When I was a kid I sorely coveted a Jaguar. Most of my friends did, too, even if we realized in our heart of hearts that we would probably never own one. Even if we were still saving for a used rust-bucket deluxe so we could get a better job delivering pizzas instead of mowing lawns. Even if we more likely to die of pimples than raw horsepower.
Well, I finally got one. A Jag, that is. I already had, and lived through, pimples long ago.
Granted it’s not the same model I originally craved: this is the Vanden Plas sedan. It’s an old man’s car, but it is a Jaguar. Says so right there on the name plate.
Recently I also did the gas pedal test and yup: it’s got the heart of a Jaguar beneath that tamed exterior.
I had originally lusted after an XKE with a dozen cylinders, long hood and legendary chick-magnet powers. I first saw one up close on a side street near the New York Central Yard Office in Wyandotte, MI. The interior was mostly rubbish and the paint had definitely seen better days. It looked like a failed ‘fixer-up’, but I wanted it. I wanted to carry the banner forward, complete the fixing-up and drive a racing green XKE with more power and speed than any young male not in the Air Force should ever have access to.
Click here to read on, my friend.
You are reading Fixit-Jaguar. Read more from this series of articles.
- Fixing an old Jaguar - 0
- Fixing an old Jaguar - 1