​The Classic Car & Restoration Show at the NEC, hosted annually by Practical Classics magazine, has become a favorite of OUMF members in the past few years. OUMF is a club that prides itself on its can-do attitude as can be seen throughout countless event and race emergencies throughout the club’s history! The Practical Classics Classic Car & Restoration Show gives the opportunity for OUMF members to showcase not only the products of their labors but also the techniques and skills built and refined through teamwork and collaboration.

​Introduction
The headliner, also known as the roof lining, is the fabric panel that spans the interior of the roof above the heads of the occupants, and in the Kestrel’s case, the fabric extends down the B and C pillars to the waistline of the car. It is suspended from 6 arched metal rods that slide into pockets on the upper, roof side of the lining and their ends locate in holes in the cant rails down either side of the inside of the roof. Over time, headliners can sag, tear, rot, become damaged by UV, or stained by tobacco smoke and hair products. The process of replacing the headliner is a painstaking but rewarding process which can greatly improve the overall look and feel of the car. With the average price to install a headlining kit ranging from £250-£500, our aim was to document the entire process so that other enthusiasts might feel confident enough to tackle the replacement and do a professional job, at a fraction of the price. While our headlining is known as a suspended headliner, and this is a report on the fitting of this specific kit, the steps are applicable to many other models and designs.

Those of you who have been following OUMF recently will have seen that we now have a current project in the form of a Riley Kestrel. This has been on display to the public at the NEC Classic Motor Show in November 2022, and many will have seen it in a particularly sorry state… body panels missing, half painted, no interior - the list of things that were missing or badly damaged was probably longer than the list of what was present. Some of you may wonder, what prompted this departure from the dedicated competition car projects to date, and where did this car come from?

However, before I address these questions, I should first say that – possibly to the surprise of many - this wasn’t how we got it, even though it was fully running and driving when it arrived! So, how on earth did the car end up in the state that is in now?

​The problem that we had with the 1968 Riley Kestrel project arose only after painting the interior of the shell and then comprehensively lining the floor, doors, and other panels with a sound-deadening product called Kilmat. This is a butyl rubber backed foil, similar to other products like Dynamat, and is a dense, malleable sheet - very like the bitumen panels found on older cars - that absorbs drumming, and drivetrain and road noise very effectively. Once the lengthy process of cutting it to shape, sticking it down, and thoroughly rolling it into place is completed, it is extremely difficult and very messy to remove. The Kestrel came to us following extensive renovation of the floor, including replacement of the sills and much of the floorpan. We stripped the floor inside back to bare metal and it was very sound prior to painting with Rustbuster epoxy mastic , and top coat in body colour. The underside had been finished with a coating of black ‘schutz’ type underseal which was lavishly applied and did not appear to need further attention - all of which gave us the confidence to apply the Kilmat.

It was at this point that two issues arose in quick succession. The first was that we were kindly donated an LCB manifold and pipework by John Ashley Exhausts, and Joe Ellis at BTB Exhausts generously offered to help by undertaking various modifications in the course of making it fit as snugly along the underside of the car as he could. His artistry resulted in there being very little clearance between the stainless steel silencer boxes and the walls of the tunnel - which looked fantastic, but spelled big trouble for the very meltable Kilmat now glued just above it. The second problem was the chance discovery that the schutz underseal had been applied to bare steel – without any signs of...