Eoin recalls memorable moments at the wheel of a C-Type Jaguar and a Ferrari 375MM.

It must be difficult for a motor racing generation that grew up with the 895kW turbocharged Porsche 917 sports racing car to regard the 375 Mille Miglia 4½-litre V-12 Ferrari as a monster when, in 1953, it developed a little more than a quarter of the 917’s power and looked almost lithe alongside the brutish lines of the Porsche. Transposed to 1953, however, the Ferrari was the 917 of its time, a tamer of men, a brute of a car with aggression in its chip-cutter grille, the long nose, and the determined cut of the air scoop to feed those 12 angry cylinders. In those days 895kW (1200hp) would have covered the front row of most sports car grids!

During a lull in the 1975 Stuyvesant series of F5000 races in New Zealand I took time out to try the only ex-works 375MM Ferrari sports car in captivity south of the equator (perhaps in the world?), which was being restored to its former thundering grandeur by Christchurch enthusiast, Gavin Bain. Bain prefers to be regarded as an enthusiast. “I don’t like the word collector — it sounds as though you wrap cars up in cotton wool and put them away.”

Three days earlier, Bain had been racing the Ferrari in a special historic event at Wigram. It had arrived in New Zealand from England only four months earlier with the engine in the passenger’s seat, the Pinin Farina body battered with straw bale bruises and dents filled with dollops of fibreglass. Panel craftsmen at Auto Restorations in Christchurch had done a tremendous job, and the engine bay was next on the list. “We pulled the top and bottom off the engine and it looked okay for the moment, so we bolted it back together for the Wigram race.”

My only instructions before I went out for a track acquaintance with the Ferrari at Ruapuna were not to use too many revs, and not to spread it all over the circuit!

Track Performance

Any observations of track performance by me would be superfluous to the record of this famous Ferrari, built late in 1953 as a works team car which won first time out in the Casablanca 12-hours driven by Farina and Scotti. In January 1954 Farina shared the car with Maglioli for the first long-distance championship sports car race to be held in Argentina. It followed a 5.88-mile course and used the outer perimeter of the Buenos Aires Autodromo as well as a stretch of the neighbouring dual carriageway, complete with an intersection and a roundabout.

The field of 37 cars included works cars from Aston Martin, Ferrari and Borgward plus an Ecurie Ecosse C-Type Jaguar. Farina made a leisurely start, but soon worked his way up from fifth place into the lead and set a lap record of three minutes, 34.6 seconds (158.98kph/ 98.79mph) before handing over to Maglioli with a safe lead. The DB3S Astons were the best of the rest but no match for the 375MM, and after 66 laps the second-placed Aston of Parnell/Salvadori went out with electrical problems, and Farina/Maglioli won the opening race of the 1954 season by a clear three laps from a 3.0-litre Ferrari driven by Schell and de Portago and the Collins/Griffiths Aston Martin.

It is of nostalgic note to observe that the 4.5-litre Ferrari driven by Trintignant and Rosier, which had led on the opening lap and held second place to Farina until it slowed with pit problems to an eventual seventh place, is also owned by Gavin Bain. The car was restored to its original Rosier Grand Prix configuration, and is now in the impressive Grand Prix collection of one Bernard Charles Ecclestone. Carrying historical coincidence almost too far, the Collins/ Griffiths DB3S was owned by Leon Witte, Bain’s near-neighbour in Governor’s Bay near Christchurch.

The Ferrari works team for 1954 was to be made up of more powerful 4.9-litre cars so the superseded models were sold off, chassis number 0370AM going to American privateer of colourful note, Masten Gregory.

True to what was about to become his form, Masten almost wrote the Ferrari off against a tree in his first race, and the car went back to Maranello for a rebuild. Masten then campaigned it throughout Europe in the 1954 season, finishing fourth in the Rheims 12-hour with Biondetti in July, third three weeks later in the Portugese GP for sports cars at Monsanto, second in a short sports car race at Goodwood in September, first at Aintree in October, second at Montlhery, and then he shipped the car across the Atlantic to win the Bahamas Automobile Club trophy in Nassau.

Masten kept the Ferrari in the States for national events, claiming it was the best racing car he had ever owned, and at one point it was maintained by the legendary Alfred Momo who cared for the Cunningham stable.

History has an annoying way of clouding over various periods of the lives of famous cars, but this particular 375MM rested for some time in the private collection of Carl D Bross before it was brought to England and eventually acquired by Bain.

A Pinch-me Situation

Although Bain won’t accept the label ‘collector’, his stable consisted at that time of the 375MM, the Rosier 4.5-litre V12 Ferrari, a Super Squalo Ferrari being rebuilt, a 1920 Brescia Bugatti, a 1924 3.0-litre Bentley, a 37.2 H63 Hispano-Suiza, a 1908 Humber, a 1912 Silver Ghost Rolls Royce, a pair of 1924 Humbers, an XK120 Jaguar, a 1935 Bentley 3½-litre, the famous twin-engined Bimotore Alfa Romeo (more correctly the Aitken Alfa and now sadly less engine), a share in a 1935 2.0-litre Alta and “a dozen assorted motorcycles.”

It must be the wish of every red-blooded enthusiast to take the wheel of a car like the Ferrari for a few laps of a track, but that day on the little Ruapuna circuit on the outskirts of Christchurch, I found myself in one of those absurd pinch-me situations which happens to everyone perhaps only once in a lifetime.

A Big Cat Joins the Prancing Horse

I drove to the track in the ex-Peter Whitehead C-Type Jaguar, burbling through suburban traffic and blasting when the road was clear. I parked in the pits, and climbed into the Ferrari. Nobody, unless Mike Hawthorn had the opportunity in 1953 or 1954, has probably ever stepped straight from a C-Type Jaguar into a works Ferrari! It was a chastening thought.

The C-Type drive was something of a lifetime ego trip for me, which did nothing to dilute the thrill of the Ferrari. I had ridden in the C-Type with namesake David Young, who raced the car in New Zealand sports car races back at the dawn of my interest in motor sport. The car was then owned and occasionally raced by Ray Archibald, the Jaguar dealer in Christchurch who made a formidable reputation in the ’50s and early ’60s with his fluid style at the wheel of various racing Jaguars.

The C-Type was delivered to the Whitehead brothers through Henly’s Garage in London in April 1953, and was raced by both Peter and Graham before Peter brought it out for the Mt Druitt six-hour sports car race in Australia. He retired with unspecified problems, and sold it to New Zealander Jack Tutton who was at the race. Tutton later set a national Class C speed record at 232kph (144mph) in New Zealand before selling the car to Des Wilde, who on-sold it to David Young.

In 1961 it went to Garth Forsythe, who began a rebuild he never finished, and the Archibald brothers bought it in 1966 for £1100. Ian Archibald first raced the C-Type at a local race in 1970, surviving an early morning spin on black ice on the way to the Levels track in South Canterbury, and a second spin during the race! After that the driving was taken over by his brother Ray.

But back to the Ferrari!

V12 Surge

I shoehorned Gavin’s crash helmet on and adjusted the period goggles, which I discovered reflected back at me disconcertingly from the five instrument dials like five images of a ham racer in one of those dreadful motor racing movies pre Grand Prix.

The throttle pedal was stiff, but the surge of the V12 was super-smooth as I drove out on to the track. The V12 engine was based on the 4.5-litre Ferrari Grand Prix engine, but was not in fact a GP unit. It had a compression ratio of 9:1 and delivered 254kW (340bhp) at 7000rpm. The V12 had a single cam per bank with three inverted four-barrel Weber carburettors. The gearbox was a four-speeder and the brakes drum. It had a tube chassis with independent front suspension via upper and lower wishbones, with a transverse leaf spring and stabilising rod, and a solid rear axle with four pushrods, longitudinal leaf springs and Houdaille shock absorbers as original equipment.

The Moss gearbox on the C-Type had been fairly slow to use, but the tall lever on the Ferrari was a real butter-slicer. Gavin had suggested a rev limit of 6000rpm but I volunteered 5500rpm, reckoning caution to be less expensive than lead-foot valour, Ferrari racing parts being a touch pricey, even then.

Through the big, slim-rim wheel were the tachometer which ran to 8000, the speedometer (disconnected) which read to 300kph, and grouped between were dials for Benzina, Olio and Aqua.

First impressions were that I was sitting very low and sighting over an endless bonnet, second impression was the heaviness of the steering into the tight hairpin and the howling of Bain’s rubber as I bansheed through on each lap. There was a medium-speed right and left which were fun to try and perfect in second, a climb to third on the short back straight and through the long loop, then up to top on the straight. Probably the wrong gears, but wildly invigorating nevertheless.

The hairpin became more and more of a challenge, coming in later on brakes, turning later, until the tail started taking over on about the 15th lap and with all the available helm wound on, we seemed to be cruising with frightening ease (and all sorts of tyre noise) straight into the half-tyre course markers. Fate intervened and the Ferrari stopped before that pristine nose was crinkled — I was imagining my own suffering the same results but that seemed like the signal I had been waiting for to stop being a hero in a car I couldn’t afford to unbend, let alone buy.

I made one last long attempt at getting the loop right, and then peeled off into the pits leaving Gavin wondering whether I had really parked it permanently this time. My earlier effort at the hairpin had registered with them at the loop as a long, rising howl of rubber, a stunning silence, and then a rising sound through the car’s twin exhaust as I applied a nervous dab of throttle.

Car Swap

I was swapping cars for a few laps of the C-Type before our track time expired, but first time into the hairpin using Ferrari limits I discovered the C was altogether a different motor car. It was more petite, cat-like in its advance to a corner, light in the touch and not needing that long strong-arm push to the top of the wheel to hold it in the long turns of the loop and the hairpin. So that’s where Farina got the idea of the arm-stretch driving position! The Ferrari wouldn’t take a hairpin any other way! The C-Type was darting from lock to lock before I managed to gather it up and set off for the right and left which I had sorted out to my personal satisfaction in the Ferrari. Again I was in too deep and too late on the brakes and the rounded tail of the Jaguar was dancing out. The Ferrari brakes had been heavy but positive and by instant comparison, the Jaguar’s anchors only needed a tap and the wheels were locked.

A few laps in the C-Type were enlightening but probably suffered by a longer period with the Ferrari, so that I ended up feeling that if I was in a position to own either it would probably be the Ferrari, discounting my romantic ties with the Jaguar.

I had confounded my own plans by driving the Ferrari first and then the Jaguar, something I had done a couple of years earlier at Silverstone when I drove Tom Wheatcroft’s 1969 four-wheel-drive Cosworth 3.0-litre Grand Prix car first, and then drove the ex-Nuvolari 1933 8CM which felt like a toy after the tussle with the complexity of the Cosworth. If I had driven the Maserati first I would have been more impressed with both cars, instead of treating the 8CM with relative ease after the Cosworth.

Old Time’s Sake

Years later in Britain I learned that Peter Agg had bought the C-Type, and I asked him if I could drive it for old time’s sake. Peter was the boss of Lambretta-Trojan and Elva Cars, and I could remember a long winter afternoon when I was still working for the McLaren Team, and we were arguing whether the production McLaren CanAm ‘customer cars’ would be named Elva-McLarens or McLaren-Elvas. I won.

Peter said I could borrow the C-Type for a drive — and then phoned to say that he had a clash of bookings. He had entered the C-Type for the splendid Ecosse Tour of Scotland and then been offered the chance to skipper a yacht in the Adriatic over the same period. Did I want to take the C-Type on the Ecosse tour of the Highlands, all expenses covered! Did I? You betcha.

I took Nick Mason’s right-hand-man, Michael Hallowes, as my riding mechanic, and early on the morning of the start, Michael went down to find out what was happening. He returned to the room with a wry grin asking whether I wanted the good news or the bad. The bad news? It was raining. And the good news? The C-Type had been delivered. He sounded as though he thought they were both bad news items.

My new time with the C-Type was as ‘owner and entrant’, but I was sitting there before the start without a clue how to fire it. The key was in the ignition but no trace of a starter. I was aware of a bloke peering into the cockpit and asking if I had a problem. It was Neil Corner, who had owned C and D-Types and he probably knew where the starter was. He did. Move the key fob, he said, and there was the starter button. Blush

That tour was a great adventure despite the weather. We drove up Tom ’n’ Toul, the highest motor road in Britain, in a blizzard following a Volkswagen, freezing and blinded by snow. We resolved to stop the VW at the top of the pass and swap cars — whether the VW driver wanted to or not. Unbeknown to me, Tom Candlish was following us over the pass in his C-Type and marvelling at how fast I could go in the terrible conditions without braking. Years later he wrote a piece on the Ecosse Tours and recounted the tale of following me over the pass without a flicker of a brake light. It was only later that he learned the connection to the brake lights had become unplugged!

An Experience to Remember

Those laps at Ruapuna were an experience to remember, having driven both the cars that had battled together that summer 20-odd years before, when both Ferrari and Jaguar had proved capable of winning at Le Mans, when both cars were cheered to the echo as they rolled on to the grid instead of being politely inspected as neo-vintage collector’s items today.

Words: Eoin Young

This article is from Classic Car issue 230. Click here to check it out.

Having built replicas of a Porsche Speedster and a Jaguar XK120 in his home garage, Dave is well placed to offer sound, practical advice to budding kit-car builders

Deciding whether or not to tackle a DIY car-building exercise is not easy, least of all the decision as to what sort of vehicle to tackle. There is a wide range of possibilities — all the way from a very individual one-off special, through an assortment of variations on the ‘LSIS’ (‘Lotus-Seven-Inspired-Sports’ car), to individually-styled ‘kit’ cars and replicas of famous production cars.

There are literally hundreds of manufacturers around the world from which to choose, even after the basic style of car has been determined — some turning out most of the key components while others produce ‘kits’ that are like a glorified Meccano set, complete down to the last nut-and-bolt.

As always, you pays your money and you takes your choice as the old adage goes, and serious research at this stage is absolutely essential.

The exercise is going to be a lengthy, difficult and expensive one, and you need to be sure this is something you really want to tackle.

Talk to people who have built the sort of thing that you have in mind, ask what they would have done differently with the knowledge they now have, read as much as you can about it all and if, after that, the whole job looks too daunting, then please think again.

The Necessaries

This game may not be for you, but if it is make sure you have available the means required — and I don’t mean just the money, of which you’ll need more than you might expect!

Depending very much on how much you are able and intending to do yourself — like welding and so on, for example — and to what extent you are buying in parts and services, your needs will vary enormously.

While there have undoubtedly been cases of cars being built quite successfully out in the back garden and with the most basic of tools, you really do improve your chances of turning out a decent result if you give yourself a fair go. You must have adequate space, decent lighting, and the tools to do whatever parts of the job that are, for you, truly DIY.

Floor space of about twice the size of the car will enable you to approach work from both sides, and a lot can be achieved with a decent socket set — the next most important thing to a good jack (or even two) and a set of axle stands.

My experience has been that the building of a car is an enormous project which has all the potential to keep you awake at night, while on the other hand if you can reduce it in your mind to a thousand-and-one small tasks to be tackled individually, it suddenly becomes achievable, and even enjoyable in a sometimes masochistic sort of way.

The Bits and Pieces

Unless you take the approach of buying a complete 1:1 scale ‘Airfix/Meccano’ style of kit in which everything is provided except maybe the glue, there will be a need to separately source most of the mechanicals anyway.

The requirements of the individual build will be wide and varied, as will the sources of parts obtained. Trade Me is, as ever, a good place to search, and while it didn’t help me too much it can be a great place to find Japanese parts in particular.

My latest build was a replica of a 1951 Jaguar XK120 with some necessary modifications to conform to local regulations — things like modern door locks, seat belts, windscreen washers, indicators and a high stop light — as well as some optional changes involving better brakes and steering than available in the 1950s, all grafted to a fibreglass body which was imported together with the chassis and some of the ‘shiny bits’.

All this involved chasing parts locally, and I was lucky to acquire a set of original wheels from Bob Smyth that had been put aside when he shouted his 120FHC (featured
in NZCC, May 2001) some shiny new wire wheels.

Ray Andrews of Jaguar Spares & Repairs in Upper Hutt was the source of just about all the other Jaguar necessities — like the 3.4-litre Mk2 engine, five-speed ’box, XJ6 front and E-Type rear suspension and brakes, period instruments (including a lovely old anti-clockwise cable-driven tachometer) and a host of minor parts.

The conclusion I drew was that unless you really want to spend a lifetime hunting for bits and pieces, then it’s well worthwhile getting alongside a friendly and understanding specialist in dismantling the sort of stuff that you’re after. The satisfaction obtained from finding that special part is more than worth the wee bit of effort involved in the hunting, even when a lot of cleaning and refurbishment is required.

The Paperwork

It is sometimes said that a car is ready to go on the road when the paperwork weighs as much as the engine.

While this is untrue of course — even if you use a lightweight all-alloy job — it needs to be understood that there is no alternative to complying with the many and varied regulations that apply to whatever type of vehicle you build, and this includes keeping up-to-date with the changes that take place during however long it takes you to get to completion and certification.

You can be the ultimate do-it-yourselfer with this too, I suppose, but eventually you’ll need the services of a Low Volume Vehicle Certifier, so you might as well make contact with your local man very early in the piece. Try to make time to have a serious chat about what the official expectations of you are, and of what you are doing.

The Low Volume Vehicle Technical Association is one good place to start.

If you don’t get the paperwork properly sorted your car will never be seen legally on the road. This is a serious warning, and I wouldn’t even think of starting the job without a thorough look at what might be involved — beginning with the LVVTA website www.lvvta.org.nz and a good read of the Low Volume Vehicle Code which is available there.

While all working to the same ends certifiers do seem to have different approaches sometimes, and in my case the certifiers from the Constructors Car Club www.constructorscarclub.org.nz) saw me through with a progressive programme, as opposed to their going over the completed vehicle. Their visits and inspections of my handiwork took place at various stages of the construction.

A certification plate was subsequently issued and riveted on by the certifier personally, after which it was possible to register the car, get a Warrant of Fitness and drive the darned thing, which was a wonderful feeling I don’t mind admitting, and far superior to that of handing over a cheque and driving any car out of a showroom.

The Lessons

Now retired, after a working life in what my father would have called a ‘shiny seat job’ behind various office desks, I quickly discovered that there were many skills I had not acquired.

Having therefore established my amateur status in this game and applied some enthusiasm, a lot of reading and much practice to the completion of two cars, I think I may be qualified to offer some advice to others who may be similarly misguided.

In summary, my ‘top 10’ tentatively suggested tips go a bit like this:

Do the Research

The exercise is always going to be long, difficult and expensive. If the car itself is really the objective, rather than the exercise and stimulation involved in the construction, it may be more worthwhile to seek a completed one. Consider carefully why you are really setting off on this journey, and if you decide to do so then jump in with both feet and paddle like hell for as long as it takes.

Check a completed car

Unless you’re intent on producing a one-off, do try to locate and have a good look at a completed car of the type you intend to make, and have a long talk with its builder. If he’s happy to talk about it, that’s probably a sign that the outcome was what was expected; in any case this is the time to try to unearth any potential problems on the basis of another’s experience.

Establish a budget

This is a useful exercise, and at the very least provides a basis for discussion with the rest of the family. My suggestion is that you write down every last thing that you can think of, like the basic kit parts, parts from donor vehicles, paint, upholstery and so on. Make it as full as you possibly can, put a reasonable estimate of the cost of each and, if you can stand the pain, add it all up — and then double it!

You should be fairly close, and if you haven’t already given up on the whole idea let me explain.

Most of us won’t be able to do our own welding to an acceptable standard for example, and you’ll probably have to pay retail for every single nut, bolt, washer and so on that you’ll need to renew, and this sort of thing simply runs away with money when building your pride and joy and wanting to get it right.

Safety, Safety, Safety

Much of a car-building job will be done alone, which is the worst possible time to have a mishap, so safety is paramount. Please do make sure you have adequate lighting and all the usual safety gear, most important of which just has to be a good strong set of axle stands for those times when you are underneath the job.

There’s not much point in turning out a superb piece of motoring magic for everyone else to admire if you’ve done yourself a mischief, and aren’t around to enjoy it.

Do not be too Proud to Seek Help

There are people who can do the whole job unaided, but I’m not one of them. Rather than adopt some macho ‘let’s have bash and see what happens’ style of working, it makes much more sense to talk things through with someone knowledgeable and maybe save yourself a fortune.

Talking things through with a sympathetic partner can sometimes be useful, as even if the knowledge itself is a bit short there is always likely to be another viewpoint — for better or for worse, they say.

The alternative, already mentioned, is to hook up with a club or group whose members are misguided(?) enough to be doing something similar. Chances are that you will find understanding and, almost inevitably, someone who has at sometime faced the very problem that you are struggling with.

Me? I was lucky enough to have weekly visits from a fellow Constructors Club member, one Ian Price, with so much mechanical advice and gentle criticism that he was officially appointed my ‘Engineering Insultant’.

Stop while you are winning – tomorrow is another day

Inevitable problems will crop up, seemingly insoluble at times, and rather than stripping that thread or busting those knuckles it’s often worth while to put down the tools (gently now, not by bunging them through the windscreen) and call it a day.

It’s amazing just how much comes right overnight if you just give it a chance and take time out to think things over.

Take time with the wiring

Electrics are a bit of a mystery to many of us, despite the nice explanations you get comparing the flow of volts, watts and amps to water flowing through pipes. Sooner or later you have to tackle the job itself.

First time around I grappled with several birds’ nests of wires, taping them one by one to the chassis until a workable result was achieved before taping it all together into a loom. It worked, which was some sort of miracle and proved that it can be done that way, but for the later job I managed to locate a commercially made loom that only required some very minor alterations — and it looked a heck of a lot neater too!

Don’t paint the body until you’ve finished

There is no rush to get paint on to a car, and I found it best to leave it until just about the last job, on the grounds that it’s easier and cheaper than putting things right after you’ve drilled a hole ‘just slightly’ in the wrong place.

I must confess to having drilled windscreen mounting holes a wee bit too far forward on one job and having to refill them and try again — fortunately before paint had been applied, so while embarrassing it wasn’t too painful

Record part numbers and sources

Parts are likely to come from a variety of sources, even different makes and models of donor car and, aside from sometimes having to prove their suitability to certifiers, should the time come when a replacement is needed it’s very handy to be able to quote the necessary information.

Enjoy yourself

It has been said that the only reason to build a car yourself is that it’s an ego trip, and that may well be true.

I think there’s just a little more than that to it, and the sense of achievement and satisfaction that comes from seeing steady progress of your project is quite different from that which comes from the refurbishment of a middle-aged production car.

I have done both, and while I’m not prepared to rate the respective levels of pleasure and satisfaction to be derived, it is undoubtedly different.

Building your own car is a tremendous experience in a whole variety of ways; you meet some really enthusiastic people on the way through the job, and at the end of it all you may have something you can be proud to show off.

Yeah, okay — so it’s an ego trip. Why not come along for the ride?

Words and Photos: David Bray

Without William Lyons and his inherent sense of style and business acumen, there would have never been a Jaguar car. But it is also doubtful that William Lyons would have ever found his way into the automotive industry if it weren’t for William Walmsley.

In his early years, William Lyons was apprenticed to Crossley Motors Limited, but by the time he turned 18 he had set his sights on a more flamboyant sales career in Blackpool. Lyons had a passion for motorcycles, and by chance met William Walmsley, who was living close by. Walmsley had set up shop in the family garage building sidecars for motorcycles. After they met, Lyons purchased one of the sidecars and a short time later, the pair started in business together, forming the Swallow Sidecar Company on 4 September 1922. Within four years they were producing 10 sidecars a week, as well as undertaking body repairs. The company name was changed to Swallow Sidecar & Coachbuilding Company.

The introduction of the Austin 7 in 1922 proved signifi cant for many aspiring coachbuilders. While economical to purchase, the diminutive vehicle consisted of an excellent chassis and lively running gear, a perfect testing ground for the coachbuilder’s craft. Lyons and Walmsley bought their fi rst Austin 7 in 1927, and built a two-seater open sports body for it designed by Lyons. Christened the Austin Swallow, it was an instant success. One London-based Austin dealer ordered 500 duplicates. The following year the Swallow sedan was introduced, also on an Austin 7 chassis. While the company still produced sidecars, its name changed to Swallow Coachbuilding Company.

Going to Coventry

When the company outgrew the Blackpool premises at the end of 1928 it moved to Coventry, the centre of the British automotive industry. While Austin chassis still proved popular, other makes such as Swift, Morris, Wolseley and Standard were used also.

In 1931, John Black of Standard agreed to sell a modified version of the Standard six-cylinder chassis, allowing Swallow to produce the first cars of its own design.

The SSI model was launched at the 1931 Motor Show and a shorter wheelbase version was called the SS2.

These new cars from the Swallow Coachbuilding Company caused a sensation, for while they had the look of a Bentley they sold at less than a third of the Bentley’s price. Many people wondered how the company could build such cars for the price, a question that persisted for many subsequent models.

In 1933 the company’s name was changed again, this time to SS Cars Ltd. However, there was also an amicable parting between Lyons and Walmsley.

Lyons was keen on pressing ahead, enlarging and improving the company, but Walmsley preferred to remain an engineer — he was happier tinkering than running a growing automotive manufacturer.

In the mid 1930s the fi rst of the sports deadmodels appeared, first the SS90, quickly followed by the SS100. Available with either a 1.5 or 2.5-litre engine, the SS100 caused a sensation with its rakish, flashy lines and minimal list price. With multiple competition successes under its belt, the SS100 is counted among the most significant and best-looking sports cars ever built. Of particular signifi cance was the introduction of the 3.5-litre SS Jaguar 100 in 1937. While the war loomed, SS Cars Ltd continued to build vehicles until 1940 when production was given over to the war effort.

Jaguar

The story has been often been told how, while on air raid duty, Lyons, William Haynes and Walter Hassan would plot the direction of the company following the end of hostilities. Their plans included designing a new dohc engine that was destined to become legendary.

With the war’s end, Swallow Sidecars was sold off and the company changed its name to Jaguar Cars Ltd. By July 1945, Jaguar was one of the fi rst British manufacturers to return to vehicle production, albeit with a revised pre-war model. The same year also saw the production of the first LHD vehicles for the burgeoning US market. It wasn’t until 1948 that the first all-new model was introduced, though still with the Standard-based 2.5 and 3.5- litre straight sixes.

The fruit of those war-time discussions was, of course, the XK dohc engine. The intention was to introduce it in a new Jaguar saloon in time for the 1948 London Motor Show.

The company failed to meet the deadmodels line but, still anxious to present the engine to the motoring world, an open sports car was quickly designed and hand built in alloy. Christened the Jaguar XK120, it stole the show, and Jaguar decided to put the car into limited production, retaining the alloy bodywork.

Early Jaguars

Just 240 alloy-bodied XK120s were built, but as demand was so strong production of a steel-bodied version commenced.

That gave rise to the XK range of road cars, among them the 140, 150 — and later E-types (called XK-E in the US). While the Jaguar XK sports cars were more than successful on the track, there were better things to come. Called the XK120C, or just the C-type, and later the phenomenal D-type, these competition Jaguars carried the name throughout the motor racing world with countless wins, including five wins at Le Mans. Proving that the XK engine was suitable for saloons as well as sports cars, the fi rst XK-powered Jaguar saloon was the stately MkVII of 1950. It stayed in production until 1957, when it was replaced by the more luxurious MkVIII. Aiming to appeal to a different sector of the market, Jaguar released its new compact 2.4 and 3.4 sedans in 1956.

Known retrospectively as the MkI following the introduction of the Mk2 in 1959, over 127,000 of these compact Jaguars were built until the model was phased out in 1968.

Despite the success of its more compact vehicles, Jaguar did not neglect the higher end of the market. The MkX of 1961 (and subsequent 420G) set the scene for a range of luxury cars that stayed in production in one form or another for close to 40 years. William Lyons was knighted in 1956 to honour his services to the motor industry.

XJ Models

With the release of the XJ6 in late 1968, all other Jaguar sedans were in effect made redundant. The motoring world was taken aback by the level of sophistication in the new Jaguar, and the XJ6 redefi ned the standard for low levels of road noise and vibration in a new car equipped with radial tyres as standard. The occupants of the cabin were looked after as well, with burr walnut, sumptuous carpet and leather. The design of the XJ6 was unmistakeably Jaguar, with many imposing styling cues carried on from previous models.

Mechanically, the famed XK engine in 4.2-litre form proved ideal for the new luxury Jaguar sedan. To appeal to the economy-driven company car end of the market, a 2.8-litre version was also offered, but less than satisfactory sales caused its withdrawal after just fi ve years.

To augment the XK engine, Jaguar released another bombshell in 1971 — the 5.3-litre sohc V12 engine. First released in the Series 3 E-type, the same engine was fi tted to the XJ sedan the following year. Staying in production until 1986, the original XJ6 proved to be the most popular Jaguar ever, with over 311,000 produced.

Of interest within the XJ series was the two-door XJC coupes, built only in Series 2 body styling. Fitted with both the XK and V12 engines, just 8403 XJCs were built, making the model highly collectable today.

Jaguar, by this stage part of the British Leyland combine, made an abortive return to motor sport with a team of V12 XJCs in the European Touring Car Championships.

E-type replacement

The last E-Type rolled down the production line in 1975, and later on in the same year the V12-powered XJ-S was released. It was the last model Jaguar that Sir Williams Lyons had an involvement with. He retired in March 1972 after 50 years at the helm of the company he started, and died in February 1985.

The ’80s and ’90s was a period of change for Jaguar. Besides the passing of Lyons, it escaped the alliance with Leyland by becoming a public company in 1984. There were also wins at Le Mans in 1988 and 1990, the former ending seven straight wins in a row for Porsche. At the other end of the scale, profi ts were in decline. On 1 January 1990, Jaguar Cars Ltd became a wholly owned subsidiary of the Ford Motor Company.

Into the Future

By the early 1980s, the XK engine was approaching the end of its life. Jaguar’s new engine was a 3.6-litre dohc straightsix christened the AJ6, short for Advanced Jaguar. This new engine was fitted to the XJ-S and, in 1986, to the new XJ40 that also went on to be known as the XJ6.

The XJ-S continued in production and was also offered with the V12 engine. To increase its popularity, a convertible version was available. When discontinued in 1996 it had been in production for 21 years, the longest for any Jaguar.

Under Ford’s control, Jaguar was allowed to maintain some of its distinctive identity. The mid to late 1990s saw new ranges of Jaguar cars, the V6-powered X-type, the S-type and the XK8. The XJ still exists, with a choice of V6 or V8 engine, but with an all-aluminium body revealing those same styling cues from the first XJ in 1968.

Hopefully, the future of Jaguar will be assured despite the recent news from Ford of the closure of thte Browns Lane factory in Coventry.

Words: Patrick Quinn Photos: Mark Quinn

In its day, the legendary XJ12 was considered by many to be the best saloon car in the world — can the new Jaguar XF live up to the benchmark set by it’s illustrious predecessor?

Almost from its initial launch in 1968, the XJ — originally only available in six-cylinder guise — began to draw critical acclaim. Jaguar experienced a slight stutter with the 2.8-litre XK-engined version of the XJ6, but the accolades soon followed when, in 1972, the V12-powered XJ12 burst onto the scene. The V12 E-Type may have been the first production car to benefit from the V12, but the XJ12 received most of the plaudits. Named as the Car of the Year in 1973, the XJ12 — with its smooth, supple ride and powerful engine — quickly earned a reputation as the world’s best saloon car. Today, the XJ12 is considered my many to represent the ultimate in DIY nightmares — my father once owned an example of the splendid Daimler Double-Six variant. It was gorgeous to drive, but an absolute money-pit when it came to ongoing maintenance. Alas, these factors — and woeful unreliability during Jaguar’s dark, British Leyland days — have severely lowered the value of these cars. And with this fall in values, non-enthusiast owners have ruined many a good XJ12 with ham-fisted DIY repairs. As a result, finding a good, well maintained example isn’t that easy any more — but we were lucky enough to find such a Jaguar. All S1 XJ12s are rare — Jaguar only made 3228 examples between 1972 and 1973 — but, for the purposes of our comparison test, we discovered an even rarer variant — a long wheelbase S1 XJ12L. Jaguar only produced a mere 754 examples of this model.

Unavailable XF

With our XJ12L sitting on the sidelines, we tried to get our hands on an XF press car. No chance, said Jaguar NZ. We were seemingly out of luck, but the newly formed Beacham & Phillips — a happy marriage of Lotus Cars NZ Ltd and Beacham Jaguar Ltd — came to the rescue by offering us a brand, spanking new XF 2.7D. Interestingly, the XJ12L featured here is the personal car of Roger Phillips — the ‘Phillips’ of Beacham & Phillips. In fact, Roger has owned this particular Jaguar for many years — it even pre-dates his involvement with Lotus Cars NZ — and, more recently, the car has been attended to by Dr Beacham, who has worked his magic on the XJ. Although, apart from a more sporting exhaust arrangement, the XJ12L remains in pretty much its original form. The Jaguar XF has also received more than its fair share of awards — Car of the Year, Best Diesel and even Best Interior Design. There is little doubt that Jaguar’s head stylist, Ian McCallum — notable for his work with Aston Martin — has come up with yet another winner; the XF looks good from all angles. As you’d expect from a thoroughly modern car, the XF also comes with a veritable deluge of electronic gadgets — ranging from driving and safety aids right out to a optional, upmarket sounds system from British loudspeaker boffins, Bowers & Wilkins. It’s all very fancy but, at the bottom line, it’s the driving and owning experience that makes the difference. Unlike James Bond, gadgets aren’t the be all and end all as far as the average driver is concerned.

The Same but Different

After a few false starts, finally we got the two big cats together — and when we placed these two Jaguars together the first thing we noticed was that the XF looked huge compared to the XJ12. Physically, there’s not much difference in their dimensions — it’s the height of the XF’s passenger compartment that makes the car look so much larger. Either people are getting taller, or have returned to wearing top hats whilst driving! That said, there are a lot of styling similarities between the two cars — the most evident touch being the sculpted bonnet of both Jaguars. There’s even a touch of XJ in the XF’s chrome-rimmed radiator surround, which looks very much like a modern rendition of a traditional Jaguar front end — although, thankfully, with no trace of the dubious retro-styling of the current S-Type. However, the biggest differences between these two big cats are hidden — in the engine bay and in the cabin. Yes, the XF is powered by a V6 diesel engine, a striking counterpoint to the XJ’s petrol-hungry V12. And enter into the XF’s opulent interior and you’re entering a new, ergonomic age — an age undreamed of when the Jaguar XJ was originally launched in 1968.

The Modern Age

You know that you’re entering that modern age when you step into the XF — you don’t need anything as archaic as a metal ignition key; just make sure you’ve got the Jaguar’s electronic SmartKey with you and open up. Once inside, you’re enveloped within a cabin dripping with leather and aluminium — front up for a top-of-the-line model and you’ll even get a few fillets of shiny wood. It’s comfortable, cosseting and, despite its obvious modernity, the XF’s cockpit exudes an air of Jaguar-ness. The old traditions may be buried under layers of brushed alloy and piano-finish veneers, but it is still unmistakeably a Jaguar. It even smells like one. However, push the ‘on’ button and, right away, you know that the XF is about as traditional as Han Solo’s Millennium Falcon — with the ignition activated, the previously flush-mounted ventilation grilles in the dashboard slide open and a round, alloy gear-selector rises up mysteriously from the central console.
Start the beast up and you’re met with the merest hint of diesel clatter as the V6 sparks into life before settling down to a steady, laconic pussy-cat purr. It’s all very civilised.
Once the fancy memory seats have been tailored to suit, along with the adjustable steering column, it’s time to select ‘D’ and sally forth in Jaguar’s latest contender for the best saloon in the world.

On the Road #1

I shouldn’t have really been surprised, but the XF’s levels of refinement still managed to catch me unawares. Most modern diesels are wonderfully engineered and the V6 in the Jaguar is no exception — it pulls through the gears smoothly and, with a mountain of torque on tap, glides effortlessly over the black-top. That means you really need to keep a close eye on the speedometer — it’s very easy to venture deep into license-losing territory in the XF, high speeds only hinted at by a deeper rumble from the engine and a whisper of wind-noise. In fact, the 2.7D accelerates with more brio than the petrol V6, which shouldn’t be anything new for fans of oil-burners. It’s possible to just cruise around and let the Jaguar’s six-speed ’box pick all the right ratios — which it manages to do most of the time — but enthusiastic drivers will want to select ‘Sport’ mode and self-shift the drive-by-wire transmission via the paddles fitted to the rear of the steering wheel. The gearbox responds quickly to manual commands, even blipping the throttle to smooth downshifts.

As an added bonus, the XF is also surprisingly nimble for such a large car — and, like all good big cars, it seems to shrink around you the further you drive. Handling is safe and sure, helped by steering that benefits from variable power assistance, and powerful ventilated brakes — not to mention a whole host of ‘nanny’ features. In short, this is a four-door executive saloon that easily matches and beats the main rivals from BMW, Audi and Mercedes-Benz. And, unlike it’s Teutonic competitors, the Jaguar does everything with a certain sense of style — and that’s about the only traditionally Jaguar trait you could ascribe to the XF 2.7D.

The Classic Age

In comparison to the clean, modern cockpit of the XF the classic XJ12, despite loads of leather, chrome and timber, looks extremely plain and basic. And you need an ignition key as well! Clambering into the XJ12 also points up a few differences between it and the XF — you simply step into the high-built modern car, but have to step down into the substantially lower XJ12. However, once inside, the old cat is just as comfortable — although seats that provide lumbar support were still a few decades away when Sir William Lyons conceived the XJ.

No matter, twist the impossibly tiny key in the ignition and the mighty V12 bursts into life like a caged animal. In its day, this 12-cylinder monster was considered to be the epitome of motoring refinement — compare it to the XF’s V6 and, right away, you can tell how, well, pussy-like, modern drivers have become. Unlike the XF’s well mannered diesel, the sound of the V12 offers a serious performance promise. In this area, our test car probably isn’t typical — the owner has retro-fitted his Jaguar with a rorty, E-Type exhaust system, so this XJ12 has a much sportier (noisier) exhaust note than standard. It may be old, but Jaguar’s venerable V12 is still capable of holding its own against its more modern counterpart — top speeds are almost identical and, over the traditional sprint from rest to 100kph, he XJ12 will actually shade the XF by a whisker.

On the Road #2

Put these two Jaguars onto a twisty road and the XF will absolutely devour the XJ12. It’s not a question of power, or weight, but handling and the ability provided by the XF’s driver aids — which allow you to brake deeper with a large margin of safety — and the simple fact that the diesel V6 draws on so much torque that it simply claws it way out of corners.

Of course, the V12 is not lacking in torque, but its ancient three-speed auto just doesn’t have the ratios to match the six-speed XF — and have you ever tried manual shifting a classic XJ? Not recommended.

On the handling front, the XJ12’s supple ride quality is a blessing and a curse. It handles rural railway crossings with more aplomb than the newer car, but around the corners it wallows like a love-sick whale. None of this is helped by the car’s over-assisted steering, which feels as if it’s been injected with an overly powerful anaesthetic. Our test car benefited from a smaller diameter, wood-spoked steering wheel, which somewhat masked the Jaguar’s sloppy steering — although not enough to provide a positive advantage under hard cornering. And although the four-wheel disc brakes on the Jaguar work well enough, they display none of the assurance of the XF’s powerful ventilated discs.

However, in one area the XJ12 shone — straight-line power. Indeed, this was emphasised in our test car, which had a seemingly hair-trigger throttle. Stamp on it too hard from a standing start and the rear wheels spun wildly as they scrabbled for grip. When they eventually bit, the reward was 20-metre-long lines of scorched rubber — very anti-social, but a lot of fun!

Classic or Modern?

Like all modern cars, the XF is quiet, easy to drive and, overall, extremely competent. The XJ12 does many things adequately but cannot even begin to match the subdued composure of the XF. Both cars have a distinct presence on the road, although the McCallum-designed XF does look a little tall and blandly modern in comparison to the low, sleek XJ — and those chrome wire wheels certainly show off the older car’s sculpted lines.

If you’re of a mind to do your part in saving the planet, then the decision is easy — pick the clean-burning, super efficient diesel-powered XF. However, if you don’t give a monkey’s about the environment — and don’t mind funding OPEC — choose the XJ12; it gurgles down petrol as if there were no tomorrow.

I suspect that the choice is probably not as clear cut as that. Today, very few XJ12s will be pressed into service as an everyday car but, on the other hand, the XF 2.7D is easily capable of such use. That singles out the XJ12 as an occasional use classic car, while the XF is a car that well-heeled business-folk will love — especially as it evinces a real sense of style; something lacking in modern German executive saloons. Since its release, the XF has not only garnered a huge number of awards, it has also had the pleasure of topping many executive car reliability surveys.

That’s not a traditionally strong Jaguar trait, but then the XF is not a traditional Jaguar in the strictest sense of the term. Having said that, I believe that Sir William would have approved.

1973 Jaguar XJ12L

Engine All alloy, V12
Capacity 5344cc
Max power 1889kW (253bhp) at 6000rpm
Max torque 408Nm (301lb/ft) at 3500rpm
Fuel system Four Stromberg carburettors
Transmission Three-speed automatic
Suspension F/R Independent, wishbones, coil springs and telescopic shock absorbers
Steering Rack and pinion, PAS
Brakes Disc/disc

Dimensions:

Overall length 4947mm
Width 1772mm
Height 1372mm
Wheelbase 2865mm
Kerb weight 1870kg

Performance:

Max speed 225kph
0-100kph 7.5 seconds

2008 Jaguar XF 2.7D

Engine V6, turbocharged diesel
Capacity 2720cc
Max power 152kW at 4000rpm
Max torque 435Nm at 1900rpm
Fuel system Fuel-injection
Transmission Six-speed automatic
Suspension F/R Unequal length wishbones/multi-link
Steering Rack and pinion, PAS
Brakes Ventilated discs, ABS, EBD, EBA, DSC

Dimensions:

Overall length 4961mm
Width 2053mm
Height 1460mm
Wheelbase 2909mm
Kerb weight 1771kg

Performance:

Max speed 229kph
0-100kph 8.2 seconds

Words: Allan Walton Photos: Dan Wakelin

This replica of Tom Walkinshaw’s famous TWR Jaguar XJ-S will be one of the official cars on this year’s Drive NZ Classic tour

When the XJ-S was launched in September 1975, Jaguar was on a hiding to nothing. For a start, the world was reeling from a major oil crisis; not the best time to introduce a new, gas-guzzling V12-powered car. Secondly, at the start of the XJ-S’ development cycle it looked very much like impending federal requirements would mean the end of the convertible car in the US — and the US market, ever since the days of the XK120, took a large slice of Jaguar’s production pie. In short, the XJ-S would be engineered as a fixed-head coupe.

Thirdly, the XJ-S was intended to replace the legendary E-Type — and how could Jaguar replace what was arguably the best-looking sports car ever built — by any manufacturer — with a tin-top coupe that featured a droopy rear-end and a Spartan (by Jaguar standards) cabin.

Finally, of course, the XJ-S entered production during the dark days when BLMC was calling the shots.

With all the above in mind, it can be seen that the XJ-S didn’t exactly debut on the crest of a wave.

However, when the first examples of the XJ-S began to hit the road, opinions began to change. Sure, most still criticised those controversial rear sail panels; the massive battering ram bumpers (another requirement foisted on car makers by US legislation); the weird instruments — which were set in a dull and rather plain metal dashboard — and, of course, the V12’s prodigious appetite for valuable Middle Eastern elixir.

XJ-S History

Based on a shortened Jaguar XJ saloon floor-pan, the XJ-S is really a product of the late’ 60s, for it was at that time that Jaguar began seriously working on an E-Type replacement. From the start, the XJ-S was developed as a coupe, and an open top version would not appear until 1985.

Jaguar’s V12 was always part of the XJ-S equation. This engine had been seen in prototype form in the infamous XJ13 and subsequently saw service in the XJ12 and the last of the E-Types. For fitment to the XJ-S, Jaguar discarded carburettors and utilised fuel injection.

The XJ-S was the last Jaguar design to be influenced by Sir William Lyons and aerodynamicist Malcolm Sayer, who penned the car’s infamous flying buttresses. Sayer died in 1970 well before the XJ-S’ debut. To many, the XJ-S represented the only serious styling errors made by Lyons and Sayer.

However, both men had the last laugh, as the XJ-S would remain in production for 20 years and seven months, the final XJS (the hyphen between XJ and S having been dropped in 1991) rolled of the line on April 4, 1996, making way for the new XK8.

During its long life-cycle the XJ-S went through many variations — including a cabriolet and, a few years later, a full convertible. More traditional wood trim came in 1981. In the same year, now under the reviving influence of its new boss, John Egan, Jaguar also introduced the XJ-S HE, with the V12 engine taking advantage of Michael May-developed Fireball combustion chambers in its cylinder heads. This relatively low-cost conversion — it cost around £500,000 for Jaguar to retool for the V12 HE — allowed Jaguar to fit a more relaxed, higher diff ratio to the car without sacrificing overall performance.

Other big changes came when Tom Walkinshaw’s TWR company joined forces with Jaguar to form JaguarSport. Under Walkinshaw’s guidance the XJ-S was developed into a well appointed and very quick GT, while the venerable 5.3-litre V12 was stretched out to 6.0 litres for the XKR-S — this larger capacity engine becoming a standard fitment in 1993. Lister, famous for the Lister-Jaguar racers, went one further than the factory, enlarging the V12 to a mighty 7.0 litres.

And, of course, Jaguar also produced a series of lighter, more nimble six-cylinder models, at first using its 3.6-litre six, followed by a 4.0-litre unit.

All these many changes transformed the XJ-S. It may have started life as something of an anachronism, but it ended it days as a very desirable — and still largely underrated — grand touring car. Indeed, while many admired its eventual replacement, the XK8, there were just as many who mourned the passing of the XJ-S, which cut one of Jaguar’s final, physical links with Sir William Lyons.

The DNZ XJ-S

Purchased from a second-hand car dealer, the present owner of this car, Roger Phillips — the brains behind Drive NZ Classic — doesn’t really know a huge amount about this car’s previous history other than the fact that it was originally imported into New Zealand in 1988. The Jaguar’s body received major attention some time in the late ‘90s in Wellington and, at that time, the then owner spent considerable cash fettling the car’s V12 — and repainting it the same colour scheme as the TWR Jaguar XJ-S raced at Bathurst in 1985 by Tom Walkinshaw and Win Percy.

Outwardly, this XJ-S is virtually a carbon copy of Walkinshaw’s James Hardie 1000 pole-setting Jaguar — the only real major difference being that this car is saddled with the standard three-speed GM400 Turbo auto gearbox rather than the five-speed manual used by the TWR cars.

As purchased, the XJ-S was showing signs of wear and tear but, a significant advantage, the big, all-alloy V12 appeared to be in rude health — something that was very evident as the car came fitted with an open exhaust which exited under the driver’s side door. To say that the exhaust was loud would be an understatement; it was deafening!

This decibel meter-bashing exhaust was the first item to be replaced, with a rather more conventional rear-exiting exhaust being fitted — although it still delivers an appropriate roar when the loud pedal is mashed into the firewall.

In order to rein in the power of the V12, Roger fitted new vented and cross-drilled front brake rotors with performance pads and, to enhance the Jaguar’s handling, Nolathane bushes were fitted to the front suspension and a new set of shock-absorbers was also prescribed. Finally, a set of Dunlop R tyres was wrapped around the Jaguar’s massive alloy wheels.

Moving inside the car, Roger tossed out the old and tired upholstery, and the interior was treated to lashings of brand new grey leather.

For its role as part of the official Drive NZ Classic vehicle fleet, the XJ-S was also fitted with a roof-mounted light bar, strobe headlights and a siren.

A thorough going over revealed leaky differential and gearbox seals — since replaced — and, as you’d expect from a Jaguar of this period, Roger is still chasing down the odd electrical gremlin. During our road-test of the XJ-S the driver’s window decided it’d had enough of winding up and down. This was later traced to a burned-out window lift motor; fairly typical stuff for a Jaguar of this vintage.

By the time you read this article, Roger will have given the XJ-S a bloody good shake-down at the season-opening Icebreaker race meeting at Pukekohe. A series of hot racing laps should reveal any other problems, with plenty of time for rectification before the running of Drive NZ Classic.

On the Road

This is not the first XJ-S I’ve driven, having sampled several variations — most notably a cabriolet, a thumpingly quick JaguarSport XJR-S, and an even quicker Lister-modified car. So, stepping into this XJ-S was a little like getting reacquainted with an old friend.

Despite this car’s new leather upholstery, early XJ-S such as this have a rather plain interior. Minor instruments — water, oil, fuel and volts — are a series of aircraft-style revolving barrels. They don’t look very nice but, when everything is operating at normal temperatures (and the fuel tank is half-full), the needles on the dials form a single straight line, so everything can be checked with one glance. The remainder of the instruments are highlighted with a cheap, silver-painted border, giving the XJ-S interior a severe look.

Ahead, the Jaguar’s bonnet stretches out to the horizon and is made to look impossibly long due to low seating position, and a front ’screen that appears to be more of a viewing slit than a windscreen.

However, once you crank the mighty V12 into life, mere aesthetics disappear out through the rear tailpipes.

Many years ago I was lucky enough to drive an early, four-speed manual XJ-S, and the muscles in my left leg still twinge at the memory of that car’s stiff clutch, not to mention its notchy, old-fashioned cog ’box — probably why Jaguar dropped the manual gearbox option on the XJ-S in 1978.

The GM 400 Turbo isn’t a bad transmission but, in comparison to more modern units, it feels clunky and old fashioned. As well, due to its torque convertor idiosyncrasies, it isn’t that easy to exploit the power of the Jaguar’s big V12. However, there is little doubt that there is sufficient performance on offer and, once over 4000rpm, the engine delivers a lovely growl as it hurls the car over the blacktop with an effortless surge of power and torque.

The big cat’s handling and road-holding is still rather good considering its age, and tends towards mild understeer. Under harder cornering the XJ-S switches to easily controllable oversteer and, although it’s not hard to provoke a slide by punching the gas, the Jaguar can get a little messy at the limit as the rear end lurches around a tad. Anyway, on-the-limit driving isn’t really encouraged by the car’s overly light, power-assisted steering — it carries more weight than a contemporary XJ6 or XJ12, but it’s still too light for my taste.

As well, the huge Dunlop Rs fitted to Roger’s XJ-S take a long time to warm up during normal road driving. Before they hit their best operating temperatures they tend to follow even the tiniest road irregularity and, more unnervingly, squirm under braking. Indeed, it was only towards the end of our brief road-test that the Dunlops began to heat up — at which stage they started to indicate their massive grip potential.

All in all, an exciting drive and, as long as you’re prepared to hold the gears manually, a seriously quick car. Roger has considered dropping a five-speed ’box into this car — such an addition would turn it into a real flyer.

If you get a chance to catch up with any of the speed events that make up the Drive NZ Classic tour, watch out for this big, snarling cat.

The XJ-S in Competition

Under the tutelage of British Leyland, Jaguar took to the track with the V12-powered XJ12C in 1976 when it entered the European Touring Championship with a team of these big coupes. They proved to be extremely quick, often setting fastest lap and taking pole position but, alas, they proved to be as fragile as they were quick. Despite intervention from Broadspeed and a dry-sumped version of the V12, this early effort was not successful.

Instead, it would be US racer, Bob Tullius, who showed the true potential of the Jaguar V12. Tullius, who had previously dominated SCCA racing in his V12 E-Type, developed and built an XJ-S to take part in the US TransAm Series. On its racing debut at Lime Rock in September 1976, the Group 44 XJ-S absolutely blitzed the V8 competition. Tullius went on to win the 1977 TransAm Manufacturer’s Championship Cup in the XJ-S.

It would be another five years before a properly developed, racing XJ-S would appear in the UK — when Tom Walkinshaw decided to enter a team of cars in the Group A category for Touring Cars. With prior reliability issues sorted, Walkinshaw won the 1984 championship in one of his own TWR Jaguars — marking the beginning of a close relationship between TWR and Jaguar. This relationship would eventually result in Jaguar’s return to Le Mans — where it had scored so many victories during the ’50s — for its ‘come-back’ victory at La Sarthe in 1988.

Closer to home, TWR famously entered a team of three XJ-S Jaguars for the 1985 running of the James Hardie 1000 at Bathurst. The big cats set a blistering pace in practice, with Walkinshaw taking out pole position — a video of his pole-setting lap (freely available on the internet) shows just how committed Walkinshaw was as he punted the XJ-S over The Mountain. In the actual race, the teaming of John Goss and Armin Hahne took out first place with a time of 2:21:86 (average speed, 156.63kph), with Walkinshaw and Win Percy finishing in third — the two Jaguars split by the Roberto Ravaglia/Johnny Cecotto BMW 635CSi. The third XJ-S — driven by Gary Wilmington and Peter Janson — finished in 14th place.

Goss returned to Bathurst in his XJ-S for the 1986 Great Race, but could no better than 24th.

Watching the 1985 James Hardie 1000, I got the impression that the Aussie crowd was none too pleased about its beloved Fords and Holdens being so convincingly thrashed by the Poms. A sentiment that really came to a head when Mark Skaife and Jim Richards won back-to-back victories in their Nissan Skyline GT-R at Mt Panorama in 1991 and 1992.

Infamously, the winning pair was resoundingly booed by the partisan crowd, a reaction which would directly lead to the establishment of the present day Holden and Ford-only Aussie V8 Supercar series.

Walkinshaw may have started a parochial revolt at Bathurst with the TWR Jaguars but, in later years, he would also become involved with the Holden Dealer Team. And, of course, he also essayed one of the most collectible Aussie cars of the’ 80s — the tea-tray-winged VL SS Group A Walkinshaw Commodore.

1980 Jaguar XJ-S – Specifications

Engine V12
Capacity 5343cc
Bore/stroke 90 x 70mm
Valves Two valves per cylinder/sohc per bank
C/R 9.0:1
Max power 214kW at 5750rpm
Max torque 399Nm at 3500rpm
Fuel system Lucas D-Jetronic fuel-injection
Transmission GM-400 three-speed auto
Suspension F: independent by double wishbones, coil springs, telescopic shock absorbers, torsion bars R: transverse and trailing arms, coil springs, telescopic shock absorbers, torsion bars
Steering Adwest Varamatic rack-and-pinion
Brakes Ventilated disc/solid, inboard disc

Dimensions:

Overall length 4864mm
Width 1793mm
Wheelbase 2593mm
Height 1262mm
Track F/R 1473/1486mm
Kerb weight 1750kg

Performance:

Max speed 228kph (auto) 246kph (manual)
0-100kph 6.7 seconds
Standing 1/4 mile 14.5 seconds
Economy 20.2l/100km (14mpg)

Words: Allan Walton Photos: Dan Wakelin

NZCC reader Stephen Moore talks about his Jaguar 420, and compares it to a friend’s Daimler Sovereign

The Jaguar 420 may well be the least familiar of the many models produced by Jaguar in the ’60s, but its pedigree is impeccable, tracing as it does through several better-known models that preceded it. The 420’s stable-mate was the Daimler Sovereign, a badge-engineered variant that was virtually identical to the Jaguar.

The 420 was sold as a compact sporting saloon filling a perceived gap between the Jaguar’s Mk2 and MkX and sharing features of both. But we should go back to the start of the story, which is quite complicated, so hang on tight.

The familiar Mk2 was introduced in 1959 and sold throughout most of the ’60s. It had a live rear axle and was powered by the XK six-cylinder engine first used in the XK120 of 1948. In the Mk2 that engine was available in 2.4, 3.4 and 3.8-litre capacities at one time or another.

In 1961 Jaguar launched two new models. The MkX saloon had been developed to use a sophisticated new independent rear suspension and a triple carburettor version of the 3.8-litre engine. Aimed at the American market, the MkX had somewhat overblown body proportions, although compared with the full-sized MkVII, VIII and IX saloons that preceded it the MkX was almost svelte. The other new car for 1961 was the sensational E-Type sports car, which shared the same 3.8-litre engine as the MkX and used a scaled-down version of the independent rear suspension. In 1965 both cars were updated with the new 4.2-litre version of the XK engine, again with triple carburettors.

Meanwhile, in 1963 Jaguar had introduced the S-Type as a development of the Mk2, in which a mid-scale version of the MkX independent rear suspension replaced the Mk2’s live rear axle. Other differences the S-Type had over the Mk2 were extended rear bodywork to provide for a larger boot, a changed roofline for more headroom, a slightly plusher interior and detail differences around the nose. The S-Type was available with either 3.4 or 3.8-litre XK engines, but only in twin carburettor form because the triple-carb set-up would not fit into what was essentially still the Mk2 engine bay.

Jaguar 420 and Sovereign

In August 1966, Jaguar added to this already extensive range a new saloon that combined the 4.2-litre powerplant of the MkX and E-Type with the compact body and independent rear suspension of the S-Type. This was the Jaguar 420, and its Daimler Sovereign equivalent was released at the same time. Both new cars featured a squared-off nose with four headlamps akin to that of the MkX, but again the engine carried just two carburettors.

As if the story was not complicated enough, at the same time as the 420 was released Jaguar up-chromed the MkX and renamed it the 420G (for Grand). Then, in 1968, the 420G floorpan was modified to form the basis of the huge Daimler DS420 limousine. So, with a name so similar to both the 420G and DS420 and with a tail the same as an S-Type, it’s no wonder people have always tended to mistake the Jaguar 420 for something else. The author’s elderly neighbour even thought it was a Bentley!

But the thing that really makes the 420 easy to overlook is the relatively low numbers made. The factory at Browns Lane, Coventry, stopped making the 420 at the end of 1968 just over two years after production began, and with only 10,236 produced. The Daimler Sovereign soldiered on into July 1969, by which time 5824 had been sold. By the end of the production run, buyers were hanging back to wait for the new Jaguar XJ6. The handsome and iconoclastic XJ6 was slightly larger than the 420 and swept it from the Jaguar range, along with the Mk2 and S-Type. For the record, the 420G only remained in production until 1970, although its mammoth cousin the DS420 endured until 1992.

Daimler or Jaguar

This is probably a good place to detail the ways that the Daimler Sovereign was differentiated from the Jaguar 420. Whereas the Daimler 2.5-litre V8 of 1962 differed from the Jaguar Mk2 by having a genuine Daimler engine, the Sovereign differed from the 420 only in its badging and aspects of interior trim. Of course, mentioning this fact to a Sovereign owner is unlikely to win you a friend. A table of the real differences between the cars is included below. According to the major reference work (see Reference #1 at end of feature) for the models, the Daimler differs from the Jaguar in having:

• A fluted Daimler-badged grille;

• A fluted number plate housing on its boot lid (although the author has only seen Sovereigns that lacked this difference so wonders if it is correct);

• Wheel trim centres carrying the flying ‘D’ rather than a Jaguar’s head and similarly the horn button, oil filler cap and seat belt clasps;

• Ribbed cam covers bearing the inscription ‘Daimler’ rather than ‘Jaguar’, although earlier cars shared the same polished alloy cam covers;

• Higher-grade seat leather with perforated centre sections (often left out of restorations);

• Better-quality covers for the sun visors;

• Possibly more carefully selected and matched walnut veneer trim.

All the 420 extras were supplied as standard, including overdrive on manual transmission cars and power assisted steering.

Contemporary tests

How were the 420/Sovereign regarded in their day? Contemporary road tests indicate they were very highly thought of. For example, a Motor (UK) road test in May 1967 reported: “It seems somehow insolent to apply medium [price] standards to a saloon that for a combination of speed, comfort and safety is as good as any in the world, regardless of cost.” Similarly, a road test by Wheels (Australia) in August 1967 enthused: “While they can continue to build and sell cars as good as this, there is hope for the man who cares about his motoring.” Despite the gender exclusive language representative of the era this was high praise indeed, and such admiration was not uncommon. About the only exception the testers could take was to the 17.65l/100km (16mpg) fuel consumption, which for 1967 was rather high and, today, verges on the ruinous.

In terms of performance measured under test conditions, 0 to 96.5kph (60mph) in under.

10 seconds and a top speed of over 201kph (125mph) were typical. The factory-quoted power rating of 183kW (245bhp) has always been thought of as rather hopeful. The consensus seems to be that the rear wheels were unlikely to need to transmit more than about 134kW (180bhp to the road), which is nevertheless a healthy figure for a car of that time and weighing ‘only’ 1676kg.

Comparing cats

Now let’s leave the history books to look more closely at our matching pair of live Coventry cats.

‘Sewage is our bread and butter’ is an unpromising conversation starter, so when you are an engineer who works in the water and waste industry you tend to need some other topic to talk about with new acquaintances.

What better alternative than classic cars? Perhaps that’s the reason why professional engineers Rainer Hoffmann and the author acquired our featured cars.

Rainer bought his 1967 Daimler Sovereign from an enthusiast in Timaru in 2002 as a partly completed restoration project. Only the suspension and body had been restored, and over the following three years Rainer co-ordinated specialist restoration of the doors and windows, chrome trim, electrics, engine, seats and interior trim and gave it a full respray in dark blue. The Daimler’s interior was retrimmed in tan leather, a colour not available from the factory in combination with the dark blue exterior, but one that suits the car well.

The Daimler has the four-speed manual with overdrive transmission. Rainer has had some minor problems with the power steering, clutch and overdrive unit, but there are several specialists in Christchurch able to help resolve such issues. Unfortunately, the previous owner forgot to refit the radius arms to the Daimler’s rear suspension. Neither VINZ, which re-registered the car, nor various garages that subsequently issued it with WoFs, noticed the omission until December 2007, when the rear suspension cross-bridge finally gave up the struggle and cracked in several places. All is now well, however, with a refurbished cross-bridge from an expired S-Type fitted along with reconditioned radius arms.

Stephen’s 420

Despite being Rainer’s colleague in the same engineering firm, I only discovered he owned the Daimler after I had bought my Jaguar. Seeing the Jaguar for sale on a classic car website in 2006, I scurried up to Dannevirke to check it out. The Jaguar was in very tidy and original condition, benefiting from a comprehensive mechanical overhaul back in 1994 and an overspray in bright gold metallic, which had given the original drab ‘golden sand’ paintwork a much needed lift. Being of modest means, I prefer cars in good original condition rather than fully restored. A succession of honest classics, including three Rovers, an Alfa Romeo, a Lancia, four Citroëns, two BMWs and a Mk2 Jaguar have passed though my hands, and I can still recall my 2.4-litre Mk2 as having the smoothest-running motor I’ve ever sat behind, to the extent that I sometimes tried to re-start it whilst it was running at idle.

Road testing the 420, I found that it idled sufficiently lumpily to prevent me from ever making the same mistake. Nevertheless, recognising a good Jaguar when I see one, I purchased the 420 on the spot and drove it back to Christchurch on a shakedown trip, during which nothing much shook down apart from the fuel gauge.

My car has the three-speed automatic transmission and Adwest Variamatic power steering only available on the Jaguars as extras. It has been continuously registered since it was sold new in New Zealand in 1969. According to the chassis number, this 420 was produced in December 1968 and is one of the last 350 made.

In my first year of ownership I replaced the tyres and some suspension bushes, and had the steering geometry sorted out after finding that it was set for maximum lock in one direction and somewhat less in the other. I also decided to put up with a loud scream that briefly emanates from the ‘torquatrol’ viscous fan unit when starting the engine from cold, since replacements are unavailable and the fan still keeps the engine cool.

Secure and relaxing

Most mechanical and many body parts for the cars are still available from specialist suppliers. Both Rainer and I are members of the Daimler and Lanchester Spare Parts Club, an excellent mail-order organisation based in New Zealand which, despite its name, has many Jaguar drivers as grateful members.

These 40-year-old cars are very secure and relaxing to drive. Rainer’s manual transmission Daimler gets away from rest somewhat more quickly than the languorous three-speed Borg Warner Model 8 automatic allows the Jaguar to. Nevertheless, with plenty of power available to the right foot, both cars can still startle inattentive rice-rocket drivers at traffic lights; not that their owners would ever drive them like that, of course.
Rainer likes to defend himself against accusations of driving a ‘gas-guzzler’ by reckoning that preserving one such car in use for 40 years consumes a lot less energy and produces less CO2 overall than manufacturing and running, say, four less thirsty vehicles over the same time. Uncertain energy economics apart, I always like to point out that such hobby cars now only run a few thousand kilometres each year anyway, and are worth preserving for aesthetic reasons alone.

The 420 and Sovereign have real appeal to the younger generation, who appreciate their presence and style. My nephew was only too pleased to accept an offer of the Jaguar as his wedding car, and more recently Rainer’s son, daughter and friends dressed up in formal clothing and took the ‘old lady’ (the Daimler) to a local beauty spot for a picnic. There the car aroused considerable interest among bystanders young and old.

Despite owning more modern cars for everyday use, neither I nor Rainer would quickly part with our classy Coventry saloons, which stand out from the masses and give us both a lot of pleasure.

Though now quite hard to find, the Jaguar 420 and, to a lesser extent, the even rarer Daimler Sovereign can still be had at prices close to that of the less complex Jaguar Mk2 or Daimler 2.5-litre V8. The character of the 420 and Sovereign is quite different from those cars, filling the role of refined grand tourers rather than sharp-handling sporting saloons. In the words of a professional restorer ¨who drove my 420 recently, “That’s a really nice car to drive, very like an XJ6 but with bags more style.” The 420 and Sovereign are certainly models that deserve to be remembered and cherished.

References:
1. Jaguar S-Type & 420 — The Complete Story by James Taylor, Crowood.
2. Jaguar S-Type & 420 — Limited Edition various ¨contemporary road tests, Brooklands Books.

Words: Stephen Moore, Photos: Sean Craig

At first glance, it may seem that a German author is an odd choice to write a history of renowned British marque, Jaguar, but Stertkamp comes with excellent credentials. As well as a noted Jaguar historian, he is also a committee member of JAG, Germany’s largest Jaguar car club.

This massive tome — over 500 pages — covers Jaguar from its modest beginnings as Swallow in 1922, moves into the car making years when the company adopted the SS name, and onwards from 1945, when the Jaguar name emerged.
Stertkamp ably covers Jaguar’s long history, providing a detailed account of all the cars — including racing models and prototypes — from the early Swallows right up to the modern XF, while an extensive appendix contains a wealth of technical detail. Although much of the information contained within Jaguar: The Complete Story will be well known to Jaguar enthusiasts, Stertkamp serves it all up very nicely — making this an easy book to recommend.

Jaguar: The Complete Story by Heiner Stertkamp
Review copy supplied by Techbooks
Review by Allan Walton

Mark checks out a lovingly detailed and engineered, locally made Jaguar C-type replica from Coventry Classics

When Jaguar founder, Sir William Lyons, conceived of the XK120 he was really only looking for a limited production test-bed for his new twin-cam XK and a bit of publicity on the side.

Little did he know this new combination would launch his company down the road to a whole new market, and on the track to competition success.

However, like many British companies, Jaguar’s immediate post-war focus was on getting factories out of war production and back into car production — quickly freshening up pre-war models while planning for the introduction of the 1948 MkV saloon.

While production lines stamped out the new MkV, the XK120 was to be produced in limited numbers using the coachbuilder’s mainstay of aluminium over a wood frame. Such was demand — particularly from greenback country — that Sir William Lyons couldn’t ignore it and around 200 aluminium-bodied XK120s were completed before Jaguar finally geared up for larger scale steel-bodied production in 1950.

Competition

The ‘120’ is a reference to the car’s claimed top speed in miles per hour, something that was greeted with a fair degree of disbelief amongst press and public alike — it was time to grab more headlines.

In May 1949 Lyons flew a group of journalists to the Jabbeke motorway in Belgium where test driver ‘Soapy’ Sutton turned in a 126mph (202kph) run with the car in normal trim. Jaguar then fitted a small competition windscreen and a cowling over the passenger compartment, and did a 133mph (214kph) run. In its rush to get the XK120 ready for the 1948 Motor Show Jaguar had grabbed what was at hand — shortening the MkV chassis and fitting it with the new, 119kW (160bhp) XK engine.

The hefty, truck-like chassis may not have been ideal for a sports car, but it provided a fair degree of rigidity, and the independent front suspension using wishbones and torsion bars added some sophistication and gave good handling for the time.

Jaguar supplied cars to several drivers who proceeded to rack up both race and rally wins.  Leslie Johnson claimed fifth in the Mille Miglia in his relatively stan dard XK120 and then threatened to win the 1950 Le Mans 24-hour race — retiring after 21 hours while closing in on the leader. Two other XKs came in 12th and 15th. Convinced of the possibilities Lyons ordered the building of a competition version, the XK120C — or C-type for short.

The XK120C

They knew the engine was up to the job, in fact Jaguar test driver Norman Dewis had gone back to Jabbeke and wrung more than 274kph (170mph) out of a heavily modified XK120.

But the standard chassis and body were too heavy for serious competition, and, although beautiful, wasn’t aerodynamic enough. Aerodynamicist Malcolm Sayer penned a more efficient shape to clothe a fully triangulated space-frame chassis using steel bulkheads around the cockpit to add stiffness.

A century ago many car manufacturers got their start after their founders tried the current offerings and felt they could do better. Coventry Classics brings a similar story to the replica manufacturing business.

Back in 2002 the company’s Dunedin-based business manager, Mark Paterson, was building a well-known brand of C-type in kit form when he came in contact with Gore-based panel-beater Brian Dwyer. Dwyer had recently gone out on his own after 12 years doing alloy work for restorations experts, The Croydon Aircraft Company, at nearby Mandeville airfield. To cut a long story short, they looked at Mark’s imported replica and decided they could do better.

Torsion bar front suspension similar to the road car’s was used, but instead of semi-elliptic leaf springs on the rear, Jaguar opted for a single transverse torsion bar with the live rear axle held by radius arms and an A-bracket. Braking was left to a new Lockheed two-leading shoe set-up, while rack and pinion steering replaced the road car’s recirculating ball system. Jaguar took a relatively conservative approach engine-wise, increasing the size of the exhaust valves and ports, giving the cam slightly more lift, and beefing up the valve springs. The result was 149kW (200bhp); enough to hit 96.5kph in 8.1 seconds with a top speed of 231.2kph — supercar stuff 56 years ago.

Finished just in time for the 1951 Le Mans, the three factory C-types’ main competition came from Lago Talbot, 2.5-litre and 4.0-litre Ferraris, three 5.4-litre Chrysler-engined Cunninghams, five Aston Martins and a 3.8-litre Nash-engined Healey.

Moss set a pace that soon saw two of the chasing Talbots out of the running. Unfortunately, Moss and a second C-type were struck down with a simple oil pipe flange problem but Peter Walker and Peter Whitehead’s C-type won with a 96.5km lead over the second-placed Talbot. It was the beginning of a great decade for Jaguar and British motor sport, which had not tasted Le Mans victory since the days of the Bentleys.

In 1952, concerned by the straight-line speed of the latest Mercedes, Jaguar hastily developed a more streamlined body, but overheating issues took out all three cars.

Lesson learned, Jaguar returned to the original shape in 1953, but a number of important improvements lurked beneath the lightened body and chassis: Triple twin-choke Webers, a bulked-up clutch and strengthened suspension — but the trump card was the new Dunlop disc brakes.

Jaguar had played an important role in their development, with much of the testing work done in a C-type. A prestigious field representing 18 manufacturers couldn’t match the C-type’s pace. They set the first 160kph-plus race average and became the first to break 4000km for the 24-hour classic, taking first, second and fourth — a fitting climax to the C-type’s Le Mans career. It was to be replaced by the legendary D-type in 1954, but many of the 11 works and 43 production C-types would continue to compete successfully around the world for many years to come.

Coventry Classic C-types

Considering Mark’s involvement in his family’s business South Air — an aircraft engineering company at the Taieri Airfield near Dunedin — this was a marriage made in heaven.

They became partners in Coventry Classics, planning to offer two options — an authentic as possible reproduction C-type and a replica using XJ6 engine and suspension. The latter was ditched when they realised their first reproduction car drove a lot better than the XJ6-based car.

As authentic as you like

Brian used original C-type drawings to create the same tubular space-frame chassis, with slight changes at the rear to provide stronger seatbelt anchor points.

They use original specification torsion bar front and rear suspension, using Jaguar MkVII upper wishbones and their own machined A-arms below. The torsion bars travel well back into the chassis, which Mark believes is key to the way the cars drive.

“The torsion bars carry the stress back into the centre of the chassis. Using XJ6 coil-overs on the front would put stress on the front section of the chassis that it was never meant to take.”

The rear suspension employs a transversely mounted torsion bar, with the solid rear axle held in place by radius arms and a Panhard rod. Any departures from original are generally minimal and sensible — such as XK150 discs, three-pot XJ6 callipers and a baffled sump, instead of the original two-piece unit.

“Even authentic C-types have had braking upgrades,” Mark points out, “and the old sumps were susceptible to oil surge during racing.”

Most customers ask for a later model all-synchro Jaguar gearbox and overdrive rather than the old Moss ’box.

Inside the cockpit, MkVII Jaguar instruments are refaced to look more like original C-type dials, and they also use the correct switches, braided loom and Lucas electrics. Under the curvaceous bonnet lurks the familiar twin-cam Jaguar XK engine — usually in 3.8-litre form, although buyers can specify the 3.4 if they wish.

Beautiful

Its original demonstrator car was fitted with triple Webers, delivering around 200kW, but Coventry Classics also offers other options such as twin two-inch sand cast SUs or the 1¾-inch SUs used in the first C-types.

Over the top of all this, Brian has formed the beautiful C-type body and he says that they basically build everything in batches of three — be it louvres, dashboards, bonnets or chassis. Right from the start they have worked through the Low Volume Vehicle Certification regime.

“At the end of the day it is a reproduction — but it’s generally a genuine-spec car and certainly no kit car,” Brian says. Mark explains. “It’s a question of how authentic do you want it? We could make it totally authentic in terms of specs, but it would double the price.”

Praise from on high

Mark went to the UK with their first export C-type (a 3.4-litre with 1¾-inch SUs) and attended a prestigious Jaguar Drivers’ Club National Day —winning the Norwich Union Trophy for the most outstanding achievement and the car the judges would most like to take home. The former demonstrator car, which was sold to Australia, was similarly well-received. Mark displayed the car at a historic racing meeting at Sydney’s Eastern Creek. While in the pits he heard a gruff voice behind him say: “What do we have here?” When Mark told him it was a C-type the voice said: “I know it’s a bloody C-type — I used to race one.”

After looking over the car the voice informed him the original MkVII torsion bars are “too narrow and tuck in on the corners.”

His parting words were: “Bloody good replica son — well done!”

Mark turned to someone nearby and asked; “who was that?!”

“Frank Gardner,” came the reply.

Needless to say, Coventry Classics has uprated the torsion bars, although Mark hastens to point out it would only have been an issue under hard cornering.

On the road

I didn’t have the opportunity to drive Peter White’s car during the photo shoot, but did have a drive of the demonstrator before it was sold. In a mixture of town and motorway driving the C-type proved docile when it needed to be, but ready to rip away when required.

I don’t think I even topped 3500rpm — I didn’t need to! Large reserves of torque were more than enough to propel this 950kg car without having to dip into the 200-odd kilowatts available.

The rack and pinion steering was as direct and accurate as you could want, while the suspension provided a surprisingly supple ride without any sign of body roll.

I am not surprised C-types were such winners — the supercars of their era. This may not be the real thing, but it would be hard to get any closer.

Peter White’s C-type

When you are used to seeing C-types in either British Racing Green or the dark blue of Ecurie Ecosse, Peter White’s C-type stands out.

Finished in French Racing Blue — the colour used by Bugatti amongst others — it has been built around the original specs of C-type number 16, sold in 1952 to a French buyer.

A keen classic car man, Peter asked Coventry Classics to make it appear as authentic as possible, with twin two-inch sand-cast SUs, and an original-style steering wheel and switches.

There are other little touches too, such as the centre-mounted driving light behind the radiator grille and the spare set of spark plugs sitting in drilled holes to the right of the driver.

According to Mark, the 3.4-litre engine with two-inch SUs was the most common configuration on the original cars. Only the early C-types used the 1¾-inch carbs, and triple Webers were only used on the last of the Le Mans cars.

The main departures from the original number 16, are the 3.8-litre engine and XJ6 disc brakes — the original would have had drums.

Craig Miller’s 1951 XK120 Roadster

Craig Miller’s eye-catching British Racing Green 1951 XK120 provided the C-type photo shoot with an important visual reminder of the competition car’s roots. A few kilometres in the car between his house and the venue also provided a vivid reminder that the road-going XK120 could also be a potent performer.

Admittedly, Craig’s car is far from the standard factory model, having been restored and upspec’d to international XK racing specifications. It now runs a 3.8-litre engine with Cosworth rods, Hepalite pistons, a straight port head, triple Webers, extractors, Mallory ignition and an improved cooling system.

To make the driving a little easier it has had a five-speed ’box along with the XK140 rack and pinion steering. The package also includes disc brakes, adjustable shocks and competition torsion bars.

“I didn’t want a Concours car,” Craig explains. “I wanted something that was useable.”

Something useable it definitely is with performance, handling and braking that makes it a comfortable companion to modern traffic.

Sir William Lyons was nobody’s idiot, and certainly was not given to wild excesses (unless he thought it would sell his cars), in fact quite the opposite. It was his parsimonious nature which allowed Jaguar the reputation of providing fabulously fast and luxurious motoring for tiny sums of money compared to its opposition. His control of purchasing costs was legendary, although he was smart enough to allow his development teams adequate funds to design and develop his cars to a highly satisfactory level.

Quite what he was thinking during the early ’60s — when he allowed his company to manufacture fi ve separate body styles (and that does not include Daimlers, convertibles or two-plus-twos) for the luxury market — would be anybody’s guess, wouldn’t it? Sure enough, they were all collected up and thrown in the bin as soon as the XJ6 was up and running, but that period during the ’60s does seem a moment of uncharacteristic madness from this distance — or does it? It’s worth examining.

Model act

In 1966 you could buy a 240 or 340 (Mk2 body) and Daimler V8 (also Mk2 body), Jaguar 3.4S and 3.8S (S-Type body), Jaguar 420 and Daimler Sovereign (420 body) and 420G (MkX body). These in addition to Jaguar’s sports car range of E-types, which was running three types of body — dhc, fhc and 2+2. All of these could be had with manual or automatic transmission. In fact, by careful selection of dates you could add a couple of completely different Daimler bodies to that, as the Majestic Major and SP250 Sports were still languishing in showrooms.

It must have driven Jaguar’s suppliers and dealers nuts, because it was not a big organisation at that time. Despite this there were still complaints that you couldn’t buy the smallest body — the Jaguar Mk2 — with the 3.8 or 4.2-litre motor, and surprise that the magnificent Majestic Major’s V8 wasn’t fitted to the MkX body.

Either of these would have been against Sir William’s natural sense of order, and general dislike of anything Daimler being better than his beloved Jaguars. If Sir William could be blamed for any lack of vision, it would be in not developing the Daimler marque as being something special over a Jaguar.

Type Cast

The 340 — or Mk2 3.4 in today’s parlance — was still the quickest sedan in the Jaguar range, despite being one of the cheapest to buy and the oldest design available at that time. Its chassis was the least complex and therefore had the lightest weight, allowing for a level of speed and economy the bigger Jaguars could not match. Despite its age, the 340 also had a simplicity of line that the other saloons could not approach, but that is where its advantages finished.

In the fullness of time it was those benefits of the Mk2 that stood out. The fact that the S-Type, 420, and 420G were all magnificent cars — and superior in nearly every respect to the Mk2 at the time — seemed to have been lost on most people. Because of the huge impact the XJ6 made when it was introduced, using much the same running gear as the S-Type and 420, the two older cars have been forgotten and allowed to disappear from our roads.

Was Sir William’s complicated range a folly? In some respects yes, but viewed from his perspective, no. Sir William Lyons was doing modular before the word was invented. He had the same basic engine throughout his range — had done for years, and would continue to do so for years. The rear axle was a modular unit that was also the same throughout his range apart from the Mk2, which was a legacy from the ’50s and had paid for itself anyway. Knowing that he had to pay for the tooling of the upcoming XJ6 body, and had overspent on the MkX, it made sense to be very prudent with spending on the other cars, whilst appearing to have all the bases covered.

If there was a folly, and Lyons possibly would have been prepared to admit it, it was the MkX. It didn’t sell as well as anticipated — most people simply didn’t want a Jaguar that big.
Despite the complexity of the range, all Jaguar’s other sedans used the same shell and glass house as the Mk2 — and got away with it. It was said that the S-Type was originally intended to be the replacement for the Mk2, but since that car was still selling particularly well (and the MkX was considered too big), it was made as an addition to the existing range rather than a replacement.

Body Corporate

Although the S-Type was developed from the Mk2, it was also said that it shared only one common body panel (the bonnet). A likely story!

It did require new rear structure to mount the independent rear suspension (IRS), and the longer rear shape improved boot capacity from 340 to 538 litres (12 to 19 cubic feet). A new, longer and flatter roofline was also introduced for the S-Type, with a more upright rear window, allowing the back seat back to be moved rearwards to allow for greater rear seat room. Overall height was reduced by 50mm compared to the Mk2 — weight, however, increased by 127kg. Effectively, the S-Type was still a Mk2 with a MkX rear suspension and the MkX’s pannier fuel system to increase boot space.

The front of the car was slightly revised from the Mk2, but not by much. The S-Type is approximately 160mm longer than a Mk2, although the wheelbase remained the same. However, it was still 380mm shorter than a MkX overall. It’s worth mentioning that there never was an S-Type originally, it was just one of those names that fell into common use. The cars were originally called, using Jaguar’s typical lack of imagination in this respect, 3.4S or 3.8S.

The 420 was just an ‘S-Type’ with heavily revised frontal treatment and a 4.2-litre engine, but a Mk2 underneath — same wheelbase, same cabin space. The frontal styling of this Mk2 derivative had MkX frontal styling to match the MkX rear styling from the S-Type.

The most expensive sedan, the MkX (later called 420G), had a different shell — it was bigger and heavier all round, but was a seriously fast car for its day.

There’s no denying the MkX was a fabulous car, if a little unnecessary, but the best compromise of all Jaguars at the time was without doubt the S-Type. With a 4.2- litre engine the S-Type would have been a very quick car, but not as refi ned as the MkX.

Simply the Best

The 3.4 and 3.8-litre XK engines, as fitted to the S-Type, were real jewels, and not significantly less powerful than the 4.2. The S-Type, then, sat in the middle of the range, without the excess of the MkX, or the nimbleness and race-bred heritage of the Mk2, but with many of the virtues of both.

Its overall appearance, however, never quite gelled with the public when it was announced in 1963, and the S-Type remained unloved after its retirement in 1968. It was felt at the time that its rear styling didn’t match the front styling and clearly didn’t belong to the middle. This view was reinforced when people pointed out that the rear door shut-line was still shaped to meet a now non-existent Mk2 rear wheel arch.

However, with passing time, many of these criticisms have melted away — I think it looks just great. To give you an idea of just how good the S-Type was, I’ll use a few quotes from the notoriously cynical Autocar and Motor road testers in the UK.

“An almost ideal sporting saloon.” “Outstanding value for money, combining effortless high speed cruising for four with really reassuring road manners.” “The ride is probably unexcelled by any other European car.” “With brakes as good as these, there is little to be said about them.” “Capable of leaving behind all but a few cars of more sporting pretensions.” “It can be driven quite safely in a most inappropriate way.” “The new suspension alone is worth the £200 extra over the 340.”

Priced as it was alongside the Rover P5, Humber Imperial, Van Den Plas Princess and countless Alfa Romeos and BMW four-cylinders cars — and way cheaper than even a 250S Mercedes — it would be hard to imagine choosing anything else over the S-Type.

We Wuz Robbed

Whilst this might be lost on Jaguar collectors, another cynical bunch took to the S-Type like ducks to water. Britain’s bank robbers chose little else other than the S-Type well into the ’70s and ’80s. It was tough, with a good size boot, unshakeable handling and prodigious grip and grunt; the S-Type could outrun everything the British police could throw at it — except another S-Type.

The car’s poor resale value, once the XJ6 appeared, was a bonus and in most cases this didn’t matter, as they were generally stolen anyway! The S-Type was one of the first cars to have a steering column lock fitted when it was given a mild facelift.

You can see an S-Type virtually every Saturday night if you are lucky enough to have Sky TV’s UK Gold. The Sweeney (still a fabulous, quality drama despite its age) is a gold mine for old car enthusiasts. But if you are squeamish and like your Jaguars, cover your eyes at the end because the S-Type generally ends up going over a cliff.

The S-type today

Driving Martyn Smith’s 1967 S-Type was as easy as pie, once the idiosyncratic choke had sorted itself out. Fitted with the later Jaguar gearbox, the car loped along happily in any gear, and was virtually silent at cruising speed — with the gorgeous XK growl when you nudged the throttle, and an overdrive that endows the car with a high-speed, magic carpet feeling. Totally effortless and fuss free, (it’s like driving a remastered XJ40) and was based on the Ford/Jaguar DEW platform, which it shares with the Lincoln LS. With this car, Jaguar stylists had gone from being simply conservative or out-of-date to all-out retro, blending modern styling with features from the ’60s S-Type. The success of the new S-Type depends on your viewpoint, literally and metaphorically. From some angles it looked very smart, others dumpy, and others just plain. Buyers could choose an SE model, which added leather seats and cruise control, or a Sport model with 17-inch alloy wheels, sports seats and lowered suspension — if you were prepared to sacrifice a little comfort for driving dynamics. There was a choice of Ford V6 or Jaguar V8 which, comparing head-to-head with Jaguar’s competition, meant the S-Type struggled for sales, as competitors offered cheaper 2.0-litre entry-level models. Jaguar, however, won sales with a combination of competitive pricing and excellent levels of standard equipment — which included alloy wheels, electrically adjustable front very fast antique shop. The amount of polished wood inside is just glorious, you feel terribly spoilt. To think that bank robbers had this much luxury!

The car is also a perfect everyday car; fitted as standard with a heated rear window and wind-down side windows that won’t let you down. Interestingly, the longest surviving S-Type in the world is actually in Taranaki, (1B50004 BW) — only the fourth car S-Type ever produced and the first non-prototype. The car is now restored, and you can view it on the owner’s website: www.webfocus. co.nz/jaguar/.

Retroactive

Launched in March 1999 — breaking Jaguar’s dependency since 1968 upon a single saloon car shell — the new S-Type was Jaguar’s first direct competitor to the BMW 5 Series and Mercedes-Benz E-class. It was also the first completely new, Ford-backed Jaguar sedan (as the X300 was simply a remastered XJ40) and was based on the Ford/Jaguar DEW platform, which it shares with the Lincoln LS. With this car, Jaguar stylists had gone from being simply conservative or out-of-date to all-out retro, blending modern styling with features from the ’60s S-Type.

The success of the new S-Type depends on your viewpoint, literally and metaphorically. From some angles it looked very smart, others dumpy, and others just plain. Buyers could choose an SE model, which added leather seats and cruise control, or a Sport model with 17-inch alloy wheels, sports seats and lowered suspension — if you were prepared to sacrifice a little comfort for driving dynamics. There was a choice of Ford V6 or Jaguar V8 which, comparing head-to-head with Jaguar’s competition, meant the S-Type struggled for sales, as competitors offered cheaper 2.0-litre entry-level models.

Jaguar, however, won sales with a combination of competitive pricing and excellent levels of standard equipment — which included alloy wheels, electrically adjustable front seats, automatic climate control and a multi-function trip computer.

Road manners were excellent, both supple and responsive and with the usual superb Jaguar ride. With the optional CATS suspension, a computer-controlled adaptive damping system, its handling is amongst the very best, and the later supercharged version made it a sensational road-burner.

The original interior was disappointing, but a 2004 facelift addressed this and tidied up the exterior to such an extent that, whilst it may not please every eye, the proportions melded much better. You can judge for yourself from this 3.0- litre V6 that we borrowed from Jaguar New Zealand.

Born again

A new dashboard sorted the ill-conceived ergonomics, while changes to the seats increased rear legroom. Revised engines include a new 2.5-litre V6 that produces 150kW (201bhp), an increase for the V8 from 4.0 litres to 4.2 litres with a useful extra 14kW taking it to 224kW. The introduction of a six-speed automatic gearbox, combined with revised suspension settings, make these later cars an excellent buy and a very satisfying driving experience.

Never made at the famous Browns Lane factory, the entire car was assembled at Jaguar’s Castle Bromwich body plant in Birmingham — formerly the factory used to assemble Supermarine Spitfires. The supercharged S-Type R joined the line-up in 2003. The ‘R’ is powered by a supercharged V8 producing 291kW (390bhp), and can sprint from 0 to 96.5kph (60mph) in 5.3 seconds (0 to 100kph in 5.6 seconds). It includes 18-inch wheels and a wire mesh grille to differentiate it from the crowd as well as a discreet rear spoiler.

One of the best diesels around (a 2.7-litre V6 turbo diesel offering 152kW) will soon be offered in New Zealand. They are very well spoken of in Europe and we tried one in New Zealand recently — it was superb, exceptionally quiet, and the combination of a punchy engine with economy seemed a little unreal.

Don’t be fooled by the retro shape though, the new S-Type has every electronic trick in the book — voice activated controls, cruise control that sees the car in front, and AB-everything.

It is interesting to note that in 1963 and 1999 Jaguar introduced an S-Type that produced mixed feelings about styling and ergonomics, yet both models received high praise for their dynamics and refinement. Similarly, these cars were produced in an era when Jaguar quality was not at all suspect. In the modern day JD Power customer satisfaction surveys done in the huge US market, Jaguars top the listings in either first or second place, where as Mercedes and BMW customers have become very vocal in their critisicms. That’s a bit of a turn around and quite at odds with most New Zealander’s perceptions of Jaguars.

I wonder how long it will take for Jaguar’s real quality to change that perception in New Zealand?

2006 JAGUAR S-TYPE 3.0 V6 SE

Engine: V6

Capacity: 2967cc

Max power: 150kW (201bhp) at 6800rpm

Max torque: 300Nm (221lb/ft) at 4100rpm

Bore/stroke: 89×79.5mm

Transmission: Six-speed automatic

Suspension: Independent front and rear

Brakes: Vented disc/disc, ABS

DIMENSIONS

Width: 1819mm

Height: 1444mm

Length: 4861mm

Weight: 1637kg

PERFORMANCE

Max speed 233kph

0-100kph 7.9 secs

NZ new price: $119,990

1967 Jaguar 3.4S (3.8S)

Engine: Straight six

Capacity: 3442cc (3781cc)

Max power: 157kW (210bhp) at 5550rpm (164kW (220bhp) at (5500rpm)

Max torque: 293Nm (216lb/ft) at 3000rpm (325Nm (240lb/ft) at (3000rpm)

Bore/stroke: 83x106mm (87x106mm)

Transmission: Four-speed manual, overdrive optional, or Borg Warner three-speed auto

Suspension: All independent, by coil springs, wishbones and anti-roll bar (front); lower wishbones, radius arms and coil springs (rear). LSD std on 3.8

Brakes: Disc/disc

DIMENSIONS

Width: 1705mm (5 feet 6.5 inches)

Height: 1429mm (4 feet 7.75 inches)

Length: 4795mm (15 feet 7inches)

Wheelbase: 2753mm (107.38 inches)

Weight: 1624kg (1674kg) (3580lb (3690lb))

PERFORMANCE

0-96.5kph 0-96.5kph (60mph) 14.2 secs (10.5 secs)

Max speed 185kph (193kph) (115mph (120mph)) (figures for manual cars with overdrive)

PRODUCTION

Production: September 1963 to August 1968

Production nos: 8665 RHD 3.4, 1371 LHD 3.4, 9717 RHD 3.8 and 5418 LHD 3.8

Total prod: 25,171

Words: Tim Nevinson Photos: Quinn Hamill & Jared Clark

When Eoin drives a New Zealand-built replica of the legendary HWM the experience brings back memories of the original cars — and one special HWM; the Stovebolt Special.

Words: Eoin young Photos: Terry Marshall

Phil Scragg was a hill climb champion in Britain when I was gathering an interest in motor sport as a scruffy bank clerk in Timaru; borrowing old copies of Motor Sport and imagining I was part of Scragg’s crew, linking with the special he had confected around a cycle-guarded HWM racing car fitted with a Jaguar engine. I never met Scragg, but he had inadvertently worked his way with me, and I was hooked on motor sport. I met up with namesake (no relation) David Young, and was soon passengering with him in the ex-Peter Whitehead C-type Jaguar that Sir Stirling Moss now campaigns in classic events.

The car Scragg flung up hills in the late ’50s was broader in the beam than the original elegant little F2 HWMs

The Scragg Jag came back into my life again this year when I visited Ross McGregor and he showed me photos of his special, a car that had literally been made around my memories of Phil Scragg and his HWM-Jaguar. Barry Gurdler was responsible for making my memories into a motor car when he commissioned the splendid Tempero family coach-building company in Oamaru to re-create a version of that car.

Next best thing

I should now pin my colours to the mast and confess that I am an enthusiast for the feel and the excitement of old sporting machinery, and I don’t much mind whether the machinery is pedigree or not. To a large degree — well, to a total degree — this is because I could never afford a real one, so in my book a replica is the next best thing. I am made aware, almost on a daily basis since I mix with vintagents, that there are originals and there are fakes, and gentlemen do not discuss or associate with the non-original.

I had my own share of non-originality when I bought a Kougar in the UK. Dick Crosthwaite — the specialist engineer who has built Auto Union GP cars from the rubber up — had the idea of re-creating the Le Mans Replica Frazer-Nash powered by a Dolomite Sprint engine. A sort of replica-replica. But the Aldington family, which owned the Frazer-Nash name, scotched the project after the initial run had been made. Dick figured it was too good an idea to dump, so he scaled up the design to take a Jaguar engine, and the Kougar was created. It was a sort of poor-man’s C-type or

D-type, and I bought it from Stephen Langton’s Reigate emporium for £7500. Back then I thought it looked greata. When I look at photographs now it looks fairly awful. I loved driving it, and it always drew a crowd. Until a bloke in a petrol station came over, congratulated me on my motor car — and then asked where the spare wheel was. That was when it dawned on me that it didn’t have one. For the rest of the five weeks I owned the Kougar I was paranoid about getting a puncture¦

Jaguar special

Barry Gurdler commissioned the Tempero company to build a car in the spirit of the Scragg hill climb Jaguar, and in my eyes it’s my dream come true. Officialdom claims the car can’t even be a replica, because they’ve defined a replica as, in this case a car, that having every component replicating the original while not actually being an original. So it’s that dread four-letter word starting with ‘f’ — fake. There. I’ve said it. Everyone happy now?

It never left the HWM factory — Hersham & Walton Motors at Walton on Thames — so it can in no way claim to be an HWM, and never mind the fact that the current HWM management was delighted to send Gurdler original badges, key-rings and other trinkets. They even offered him a chassis number. In the eyes of vintage officialdom the car can only exist as a Jaguar Special, and everyone can ooh and aah over it, give it the accolade it deserves and have a clear conscience.

The car Scragg flung up hills in the late ’50s was broader in the beam than the original elegant little F2 HWMs. There was another HWM fitted with a small-block Chev V8, and it gained classic fame in the States as the Stovebolt Special. This feature will be a marriage of stories combining backgrounds and driving impressions. I have always wondered why a Queenstown-based group set off to build a series of cars copying the handsome single-seater F2 HWMs when it could have copied the first HWMs, which were one-and-a-half seaters. The replicas — sorry, fakes — could then have been made road legal, and offered the opportunity of taking a passenger.

The engine-turned alloy dash gives a vintage visual massage for the driver who is anxious to be carried back to the ’50s

It’s my contention that Tempero made a better job of the re-creation than HWM did half a century earlier. Maybe retro-engineering assisted. The twin-skinned alloy body is a good-looker, but Ross McGregor says it means a measure of problems in that the body panels can’t be removed. The engine cover and the boot lid have Dzus fasteners. The rear wheel lives in the boot. The car commands attention. “Nice bum on it,” observes Errol Norris, he who built and raced the EN Special longer ago than he cares to remember, and not a man who makes idle comment. The windscreen is full width.

On the road

Goggles would have made a good drive great, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable. The engine-turned alloy dash gives a vintage visual massage for the driver who is anxious to be carried back to the ’50s. The big black-faced Smiths instruments and switchgear are from the donor vehicle. The 4.2-litre Jaguar engine has a four-speed overdrive gearbox. I couldn’t remember where reverse was that first time, when I desperately needed it, with the front wheels aimed over the abyss on Godley Heights as I was trying to turn it for another photo run for lens wizard, Terry Marshall.

It’s fitted with disc brakes all round, inboard rears and outboard fronts as on the donor Jaguar. There were Jaguar wires on each corner. The driver has a super view, sighting out over the louvred bonnet, sitting in squat broad buckets. There’s no driver’s door but one for the passenger, possibly in the interests of female decorum. There was a white roundel on the flank for a racing number. Ross had reminded me about the habit of the car to jack-rabbit on tentative acceleration. It was a car that liked to be shown who was boss, and in my brief drive I regret to say it wasn’t always me being boss.

Stovebolt

I was aware that my old mate Murray Smith had owned the Stovebolt Special in the States. I rode from Paris to Monaco in a vintage Monte Carlo Rally a decade or so ago in his 3/4.5-litre Bentley and he told me tales of the Stovebolt which sounded like the ideal marriage of car and engine. Fellow columnist Simon Taylor now owns the Stovebolt in the UK, and he was kind enough to recount the story of his car, as culled from various publications of the day and his own exciting experiences with it.

Simon became editor of Autosport in 1968, became a director of Haymarket Publications in 1975, was MD from 1980 to ’95 and chairman from 1995 until 2000, when he stood down to concentrate on writing and broadcasting — and racing his beloved Stovebolt Special. You must appreciate that Simon has always been an enthusiast.

The original HWMs

HWM built four offset-single-seater F2 cars with Alta engines for the 1950 season, and the small team included the legendary Alf Francis, who would go on to work closely with Stirling Moss. The bodies were made by Leacroft, a local panel shop run by racing driver Bob Cowell, who would later change sex and become Roberta. There were three works cars and a customer car. Simon’s car was the only one of the four to carry a chassis plate.

In those days it was easier to cross borders with whatever chassis number was convenient; “It was the third of the three 1950 works cars and yet it carried the number HWM 49-02, probably because team owner John Heath wanted any inquisitive customs man to think the car was at least a year old! Each car was hand built and had visible detail differences — aero screen mountings, body catches, body louvres — which has made it possible, when looking at photographs, to identify which car was driven by which driver.”

The engine-turned alloy dash gives a vintage visual massage for the driver who is anxious to be carried back to the ’50s

Belgian jazz man Johnny Claes — his band was known as Johnny Claes and his Clay Pigeons — raced Simon’s HWM in the first three 1950 races, Rudi Fischer raced it twice and then Stirling Moss took it over for the 1950 F2 race at Reims, finishing third behind Ascari’s works Ferraris and Andre Simon’s Gordini. It would be fair to say that Stirling’s next race in the car that would become the Stovebolt Special — the 1950 Bari Grand Prix for F1 cars — promoted Moss into the international spotlight. He finished third again, but this time beaten only by Farina and Fangio in the works F1 Alfa Romeos and ahead of Levegh’s Talbot, Cortese’s Ferrari and Biondetti’s Maserati. In the Naples GP a fortnight later he was leading the final, ahead of the Ferraris, when a back marker moved over on him and he hit a tree.

Simon: “He staggered semi-conscious from the wreck with a smashed kneecap and his front teeth knocked out. When I told Stirling 49 years later that I’d bought the car, he said, ‘Have a look in the under-tray, boy. Perhaps you’ll find my teeth!’”

The wreck was eventually rebuilt and sold to a wealthy Swiss, Count Jacques de Wurstemburger, who raced as ‘Herve’ when pseudonyms were popular among wealthy sportsmen so their fathers wouldn’t be aware of their dangerous pursuits.

Toulo de Graffenried, another wealthy Swiss who had won the British GP at Silverstone in 1949, told de Wurstemburger that Twentieth Century Fox was planning a movie called The Racers, with Kirk Douglas as the hero, and it needed cars. As there was no GP at Monaco in 1952, the movie people staged their own. Kirk Douglas refused to leave Hollywood, so the American driver John Fitch was signed as technical director and doubled as Douglas in the race scenes that included a spoof crash with the HWM. They also used Spa and Reims and did final filming, now with Douglas at the wheel, in Hollywood.

Bargain buy

Tom Carstens, a top sports car racer in West Coast events, learned that the movie’s cars were for sale and offered to buy the slightly-battered HWM for $5000. He was told that Fox was in the movie business, not the motor business, and if he wanted the HWM he would have to take the two 4CLT Maseratis and a brace of sports-racing Ferraris as a package — all for his offered $5000! He sold the Italian cars, which helped fund the total rebuild of the HWM, a make-over that included a Chevy V8 from Edelbrock, a Jaguar gearbox, a Halibrand quick-change diff and Halibrand disc brakes.

The September 1956 issue of the American magazine Sports Cars Illustrated devoted eight pages to the transformation, and christened the new car the Stovebolt Special in its cover headline. The hot-rod people dismissed this because they regarded the flat-head Chevrolet six-cylinder as a Stovebolt, and the V8 was something else again.

It would be fair to say that Stirling’s next race in the car that would become the Stovebolt Special — the 1950 Bari Grand Prix for F1 cars — promoted Moss into the international spotlight

Simon: “The car was taken back to Tacoma, Washington, where it was worked on by Dave Fogg, an Allard racer and friend of Tom Carstens. Tom really wanted to get back at the rich Ferrari-owning Californians, who scoffed at the hick loggers from the Washington forests, calling them squirrels. So Dave made up a delightful little brass plaque with the legend ‘Made in the Woods by Squirrels’. It’s still on the car today.”

The car had a hectic and successful racing life until the mid-’60s, when it was laid up in the back of a garage to be re-discovered, and eventually restored, by John ‘Bat’ Masterson, who fitted Wilwood disc brakes and a four-speed Chevy gear box, and raced in historic events in the early 1980s. Murray Smith bought the historic old vehicle a few years later, and Simon — who had known the car since reading that copy of Sports Cars Illustrated as a 12-year-old schoolboy dreaming about racing as a public school boarder — made his 43-year-old dream come true by buying the Stovebolt.

They made the perfect partnership. “During the 2001 season I did several hill climbs, and generally learned about the car. I didn’t want to be bothered with tow cars and trailers, as I regard driving the car to and from events as part of the fun of owning it.” Peter Denty did another restorative rebuild over the winter of 2001/2 and Mike Huddart rebuilt the Chev V8, replacing the worn-out Stromberg carburettors with a trio of small twin-choke Rochesters. He saw 420bhp on the dyno, with  430lb/ft of torque.

Simon’s proudest performance in the Stovebolt was taking it to Laguna Seca in 2003. “It practiced on Friday — we qualified 12th out of 23, which I was happy with as I’d never been to the place, even though the car had! — and in the race on Saturday we worked up to eighth, two places behind Phil Hill in the Mille Miglia Alfa coupe. Then on Sunday we peeled off the numbers, drove it onto the lawns at Pebble Beach, and got second in class in the concours. It must have been just about the only car on the Monterey Peninsula that weekend that raced at Laguna Seca, was shown at Pebble Beach, and travelled between the two in the Californian traffic jams under its own power. It’s that kind of car¦”

Tim road tests two top-selling sporting coupes, and examines the history behind each car and marque.

Words: Tim Nevinson Photos: Jared Clark

Whilst we tend to get caught up in the design attributes and competition pedigree of cars of the past, the real art for motor manufacturers was selling them — any other aspects simply being a means to an end, either helping or hindering the cars’ sales success. For the record, BMW sold 86,219 6 Series cars between November 1975 and April 1989, and Jaguar sold 115,413 XJ-S units between 1975 and 1996.

The basis for the two cars is very different in that Jaguar used the floorpan and basic mechanicals from the larger XJ6/12, which had been in existence since 1968, whereas BMW used the mid-size E12 5 Series sedan floor pan (less than a year old) for the 6 Series, and fully updated it after the new E28 5 Series sedan came out in 1981. BMW only produced the 6 Series as a coupe, and only used the M30 series of engines (apart from the low volume M-power car). Jaguar made cabriolet and convertible versions of the XJ-S in addition to the coupe, and two very different engine installations. The Jaguar and BMW both received major facelifts during their production run, which were more apparent under their skin.

Two sports coupe rivals — one from Great Britain and one from Germany FIGHT OVER KIWI TARMAC

In retrospect, looking at these bare facts you would have to say BMW came out on top, but you’d be forgetting that the XJ-S made such an impression on BMW that it introduced a completely new range to replace the 6 Series (the 8 Series), more akin to the XJ-S in size and using a brand new V12 engine. However, it was a total flop sales-wise, while the XJ-S became Jaguar’s longest-running sports car ever.

It is very interesting to see that both manufacturers looked longingly at their competitor’s products, and each produced something to match. What marked these two manufacturers apart, at the time, was the speed with which they could develop totally new models. Jaguar, originally hamstrung by Leyland’s bureaucracy, chronic lack of foresight and investment in development, had very long cycle times and reacted slavishly to American regulations and trends, which, of course, could have changed by the time any given model hit the streets.

E-type replacement

Code named XJ27, Jaguar’s XJ-S was a slow starter. Jaguar was in no position to tackle the fuel crisis, having recently put most of its eggs into the V12 basket. The XJS was 45kg lighter than the XJ12 sedan, and excellent as a GT in the truest sense; a car made for Grand Touring. Fantastic value, there was nothing to touch it. It was a one or more steps further in the evolution of what the E-type had already evolved into.

The reason behind the E-type’s demise, upcoming American crash legislation, meant solid hard tops and bulbous bumpers simply had to be part of a product aimed primarily at the US market. Taking the styling aside, the press, which influenced the market greatly, wanted the E-type to go back to its roots, but its replacement emphatically took it the other way. Jaguar had a problem on its hands impressing on the market the abilities of its new GT, something it couldn’t address until it had shaken off the shackles of the Leyland empire.

Bob Tullius in the US was making a good job of it by winning TransAm and SCCA races with his privately entered XJ-S, but there was no money in the coffers or inclination on the part of BL to repeat the sorry episode in Europe with Broadspeed’s V12 coupes.

We have got used the old bird now, but there is no denying that in direct contrast to BMW’s sporting product of the time, the XJ-S was striking rather than beautiful. Regardless of their capabilities, cars in this class are not bought from a practical standpoint, but rather as a statement about their drivers. Jaguar made life difficult for itself by using very unconventional styling. Whilst there is no doubt that an early XJ-S would immediately catch the attention, the BMWs of the time were easier on the eye. Interestingly, later versions of both designs have, in retrospect, a timeless quality — particularly for the Jaguar once the roof had been lopped off.

BMW’s big coupe

Where the styling of the XJ-S owed nothing to any of its predecessors, the launch pad for the 6 Series was the undeniably well proportioned BMW CSi , which was a reasonable seller and made BMW a great reputation on the race tracks. The CS series was itself a slow starter, with rather odd frontal styling on the first 2000CS coupe of 1965, which in turn owed its style to the Bertone BMW 503 built on the V8 chassis from the very old fashioned ‘Baroque Angel’.

BMW tasked Karmann (which would much later handle the XJ-S convertible) to create the 2000CS, using totally different Neue Klasse BMW running gear, but with a strong family resemblance to Bertone’s 503. The questionable feature on these cars was the large amount of painted steel at the front flanked by headlights set into a wrap-around, oblong glass housing. It was also hugely expensive for a 2.0-litre four-cylinder car, but once these styling features were deleted for the Giugiaro inspired E9, and the engine uprated to a six-cylinder 2.8, the CS was up and away.

The XJS was 45kg lighter than the XJ12 sedan, and excellent as a GT in the truest sense; a car made for Grand Touring

The ultimate CS, the 3.0CSL Batmobile — king of the tracks in the hands of Hans Stuck and Ronnie Peterson — provided the BMW sporting heritage we see today. BMW’s track reputation was formidable, and it replaced the CSL before it got too old with the new E24 6 Series in 1976. BMW’s pretty E9 CSi coupes had been pillarless, but the Germans’ interpretation of future American regulations meant that the 6 Series E24 could not be built in this manner, so it had a strong B-post and roof section, making it considerably heavier than the outgoing E9. It was so heavy that a weight saving programme was quickly initiated. In contrast to the XJ-S, the 6 Series is considered by many to be the most aesthetically pleasing BMW of all time. Paul Bracq’s aggressive front forward styling and airy glass-house was exactly what the doctor ordered.

The E24 range was initially comprised of 630CS and 633CSi models. The 137kW (184bhp) 2986cc 630CS and 149kW (200bhp) 3210cc 633CSi both used the sweet M30 in-line six from the 7 Series BMW sedan. Standard transmission on both models was a four-speed Getrag 262/9, with an optional three-speed ZF HP-22 auto transmission. The suspension was from the E12 5 Series, and the first cars were built by Karmann, although the project was quickly brought in-house once its sales potential was realised.

Whilst it did not break much new ground in its entirety, the E24 used many features that became BMW’s feted trademarks, such as the dashboard layout and the ‘check control’ test panel.
To the untrained eye the 6 Series always looked much the same, but development was constant. In 1978 the Getrag five-speed came in, and 1979  electronic engine management and ABS braking were a option. In mid-1982 the E-28 5 Series sedan platform was placed under the coupe. The suspension, engine, interior and engine management came in for a refit, the obvious difference from outside being increased wheel arch flares and different spoilers. A four-speed automatic became an option in 1983, the last year of production for the 633CSi version.

On April 6, 1989, the last E-24 coupe rolled off the assembly line. A convertible was never officially offered, although Crayford and Bauer produced a few to special order.

Motorsport

The real collector’s piece was BMW Motorsport’s 213kW (286bhp) M635CSi with a four-valve cylinder head, along with road cars developed by specialists Alpina, Hartge and Schnitzer, which raced alongside the works cars. Not only was the 6 Series a success in the showrooms, it continued where the CSL left off in motor sport. The coupe ranges of Jaguar and BMW would not have been seen as direct competition for each other until they started to knock seven bells out of each other on the world’s race tracks. BMW was an up and coming brand, marketing small and medium class cars which now had a rock solid reputation on the race track, whereas Jaguar was resting on its laurels as a manufacturer of big luxury cars with a slightly distant, old-world racing pedigree.

There are many reasons the two manufacturers butted it out on the track and thence became bitter rivals in the luxury car segment, but there was one central character, a canny Scot, Thomas Walkinshaw, an opportunist if ever there was one. Son of an East Lothian market gardener, Walkinshaw broke both his legs whilst driving a works March, ending any further aspirations to be a single-seater champion.

Hired by Ford to drive a Capri, Tom won his class in the British Touring Car Championship. Building on that, he formed Tom Walkinshaw Racing (TWR) in 1976, and that year scored his first major victory in a BMW E9 CSL at Silverstone. TWR then began preparing BMWs, including all the cars for BMW GB’s one-make BMW County Challenge in 1979 and 1980, whilst ‘Wee Tam’ himself continued to race other machinery. His Mazda RX-7s won the British Touring Car Championship in 1980 and 1981 with Win Percy.

Wee Tam

Top of Wee Tam’s agenda was winning race championships, but he realised that by doing this he could generate income providing value-added cachet to the manufacturers’ brands by building their race cars and reputations. Subsequently he hoped to get into design, development and manufacturing partnerships with them, and this would become a familiar pattern.

Whilst there is no doubt AN early XJ-S would immediately catch the attention, the BMWs of the time were easier on the eye

His racing expertise came from an ability to read regulations and find the right car to exploit them. Walkinshaw recognised that the new ETCC regulations could suit the Jaguar XJ-S (a real long shot considering the perceived failure of the respected Broadspeed Company to make the heavy XJ12C work as a racing car). Whilst failing to twist Jaguar’s arm into an outright works team, for 1982 TWR did gain support to build two cars as a private Team Motul entry, with a view to works support later.  The difference in success between Broadspeed and TWR’s Jaguar race programmes was in the regulations, TWR’s willingness to explore their limits, and Walkinshaw tolerating no interference from corporate nobodies. His first season brought a win and a second placing in the Tourist Trophy Race at Silverstone.

At the time Jaguar had just emerged from a very tight spot, production of the XJ-S having stopped completely for a short time in 1980. The whole enterprise was threatened with closure by then new chairman John Egan, who had previously rescued Unipart and Massey Ferguson from oblivion.

Hard times

Jaguar’s customer satisfaction was low, and the fuel crises of the ’70s had bitten hard. Egan badly needed to polish a tarnished image. After TWR’s first season, an arrangement with Walkinshaw made total sense. Egan presided over a strong resurgence of demand, helped in no small way by Walkinshaw’s racing activities. In ’83 the 1400kg Jaguars took five wins to the BMWs’ six, and Walkinshaw won the European title in 1984 with the XJ-S, including victory in the Spa 24 Hours. As with BMW and Mazda, he formed a specialist offshoot, JaguarSport, then made manufacturing arrangements for the XJ220 and later Aston Martin DB7 using XJ-S running gear.

As a postscript, it was decided to bring the TWR V12 XJ-S out of retirement for the prestigious Bathurst 1000 race in Australia in October 1985, as well as the Wellington Street Race and Pukekohe in 1987. The Jaguars finished first and third in Australia’s Great Race, and on February 1, 1987, the works Group A XJ-S finished its career with a second placing at Pukekohe. Private entrants also had a go with the XJ-S down under. In Australia, there were John Goss — with his Group C-turned-Group A car — and Gary Wilmington while, in New Zealand, Mike Hourigan also flew the Jaguar V12 flag.

the BMW 635 coupe won the European Touring Car Championship in 1982, 1985 and 1986

Despite its light alloy construction Jaguar’s AJ6 engine was never used for serious competition, in direct contrast to BMW’s six-cylinder, which dominated for nearly 10 years.
Having won the ETCC five times with the CSL, the BMW 635 coupe won the European Touring Car Championship in 1982, 1985 and 1986. In 1985, Jim Richards’ 635 took the Australian Touring Car Championship. At the Bathurst 1000, the BMW-backed Johnny Cecotto/ Roberto Ravalglia car was second to John Goss and Armin Hahne in their TWR V12 Jaguar, with Richards fourth. Around half a dozen works and quasi-works BMW 635 Group A cars came to New Zealand.

Ogle, May and AJ

Back in 1980 Jaguar chairman Egan had commissioned a facelift on all Jaguar models to an Ogle design, and coinciding with the V12’s High Efficiency, May ‘Fireball’ cylinder heads. With a new wood-look inside and undoubtedly a better-looking exterior, the XJ-S HE was now capable of 250kph. Jaguar could claim the fastest production car in the world fitted with automatic transmission.

Going back to Jaguar’s yawning product development cycles, the ’70s fuel crisis had prompted Jaguar to a policy of eventually only building small engines, and in planning its new XJ40 sedan, Jaguar resolutely fought off Leyland’s bid to fit the Rover V8, obstinately designing the XJ40’s engine bay so it would not accommodate a V-formation engine, whether it be a twelve or an eight. It also made life difficult for itself by opting for an all-alloy construction straight-six, something no one else had produced in volume. Compromising further, the engine had to have the same bore centres for production reasons as the V12, so it was a lengthy unit. However, the new AJ6 was around 30 per cent lighter.

Accepted practice at Jaguar was to test new concepts on the public in relatively low-volume sports cars. The XJ27 spawned the XJ57, a 3.6-litre AJ6 version of the V12 GT. Spurning the excellent two-valve May head, a bulky alloy four-valve arrangement was placed atop the long alloy six. Inclined at 15 degrees from the vertical, the AJ6 still necessitated a large bulge in the XJ-S’s bonnet. With the 24-valve head the output was 168kW (225bhp) compared to 121kW (162bhp) for a 3.4-litre XK, but well short of the V12’s 223kW (299bhp) — this was probably the first time a power bulge had indicated less power.

Shrinking pains

In unit with GM’s 200 four-speed auto the Jaguar’s powertrain was so flimsy that development was halted, but far too late. Rover’s 77mm five-speed manual had been thrown out early on in favour of the Getrag unit used by BMW, but work with the GM auto went on far too long before the ZF’s 4HP22 auto, also used by BMW, was tried. ZF’s unit was much more suitable than the GM transmission, but had to wait until well after XJ57 production started for its introduction.

the six-cylinder version came into its own, an agile, relatively economical, genuine competitor to the BMW 6 Series

The six-cylinder XJ-S was announced as ‘manual only’ at the same time as the cabriolet. Sixty miles per hour could be reached in 7.6 seconds, and a genuine 233kph (145mph) was attainable. But it couldn’t possibly be as smooth as the V12, and, in truth, wasn’t particularly smooth for an in-line six. Jaguar’s fuel injection technology at the time could not deal smoothly with fuel cut-off and reinstatement, and with a compliant, softly set-up drive-line the new six gave an unpleasant jerkiness on trailing throttle. It did not get great press, and first impressions are lasting impressions.

Once the infinitely more suitable ZF auto was phased in, the jerkiness evident in the manual drive-line dissipated, and Jaguar later changed to digital fuel injection which solved the problem at source. After many detail improvements to the engine — and an optional revamp of the suspension, tightening it up to ‘Sports pack’ configuration — the six-cylinder version came into its own, an agile, relatively economical, genuine competitor to the BMW 6 Series, and sufficiently different from the 5.3 V12.

The V12 was a similar price to the 635 BMW, the AJ6 version much cheaper. The Sports-pack became standard on AJ6-engined cars, a 4.0-litre version in 1989 further improved it, and a convertible and a full facelift enhanced the car inside and out. The AJ6 is mechanically unburstable, with the same crank dimensions as the V12. It never became a true classic like the XK or V12 before it and gave way to the AJ26 V8, but two out of three ain’t bad. Because of its shaky start the AJ6 XJ-S was a real sleeper in the new car market, and now in the classic arena. Generally speaking, buying policy is the later the better, but later models equipped with an airbag were compromised in the driving position.

The same applies to the BMW. The later the better, as they were relatively slow initially, the fast 3.5-litre 635 not becoming available until mid 1978. The Getrag-equipped manual BMW never suffered from the shunt associated with the early manual AJ6 Jaguar because its driveline was torsionally much stiffer, and Motronic Digital fuel injection was available to them much earlier.

Rivals on the road

With the auto option on both our featured cars, there was nothing to choose between them. Both cars make sublime tourers, and when fitted with the Sports-pack the Jaguar can stay with the BMW when the windy bits get tough. With a light alloy six and tight suspension the Jaguar confounds its critics — it is as fast as the BMW, turns in and handles just as well. The starter on the Jaguar sounds really crude, spoiling the ambience somewhat, and once on the run the sound of the BMW is definitely sweeter than the XJ-S, but this is only an issue when the throttle is wide open. On the BMW the power unit feels fixed to the car, whereas on the Jaguar you can’t feel it but you can hear it when it’s being worked.

With a light alloy six and tight suspension the Jaguar confounds its critics

The interior of the Jaguar is more gentleman’s club compared to the BMW, but the BMW has easier access, considerably more space, better all-round visibility and ergonomics. Both have acres of leather, with the Jaguar’s seats more comfortable and supportive. It would have been a tough decision at the time. The size of the cheque book should have made the difference in favour of the Jaguar, but in all likelihood the BMW 635 had considerably more cachet at the time — enough even to make it more desirable than a V12 Jaguar.
Today, any rust free XJ-S is exceptional value; early 6 Series cars are reasonably priced too, but a tidy late model 635 like this one is highly prized.

1988 BMW 635CSi  Auto

Engine: alloy head, iron block 12-valve sohc in-line six cylinder
Capacity: 3430cc
Power: 162kW (220bhp) at 5700rpm
Torque: 315Nm (232lb/ft) at 6500rpm
Transmission: ZF 4HP24 four-speed auto
Brakes: vented disc/solid disc, ABS
Front suspension: MacPherson struts
Rear suspension: semi-trailing arms, coil springs
Steering: ball and nut, PAS
Tyres: 240/45VR15
Wheels: 15 x 6.5 aluminium alloy

Dimensions

O/all length: 4870 mm
Width: 1725mm
Height: 1365mm
Wheelbase: 2625mm
Weight: 1576kg

Performance

0-100kph: 8.5sec
Top speed: 216km/h
Economy: 81/100km (34.9mpg) at 90kph

1988 Jaguar XJS 3.6 Auto Sports pack

Engine: all-alloy 24-valve dohc in-line six-cylinder
Capacity: 3590cc
Power: 165kW (221bhp) at 5100rpm
Torque: 337Nm (249lb/ft) at 4000rpm
Transmission: ZF 4HP22 four-speed auto
Brakes: vented disc/solid disc, ABS
Front suspension: wishbones, coil springs
Rear suspension: radius arm, lower wishbone, driveshaft top link, four coil springs
Steering: rack and pinion PAS
Tyres: 235/60VR15
Wheels: 15 x 6.5 alloy

Dimensions

O/all length: 4764mm
Width: 1881mm
Height: 1261mm
Wheelbase: 2591mm
Weight: 1680kg

Performance

0-100kph: 8.4sec
Top speed: 220kph
Economy: 7.8l/100km (36mpg) at 90kph

Acknowledgements

Stuart Collingwood is a North Shore business broker now, but in Christchurch he traded an A40 Devon for his first Jaguar (MkVII) at the age of 15. His father nearly belted him when he got home, and insisted he take it straight back to Archibald’s. Fifteen years ago he bought a Mk2 and just continued collecting more Jaguars, up to five at the moment including our featured XJ-S. It was an English car originally, travelling through Singapore before coming to NZ.

The Jaguar was tatty when Stuart bought it in 2000, and it took him three to four months to get it looking as nice as it is now. Stuart is a stalwart of the Auckland Jaguar Club, which we thank for locating the car. Our featured BMW comes from a private collection.

Jacqui dons flying helmet and goggles to test a Jaguar with a particularly long New Zealand racing pedigree

It’s hard to know how to react to Bryan and Marion Wyness: let loose the green-eyed monster or think it couldn’t happen to a nicer pair. Consider, for a moment their garage full of enviable bikes and cars — and the fact they’ve the time and wherewithal to enjoy them. (Indeed, to traverse the fabled cross-Asia silk route on a new BMW motorbike; race a historic Jaguar; potter round New Zealand’s gorgeous East Cape à deux on a Harley…)

Yup, the green-eyed monster was poised to go, but in the event, stayed firmly on the leash, for Bryan offered me the keys to his Jag. Correction — one of his Jags, or to be more accurate, Marion’s Jag, as it has her name on the papers. That’s because she had to pick it up from the auction and Bryan — in a meeting — received the text message: “I love it. It’s mine.”

The pair were dead set on this, the 1951 XK120. “We’d just missed out on an ex-Ron Roycroft alloy-bodied car — it went overseas — and when we heard this one was for sale we were determined to keep such a part of New Zealand racing history in New Zealand.” The most famous element of that history is Ray Archibald’s drive in the first New Zealand GP at Ardmore in January 1954.

Provenance

Bryan’s proud of the car’s heritage, driving me to Ardmore aerodrome — where he’s well known as a pilot — to reminisce. We paused at the end of the runway: “I ran it down that straight 50 years after that first GP to the day in January 2004 at an air show.

“A Grand Prix group had been set up in the ’50s to run an international GP,” Bryan says. “It wasn’t the first one, but the aim was to get current GP cars to New Zealand and they got the use of Ardmore from 1954 to 1962.

“That first one, they got a stellar entry from the UK and Europe and they allowed sports cars like this one to run with the GP cars. But the guy who won it, Stan Jones, was driving a home-built Australian car with an engine from a World War II Scout car — the Maybach Special.”

Bryan remembers the race, though he wasn’t among the reputedly 60,000-strong crowd. “I was in Wellington and listened to it on the radio — etched in my mind is the eerie howl of the 1.5-litre V16 BRM down this straight, revving up to 14,000rpm, which in those days was just phenomenal.”

But back to his Jag, which withdrew after 91 of the 101 laps from overheating. “Remember, it was a pretty much bog-standard British sports car racing a very long GP — each lap was about 2.1 miles. A week later at Wigram, it finished sixth in the Lady Wigram Trophy race, then completed a sports car race and got second place. That’s something like 150 miles of racing in one day.”

It was a memorable day for other reasons. A blown tyre put Archibald into the hay bales and Bryan’s still got a photo of some hapless mechanic tugging hay from the undercarriage.

People tend to think that Archibald — the founder of Archibald motors in Christchurch, then Archibald and Shorter in Auckland — was the first owner, but he wasn’t. This car was dispatched from Jaguar in the UK on September 8, 1951 — destination Independent Motor Sales, Wellington. And there it sat, for reasons unknown, until February 11, 1953, when Georgina Buchanan — from the well-known Masterton car and racing family — bought it.

She owned it for just three months before Archibald slapped his money down. His first move was to fit a fully modified C-Type head to the then 3.4-litre engine. He raced the car on at least 10 occasions, including the GP, between 1954 and ’57, before he sold it to Alf Bell.

That detail prompts the comment that people remember the car, often telling him they’ve got a photo of it racing. “I pulled up in Arrowtown during a Jaguar rally and this woman came up and said ‘Did Alf Bell own this car?’ I said yes, and she said ‘He’s my brother’.

“So I drove the car round to his place at Lake Hayes, and he was quite emotional — he didn’t think it still existed.”

It’s had around 20 owners in all during an eventful life that included a role in the film The Scarecrow.

Heresy

When Bryan bought it, not surprisingly, it was getting a little tired. Since then it’s had a bare metal re-spray in British Racing Green. The brakes — the drums replaced by 1950s discs front and rear before Bryan bought it — and the standard lever arm shocks have been overhauled; new fuel lines fitted, and the engine taken out to 3.8 litres. Twin two-inch SU carbs and C-type exhaust manifolds were fitted too — “Which is why it goes so well,” Bryan says, “because it breathes so well.”

The idea of throwing this beauty around on the gravel seems heretical, but he’s adamant it’s great on the slithery stuff

As the story unfolds, there’s a rattle and a nearby hangar opens. Chris Verrall appears, is immediately entranced by the Jag and gets talking: “I’ve got a Series II XJ6. I’ve done 350,000km since I got it.” Bryan has one too, and they’re off. Soon the bonnet’s up. “It’s a 3.8 with an early straight-port head off a Mk10 — the same as an E-type,” Bryan says. “It’s all balanced, lightened and shot-peened. I’ve spec’ed a lot of Jag engines and this is beautiful. Standard crank, standard rods, but all lightened, balanced and shot-peened.” The engine is somewhat misleadingly embossed with the C-type name. It isn’t a C-type engine, “but those were the cam shaft covers for the C.”

Other changes are designed for frequent running under variable conditions. “So I can rally it in gravel, there’s an air cleaner from an XJ-6 fitted under the right guard. You can’t see it, so it looks authentic, but it stops dust getting into the engine. The original was wire mesh and it really only kept stones out.”

The idea of throwing this beauty around on the gravel seems heretical, but he’s adamant it’s great on the slithery stuff. “Being a separate chassis there’s so much flex, I think the wheels are always in contact with the road.”

The tyres attract interest. “I’ve got them on all the Jags but the V12. They’re British Avons — they’re excellent. They look like period cross-plies, but are actually radials. And they’re narrow — it’s easy to over-tyre a car like this.”

While he’s talking, another punter stops — he’s got an old Chevvy and is on the hunt for Avgas. Of course the airport’s awash with the stuff, but it’s not for sale to passers-by. Nevertheless, a serious debate on fuel and mix proportions is soon underway — our photographer seemingly specialises in Avgas disaster stories.
This Jaguar was tuned to run on 100 octane — it runs rich on anything else — and on the road Bryan likes to use a 20 per cent high-octane blend with 96. Of course, when he’s racing he uses Avgas, or it detonates.

The punter’s eyes are straying to the photo of Sybill Lupp taped to the bonnet. All the entrants in the Sybill Lupp Memorial race run a few years ago raced with her photo taped to the bonnet and Bryan’s left it there. Lupp, who’d raced MGs and Jaguars post-war and set up a Jaguar workshop in Wellington, serviced the Wyness family Jaguars from 1953 to the early 1980s and Bryan clearly admires her very much.

Power

But I’m impatient to cut the conversation short; it’s time to drive. The Jaguar’s soundtrack is especially appreciated by the passenger, because the double muffler exits just beneath my door. The wind’s buffeting my left ear, but despite the lack of a proper windscreen, I’m surprisingly well protected and warm from the shoulders down. More surprising, it’s quiet enough to converse, albeit with slightly raised voices. That’s because of the bit of plastic between the tiny twin screens. “It’s the best mod I’ve ever done — it just transforms the car for touring, otherwise the cold air and water streams straight off the bonnet and onto the occupants.”

The wind’s buffeting my left ear, but despite the lack of a proper windscreen, I’m surprisingly well protected and warm from the shoulders down

Leaving the motorway, Bryan changes down — there’s a loin-melting double-bark as the throttle blips. “It’s beautiful for heel-and-toeing, which lots of cars aren’t now,” he says. “It was set up to race originally, but what I love about this Jag motor is it’s so tractable. It’s going about 50kph here and I’m tooling along at 1200rpm in top.”
Now it’s my turn. On with Marion’s leather helmet and goggles. Slide into the seat, close the door and button the side-cover over it. Strap into the four-point harness and survey the instruments. Really only the tacho is visible, the amps, oil-water and petrol-oil dials disappearing into the distance with the speedo almost invisible to the driver at the passenger’s end of the array.

Release the fly-off handbrake — a finger-touch and it drops to the floor. Clutch in, engage gear and we’re off. That was easier than I’d expected.  The clutch is stiff, but not impossibly so, and power pickup is easy to feel. It helps that the gearbox relates well to the modern driver. The old Moss gearbox has been replaced with a Jaguar all synchro version from a year or two later.

The Moss had no synchro on first “and it was pretty shonky on second, third and fourth, so it was quite hard to drive and bloody awful if you got it wrong. ” This replacement has a built-in oil pump, so it’s a very low-wear ’box. The pedals are a bit close together — Bryan wears special driving shoes and even my smallish feet clashed occasionally, but soon I was tooling around Ardmore, getting the feel of it.

There’s no power steering of course, but though it’s heavy it’s nicely progressive and not too hard for my puny arms to manage comfortably. There’s oodles of feel through the surprisingly small wheel. “That’s not the standard steering wheel — it’s a little race wheel. I didn’t fit it, but I’ve got the standard one. It’s twice the size, and it’s got a bullet-shaped centrepiece, with the point sitting right close up.” His hand’s hovering inches from his heart as he grins — “you wouldn’t want to crash! It’d punch right into your chest.”

Nice thought, thanks Bryan. Speaking of which, we’d be in trouble if we rolled? “I’ve got a roll cage, which I do fit for races and hill climbs. The hoop bolts in behind the driver and passenger seats, with a brace from there down into the passenger footwell.”

Deliverance

What a wuss — it didn’t need a roll cage in the old days and its drivers survived — just. Alf Bell took the car to Ardmore for the 1959 GP meeting and flipped it during the sports car race. He claimed to have lost the brakes, hitting a straw bale and rolling it. He’d thrown himself into the cockpit, hanging onto the gear lever for dear life, and when the dust settled was seen emerging through the door, waving to the crowd.

“I’ve bounced it over so many roads I’ve buckled the wire wheels. They’ve been rebalanced, but there’s still a bit of a vibe.”

Such exploits continued — a week after he sold it, Alf had a call from the police, asking “whether anyone was hurt?” The new owner had put the car over a bank before completing the change of ownership papers¦

It’s that sort of car. You couldn’t imagine it sitting quietly in a museum — it wants to be driven. Not only does it sound fantastic, it’s very tractable. You can keep the revs low and ride the torque, but don’t lift off at the wrong moment. Massive understeer sees the Jag spearing straight ahead like a bolting racehorse; keep a grip on your nerves and pressure on the throttle and it carves round, even when you thought you were going too fast to make it.

Brian says he enjoys the balance between lift-off understeer and power-on oversteer. He uses the throttle to square off corners, especially in the gravel. That’s something I enjoy in the big Aussie V8s, but I wasn’t game to try it in Bryan’s XK120, even if he hadn’t been beside me at the time.

That Bryan and Marion really don’t treat the car gently is soon revealed by the odd vibe at speed. A slightly abashed Bryan explains, “I’ve bounced it over so many roads I’ve buckled the wire wheels. They’ve been rebalanced, but there’s still a bit of a vibe.”

He’s not kidding about the rough roads — this car’s been over the infamous Motu, and Bryan recalls one R’oilcan rally: “It’s the one everyone in the Waitemata club looks forward to because it’s diabolically difficult. There are masses of unsealed roads and farm tracks. Of course, we got a flat and the water table was so soft we sank in and I couldn’t get the jack under. We ended up using fence posts and all sorts to change the tyre.”

Bryan blames his local club for some of the shenanigans. “The Waitemata Branch of the Vintage Car Club is a seriously demented bunch of people who own seriously nice cars they treat with complete disdain. They hurl them about country roads!” Right. And you don’t? He grins. This car’s meant to be driven — hard. And clearly he’s up to the challenge.

Specifications

Engine: straight six
Capacity: 3781cc
Valves: dohc
Compression ratio: 9.0:1
Max power: 186kW (250bhp)
Max torque: 352Nm (260lb/ft) @ 4000rpm
Transmission: four speed all synchromesh manual
Body: steel with aluminium bonnet, boot, doors; period race screens
Suspension: Front: independent torsion bar with telescopic shockers; Rear: rigid with leaf springs and Armstrong lever shockers
Brakes: disc
Wheels: 15-inch, 72-spoke wire wheels
Tyres: 185-15 Avon radials

DIMENSIONS

Overall Length: 4394mm (14ft 5ins)
Width: 1575mm (5ft 2ins)
Height: 1117mm (3ft 8ins)
Wheelbase: 2591mm (8ft 6ins)
Front track: 1300mm (4ft 3ins)
Rear track: 1270mm (4ft 2ins)
Dry weight: 1270kg (1ton 5cwt)

PERFORMANCE

0-100kph: 7.2 sec
0-60kph: 7.2 sec
Max speed: 7.1 sec
Fuel economy: 14.1l/100km (20mpg)

Words: Mark Wright
Photos: Jared Clark

It was the beginning of the swinging ‘60s. Hemlines were going up, Britain’s war debt was going down and car manufacturers were getting down to the job of designing sports cars to appeal to the pop culture generation. Mark Wright looks at the contrasting approach of two neighbouring British car manufacturers.

Coming off a decade that included five wins at Le Mans and the launch of the Mk2 compact saloons, Jaguar’s fortunes were on the rise. By comparison, Daimler, one of Britain’s oldest car makers, was struggling. Its range of saloons, while still great cars, were looking dated and falling sales were making parent company BSA nervous.

However, both makes launched new sport cars during this era — the Daimler SP250 ‘Dart’ in 1959 and the Jaguar E-type in 1961.
They were cars of contrasts — the Jaguar, with its universally admired groundbreaking styling, all-independent suspension, still used that old traditional British big straight-six.

The Daimler, however, still harked back to the ‘50s-style of British sports car with its separate chassis, but pointed to the future with its compact, lightweight V8 and controversially-styled fibreglass body. At the time no one could foresee that the contrasting directions of these two cars would see them on a collision course that would end in the Jaguar company’s board room.

A new departure for Daimler

There is little doubt that the SP250 was a sharp change in direction for a company that built its reputation on supplying luxury limousines and saloons to the rich and royal.

Motor magazine put it succinctly in the lead-up to the Earls Court Motor Show saying that “particular interest on the Daimler stand will centre on the new SP250 sports model — a new departure for Daimler.”

There had already been a subtle shift in Daimler’s focus post-World War Two with the introduction of the Conquest in 1953 — a saloon built to appeal to the family buyer — albeit the well-heeled one. It was producing a beautiful range of mainly Barker-bodied drophead coupes, and introduced the Conquest Roadster/New Drophead Coupe the same year as the saloon but this was still very much a saloon-based car and not the all out sports car the company was soon to produce.

Turner around

By the time World War Two was disappearing over one horizon and the ‘60s were showing on the other, Daimler was in financial trouble. Initially Edward Turner, hea d of BSA’s Automotive Division, was asked to design a V8 saloon — given the factory code DN 250 — rather than a V8 sports car. Turner favoured a 90-degree V8 and was keen on the simplicity and lower cost of a single camshaft pushrod configuration, basing his design on that of the Cadillac V8. He also drew on his motorcycle design background — and his highly successful Triumph Speed Twin motorcycle engine, known for its advanced and efficient hemispherical combustion chambers — and put that knowledge into a new 2.5-litre V8.

Turner produced a small, smooth, torquey engine capable of revving over 6000rpm, turning out 140bhp (104kW) at 5800rpm. The new engine was ready, but the proposed high-volume saloon — the DN250 — had stalled. Turner considered a sports car and in late 1957 one of his V8s was mated to an Austin-Healey four-speed gearbox and installed in a Daimler-built chassis heavily based on the Triumph TR2.

Percy McNally, General Manager of Carbodies (a BSA subsidiary) — who had styled the Austin FX4 taxicab — was briefed to design the car for a steel production body. However, it would have cost Daimler around $120,000, to tool up for in steel and in order to save money, Daimler used McNally’s fibreglass experience to produce a plastic-bodied car. This move cut the investment in body manufacture down to a mere $16,000.

Two prototypes of the new sports car; one metalbodied, the other fibreglass, were tested extensively while a third prototype, effectively the first production car, was put in the hands of a few trusted journalists in 1959. They liked the four-wheel disc brakes and found the handling good, except on rough roads. But they absolutely loved the little V8, commenting on its smooth, free-revving nature and excellent flexibility. Their main complaints centred around scuttle shake and the weight of the steering.

Enter Jaguar

Daimler’s survival hung on the success of the SP250. Unfortunately it didn’t sell anywhere near enough, particularly in the lucrative US market. Daimler’s feasibility study put the case for 1000 cars in the first year and 2000 in the second, but it was soon obvious that, for a number of reasons, actual sales were not getting anywhere near those figures.

By now, Birmingham Small Arms (BSA) were finding that Coventry’s Daimler factory was simply a drain on its resources, so when its near neighbour, Jaguar, made a bid mid-way through June 1960, BSA was happy to pocket the cheque. Jaguar engineers and test drivers were less than impressed with the SP250’s dynamics and soon introduced a B-spec version with a strengthened chassis to counter scuttle shake.

They added a reinforced hoop around the bulkhead, longitudinal chassis outriggers and steel B-post strengthening. Introduced one at a time and retrofitted on some earlier cars, these new additions became become official with the April 1961 launch of the B-specification SP250 — which also included the standard fitment of front and rear bumpers, adjustable steering column, uprated rear axle and a trim upgrade. An optional automatic transmission was introduced in February 1961 — before that this option had only been available on export models or on the black Darts that were used by the Metropolitan Police, who bought a fl eet of SP250s which they used to chase speeding ‘cafe racers’ as well as celebrities and, so it is said, Royalty. (Interestingly, several of these special Police-spec SP250s were exported to New Zealand.) Finally, in April 1963, the final ‘C’ Dart was introduced with a cigar lighter, heater and tricklecharger socket as standard.

By that time, Jaguar was seriously considering the SP250’s future. It took 65 people to turn out 56 Etypes a month but that same number of workers would only be able to produce 39 SP250s. Jaguar went as far as developing a prototype SP252, with more conservative styling, but it was going to cost more than the E-type to produce and barely provide any profit. By the time the plug was pulled on the SP250 in September 1964, 1453 RHD cars had been built, along with 1201 LHD, giving a total of just 2654, making them a relatively rare machine. Turner’s V8, however, remained in production until 1969, finally finding its way into a Jaguar Mk2 body as a Daimler V8-250.

In the flesh

Looking at the eye-catching red 1960 SP250 of Robin Thomas there is little doubt these cars were styled with the lucrative American market in mind. Robin had been looking around for a Dart and when he mentioned it while talking cars with his brother-in-law in Timaru, the latter remarked about a very nice one belonging to a neighbour. “I said ‘No, there’s none in Timaru”. I thought I knew where they were all located.” A few minutes later they were in the garage of Timaru enthusiast Morgan Long looking at a gleaming red Dart. It had been in a fire before Morgan bought it and he had carried out a superb nut-and-bolt restoration. Robin kept in contact and occasionally got to drive the car when passing through Timaru. Eventually Morgan decided to sell and the car went with Robin to Dunedin.

“It’s a 16 year-old restoration but you wouldn’t know it,” he says. “Morgan did an exceedingly good job on it and I was lucky to get it in that sort of condition.”

Robin recently completed nearly 1500 miles doing the South Island section of the SP250 Top to Toe Tour and the Daimler didn’t miss a beat, returning 29.3 mpg. There is no overdrive, so the engine turns over at a bit below 3000rpm at 60mph, but cruises effortlessly with plenty in reserve.

“What attracted me to them was the engine,” remarks Robin. “They’re smooth, they’re powerful, beautifully balanced and they have a very distinctive note.”

Not surprisingly, Robin says he has no trouble keeping up with modern traffic. The car sits really well on the road and the four-wheel discs do their job very well. It can get a little unsettled on rough corners and kick the tail out if you get too enthusiastic, but Robin says it can be controlled on the throttle. The engine is light and set back in the chassis, giving very good weight distribution.

His car has had the B-spec modifications done to increase rigidity and the one non-original item is rack-and-pinion steering from a Triumph of that era, a common mod made by SP250 enthusiasts. It always attracts attention at car events or on the road. “They are decidedly quirky and distinctive in their styling,”

Robin says. For a traditional old manufacturer in real trouble, the SP250 was a brave step — and you’ve got to be glad they took it. The Daimler is one of those cars that brings a smile to your face when you see one, especially when it’s in this sort of condition.

Jaguar’s new sensation

As soon as the covers were lifted on the E-type at the Geneva Motor Show it was clear Jaguar had set a new direction for sports car building. Its sensual lines owed a lot to the work of aerodynamicist Malcolm Sayer who had penned the Le Mans winning D-type. Gone was the old separate chassis and body approach of the XK range, replaced by monocoque construction and a new independent rear suspension system, which was later introduced to its MkX and XJ saloons. It was a car for a new decade, but it wasn’t all-new. Jaguar stuck with its highly successful XK twincam six, used throughout its range, this time in one of it’s sweetest guises — 3.8-litres with triple SU carburetors providing a 265bhp (197kW) and a claimed top speed nearing 150mph (241kpg).

Big sixes had long been the mainstay of British sports cars and in many ways accommodating that was what gave the E-type its long bonnet that harked back to the elegant SS cars of the ‘30s. The press raved about the E-type’s looks and the level of performance it offered for the sort of money Jaguar was asking. They were willing to forgive its weaknesses, which included barely adequate braking, despite discs all round, and its antiquated Moss gearbox — which dated back to the XK120 — which was considered too slow to use for such a potent car.

Bewitching

Long time Jaguar enthusiast Alistair Stevenson has always been fond of the looks of Jaguar’s original E-types. Indeed, his example is one of the earliest, often referred to as the ‘bonnet catch’ model, because of the two little locks on either side of the bonnet that are operated by a ‘T’ key.

Only 500 of these cars were made between March and September 1961 before Jaguar fitted concealed locks, operated from inside the car. For train spotters, it is also worth noting that these cars were part of another subset of E-types called ‘fl at-fl oor’. About 2600 of these were made until customer complaints about a lack of foot room saw Jaguar build small wells into the fl oor to give more room.

Alistair’s particular car is number 131 of 385 LHD ‘bonnet catch’ convertibles built in June 1961 and originally delivered to New York. Fortunately, this Jaguar much of its life in California and was sniffed out by Queenstown car-buyer Lex Emslie, who has sourced many cars from overseas.

“He was very clever at doing his homework and knowing what he was buying,” says Alistair. “I don’t think the seller realised it was such an old one.”

It has some interesting ownership history too. Apparently, it was owned by Elizabeth Montgomery who starred in the classic ‘60’s sitcom Bewitched, although Alistair says he can’t verify this. When Alistair took delivery of the car at his property in Ettrick in Central Otago in March 1993 it arrived as a body tub and a whole lot of cardboard boxes of parts stripped off it by the previous owner. “I think he just became overwhelmed by the enormity of the task,” says Alistair. “You do have to be half mad to complete the job, otherwise you would just walk away.” Fortunately, for Alistair, the tub was near perfect with no rust, and although the rest was in pieces there was remarkably little missing. He set about putting it all back together again, describing it as being “just like a big Meccano set”.

Alistair entrusted E-type expert Ray Larsen with the bonnet because it is so important to get right, but tackled most of the other work himself.

“The engine had already been reconditioned very well going by the way it runs,” says Alistair. That left him to concentrate on sorting out the gearbox, suspension and other mechanical parts, as well as converting it from LHD to RHD. The interior was done using a trim kit that came with the car and Alistair sourced a new hood from England, which fits very well.

Alistair had the car up and running, although uncompleted, after about five years and eventually got it to the point where he could register it in 2002. The only change since has been to go from a 3.30 to a 2.88 differential — which gives it much longer legs. This is useful because E-types never came with an overdrive. “It is now much quieter and seems a great deal less fussy,” he says.

The experience certainly hasn’t put him off. In fact, Alistair has now given up apple growing to become a EDWARD TURNER Edward Turner joined the ranks of motorcycle manufacturer Ariel in 1927 at the age of 26 and was quickly involved in the development of the famous Ariel Square Four. Turner soon rose through the ranks to become Chief Designer in 1932 and when the company bought Triumph in 1936 he was put in charge.

He quickly swung around the fortunes of the company, producing some notable motorcycles including the Speed Twin, which arrived on the scene in 1937.

Its vertical-twin engine provided the basis for Triumph units for decades to come and knowledge gleaned from its development found its way into Daimler’s SP250 V8.

When BSA bought Triumph in 1951 Turner was appointed Managing Director of Automotive Division, which looked after the motorcycle side of the business and, of course, Daimler.

After Jaguar’s takeover in 1960 Turner was often called upon as a consultant, but according to Brian Long’s book Daimler V8 SP250, he and Jaguar founder Sir William Lyons did not enjoy a good working relationship.

Turner eventually retired in 1964. By that stage the fate of the SP250 was long since sealed, although his V8 masterpiece still lived on in Daimler’s Jaguar-bodied V8 saloon. professional car restorer. When you visit his workshop you never know whether you’ll find him working on — maybe a Fergusson tractor or something like an Iso Rivolta. Certainly, the standard of work on the E-type, which placed well in the last NZCC/Meguiar’s Restoration of the Year Award says a lot about his abilities.

Neighbourly rivalry

Driving these two sports cars back to back was an interesting experience. While the E-type undoubtedly looks the more modern of the two cars, both have a distinctly old-fashioned feel when driven on the road. For the Jaguar, this mostly stems from the Moss gearbox — which does not like to be hurried through its gears — and its heavy steering. Interestingly, the SP250 displays almost the same problems; it’s four-speed gearbox — a Daimler-produced copy of the Triumph TR2 ‘box — is as slow and ponderous as the Moss ‘box and care needs to be taken when using its fragile first gear. The SP250’s steering is also less than perfect but, like the Jaguar’s, only becomes a real handful around town.

Having said that, the E-type still feels as if a whole generation separates it from the SP250 — an advantage gained from Jaguar using stiffer, semi-monocoque body construction as opposed to the Daimler’s traditional separate chassis. Combined an independent rear-end, this allows the Jaguar to consistently out-handle the Daimler. Not that the SP250 is a bad handler, its a lot less happier over broken, undulating roads, but very rewarding to drive fast — if you like tail-out cornering.

The Jaguar absolutely wins the day in terms of exterior styling with a body design that is universally recognized as being one of the most beautiful. By contrast, the SP250’s styling is less cohesive — but it’s certainly as dramatic, in a different way, as the E-type. The Jaguar also has the edge when it comes to cabin design, with its interior setting standards that the more traditional Daimler cannot match. However, the SP250’s driving position is rather better than the cramped E-type.

There is little doubt that both these cars feature a classic power train. The Jaguar’s twin-cam six certainly has the edge in sophistication — and, once extended, its really does snarl like a big cat. But the Turner-designed Daimler V8 is an absolute jewel of an engine — and sounds lovely as well.

This all makes a final decision extremely difficult. The E-type — an absolute motoring icon — would be hard to rule out of the equation, but the SP250 — such an individual-looking sports car — has a charm all its own. During their production runs, both these cars ended up being close neighbours. I’d like an example of both in my home garage — the E-type for its gorgeous looks, the SP250 for its gorgeous engine.

EDWARD TURNER

Edward Turner joined the ranks of motorcycle manufacturer Ariel in 1927 at the age of 26 and was quickly involved in the development of the famous Ariel Square Four. Turner soon rose through the ranks to become Chief Designer in 1932 and when the company bought Triumph in 1936 he was put in charge.

He quickly swung around the fortunes of the company, producing some notable motorcycles including the Speed Twin, which arrived on the scene in 1937. Its vertical-twin engine provided the basis for Triumph units for decades to come and knowledge gleaned from its development found its way into Daimler’s SP250 V8.

When BSA bought Triumph in 1951 Turner was appointed Managing Director of Automotive Division, which looked after the motorcycle side of the business and, of course, Daimler.

After Jaguar’s takeover in 1960 Turner was often called upon as a consultant, but according to Brian Long’s book Daimler V8 SP250, he and Jaguar founder Sir William Lyons did not enjoy a good working relationship. Turner eventually retired in 1964. By that stage the fate of the SP250 was long since sealed, although his V8 masterpiece still lived on in Daimler’s Jaguar-bodied V8 saloon.

1960 DAIMLER SP250

Engine: 90-degree V8
Capacity: 2547cc
Bore/stroke: 3-inch x 2.75-inch
Valves pushrod ohv
Compression 8.2:1
Max power 140bhp (104kW) @ 5800rpm
Max torque 155lb/ft (210Nm) @ 3,600rpm
Fuel system twin SU
Transmission Triumph-derived four-speed, manual
Brakes disc/disc
Suspension Front independent coil, rear; half elliptics
Rear axle hypoid bevel
Steering cam and lever
Tyres 5.50 x 15
Ratio 3.58:1

DIMENSIONS

Width 1667mm
Height 1288mm
Overall Length 4115mm
Wheelbase 2359mm
Weight 1070kg
Track F/R 1282/1231mm

PERFORMANCE

Max speed 120mph (195kph)
0-60mph 9.7 seconds
1/4 mile 17.2 seconds
Economy 32.8mpg

1961 E-TYPE ROADSTER

Engine in-line six
Capacity 3781cc
Bore/stroke 87mm x 106mm
Valves dohc
Compression 9:1
Max power 265bhp (198kW) @ 5400rpm
Max torque 283lb/ft (383Nm) @ 4000rpm
Fuel system triple SU
Transmission four-speed manual
Brakes disc/disc
Suspension Front independent by wishbones and torsion bars Rear independent with dual coils
Rear axle Salisbury hypoid with Powr-Lok LSD
Steering rack and pinion
Tyres 6.40×15 Dunlop RS5

DIMENSIONS

Width 1641mm
Height 1205mm
Overall Length 4500mm
Wheelbase 2462mm
Weight 1219kg
Track F/R 1282/1282mm

PERFORMANCE

Max speed 149mph (240kph)
0-60mph 7.1 seconds
1/4 mile 15 seconds
Economy 20mpg