and a new exhaust fitted. The cockpit, meanwhile, is all standard. The bare metal dash with its simple instrument gauges is original, although Terry did service them and clean up the dials. There’s no radio, nor creature comforts: not even rubber mats on the floor. No power steering, either, and the owner has thankfully resisted the temptation to swap the original steering wheel for a Momo replacemen­t. And talking of steering, there’s no power steering on this beast. Driving a standard military-issue Lightweigh­t puts the austere into austerity, all right.

According to Terry, who stripped the paint off the panels, the original finish was standard Land Rover Bronze Green, “with three or four layers of brush-applied Nato green camouflage over the top”. But the owner prefers the light green shade of very early 80in Series Is, so Terry sourced the modern equivalent and treated the whole vehicle to probably the best paint job ever seen on a Lightweigh­t. It really is stunning.

The only other change from standard was the placement of the spare wheel. On a Lightweigh­t it is usually fixed atop the bonnet, which doesn’t exactly aid visibility for the driver, particular­ly those that are slightly vertically-challenged. To solve that problem, Terry built a custom bracket to stow the spare behind the front row of seats. Very neat it looks, too.

“Hours and hours of detailing followed,” says Terry. But he was thrilled with the end result. I met him when he took it for a test drive along the local lanes and I have to agree. It is stunning.

“It was a six months project if I had done nothing else, but the owner wasn’t in a hurry so it took a year and half, fitted in between other jobs. It was a real labour of love,” he says, with a smile. And I’m sure the owner’s smile was even bigger when he picked it up a couple of days later.

 ??  ?? Leaf springs are standard; chassis is galvanised
Leaf springs are standard; chassis is galvanised
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 ??  ??
 ??  ?? No mistaking the Lightweigh­t's distinctiv­e face
No mistaking the Lightweigh­t's distinctiv­e face
 ??  ?? Splendidly uncluttere­d interior
Splendidly uncluttere­d interior
 ??  ?? Better than new: No Lightweigh­t left Lode Lane looking this good
Better than new: No Lightweigh­t left Lode Lane looking this good
 ??  ??
 ??  ?? Spare wheel moved from bonnet to behind the front seats
Spare wheel moved from bonnet to behind the front seats
 ??  ?? This has to be the shiniest Lightweigh­t footwell in the world
This has to be the shiniest Lightweigh­t footwell in the world
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 ??  ?? The last of the British Army SIII Lightweigh­ts, on exercise with 4 PARA in Wales in 1997
The last of the British Army SIII Lightweigh­ts, on exercise with 4 PARA in Wales in 1997
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