Random XJ6: How a Jaguar Made Me Fall in Love with Cars
Before that moment, cars were just appliances. Then a parked XJ6 upended my perspective.
“Oh, wow. That’s it, isn’t it? Are you going to buy it? You should buy it,” she said. It was the summer of 2003, and my girlfriend Nicolet and I had just gotten off the ferry in Vashon, Washington.
We’d come over from Seattle so I could look at what she’d referred to, just moments earlier, as “some old car.” But as it rolled slowly toward the passenger pickup area, it was clear the 1978 chocolate brown Jaguar XJ6 L had already won her over. And while I was trying not to let how gorgeous it looked in the gauzy Northwest sun cloud my judgement, I had fallen hard.
The trip to that ferry terminal began 25 years earlier on a cobblestone street in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I’d guess I was about four. My folks and I had come into the city to have lunch with my grandparents, and we were walking along the sidewalk when I stopped to look at a car. Against a backdrop of malaise-era junk, it glimmered like a jewel. While I certainly had toy cars at that point, until that moment, I’d never seen a real one that looked like a sculpture, like a striking and sincere work of actual art.
Realizing that he was witnessing a tectonic shift in the mind of his young son, my father stopped and gave me a guided tour of the exterior. The graceful line which runs from tip to tail, sculpted door handles, twin gas caps, famous four-light fascia, and blindingly bright wire wheels. It was a revelation. Before that moment, I don’t remember thinking about cars at all.
Jaguar first released the XJ in 1968, and while the styling would evolve over the next four decades, every generation — until the 2008 redesign — lovingly referenced the original’s lines. The XJ was the last car that Jaguar co-founder Sir William Lyons was personally involved with, and in my opinion, the Series I and II cars are the prettiest by a country mile. I still think it’s crazy their value has never really climbed.
After I saw that first Jaguar, I started paying attention to cars, and remember identifying makes and models while driving my parents. While I never had much mechanical aptitude, I read Car and Driver and Road & Track and all the car magazines I could find. Unfortunately, I’d learn that while they were sexy performers, Jags never had the best reputation for reliability. So when I discovered there was a cottage industry that made kits to swap Chevy drivetrains into the XJ, I took note, and would scour classifieds looking for what some purists refer to as a “lump.”
But it wasn’t until 2003 that circumstances aligned, and I was in a position to actually stop the endless browsing and buy. The candidate I’d found in Auto Trader had been used as a daily driver by a Boeing engineer, who’d done the swap himself, using a rebuilt Impala motor, a T350 transmission, and a kit from John’s Cars. His name, coincidentally, was John, and he’d graciously offered to pick Nicolet and I up at the ferry terminal.
Since I’ve spent the last 15 years in the automotive world, it’s a little funny to think that when I climbed into that old XJ on Vashon, it was the first time I’d ever so much as sat in a Jaguar. It smelled of old leather with undertones of Meguiar’s, and wasn’t so much worn out as broken in. I hadn’t even driven it yet, and I was already in love. Fortunately, the experience behind the wheel didn’t disappoint either. On the twisty roads of the island, it handled better than a machine that weighed nearly 4,000 pounds had any right to, and the small block under the hood provided plenty of punch.
A little more than an hour after he’d picked us up at the terminal, we’d struck a deal. John then directed us back to his home and we had a cup of tea with his wife, while they shared stories about their beloved “Chocolate Decadence.” When we drove away, they both stood in the driveway to wave goodbye.
That car, somewhat uncreatively renamed “Kitty,” served as my daily driver for the next few years. Over that time, as I’ve written about here previously, the Chevy bits were the only ones that gave me any problems, and every time I dropped into the driver’s seat, regardless of what else was happening in my life, I felt like royalty. At one point, the headliner started to droop, and Nicolet spent most of a Sunday morning pinning it back up. When she was done, the arrow-straight lines looked factory, and complemented the interior beautifully.
I still regret that I had to let that old XJ go. At the time, I was moving to California, and just wasn’t at a place in my life where I could afford to keep it. So when I read threads like this one from Jahmiata, I always get a little jealous. But I’m glad to know that there will be another Series I XJ back on the road soon.
I’d love hear about what drew you toward Jaguars, or cars in general, so hit the link below to share your story!