This week, the 1966 Gilbern GT is finally heading in for its first proper inspection at a local garage here in Cardiff. It’s also (hopefully) going to get its seatbelts sorted—though I’ve only made it halfway through fitting the passenger side before hitting a bit of a stumbling block. But that’s a story for another time.
In preparation, I’ve been getting the car shipshape for its trip to the garage. You know, doing those little pre-flight checks and a once-over to make sure nothing’s dangling, leaking, or hissing where it shouldn’t be.
Then I went to start it… and nothing.
Dead silence. No turnover. Not even a cough or splutter. Just that eerie stillness that classic car owners dread.
(I should say, that when I first started doing this, the battery gauge wasn’t flat!)
So, I did what any reasonable person would do: I posted in the local Gilbern Owners Club group and asked for advice. The suggestions came flooding in—starter motor might be stuck, solenoid could be kaput, and of course, the usual culprit: the battery.
Thing is, the car had started without issue just a few days ago. So I was fairly confident the battery was still good. But with no paperwork showing when it was last changed, and the idea of calling out a trailer (again) making my wallet wince, I decided it was worth a punt.
Finding the Battery (No, It’s Not in the Engine Bay)
Now, I should admit—this is my first classic, and I’m still learning. I assumed the battery would be in the engine bay. Logical, right?
Wrong.
After some rummaging, I eventually found it hidden in the boot, under a cover in the back right corner, tucked beneath the spare wheel. Sneaky little thing. I measured it up and set off on the hunt for a suitable replacement.
After some Googling, I landed on My Motor World, and with a small discount on my first order, I bagged a 12v 45AH battery for £58.58 + VAT. Bonus: they offer local collection from Spartan Motor Factors, which saved on delivery and meant I could get stuck in the next day.
First Time Fitting a Battery (Spoiler: I Didn’t Die)
Now, I’ll be honest—I’ve never changed a car battery before. I had visions of blowing up the electrics or accidentally giving myself a perm with 12 volts. So I consulted Google first.
Turns out, it’s all about the order:
To disconnect: negative off first, then positive.
To reconnect: positive on first, then negative.
With gloves on, deep breath held, and a minor fear of electrocution, I swapped it out. And… it was absolutely fine.
Battery in, terminals tightened, I jumped back into the driver’s seat and turned the key.
It Lives!
The Gilbern fired up first time. Just like that. Not even a hint of protest. I let it run for a good 15–20 minutes to settle everything and smiled the kind of smile only old cars can give you—the one where relief meets joy meets “why did I panic?”
I’m planning to give it a few local runs before the garage appointment, just to make sure everything’s ticking over nicely. It’ll give me some confidence before leaving it in their capable hands.
Was It the LEDs?
I did briefly wonder whether the new LED headlight conversion (see this post) had anything to do with the issue. But they weren’t left on, and in theory, they should draw less power than the sealed beam units I removed.
So I’m chalking this one up to an old battery quietly giving up the ghost.
Lessons Learned?
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Don’t panic—check the simple things first.
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Battery placement in classic cars is never obvious.
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A jump pack might be a wise investment.
Because as confident as I now feel about swapping batteries, it’d be nice to avoid doing it in the pouring rain on the side of the road.
So, the Gilbern lives to fight another day—and more importantly, it should be ready to make it to the garage under its own steam.
Let’s see what they uncover…
