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I get to grips with a 50 year old icon!
Ben Eddols goes out with an E Type
Some of us, not in the first flush of youth, bordering on the’
old’ even, carry vivid childhood memories which can provoke
forbidden thought’s, nudge nudge, wink wink - totally
unacceptable in PC Britain today. Ask an old ‘un about the 1960’s
and their eyes may glaze over as memories slowly fall into place
– Twiggy, mini skirts, Marilyn Monroe, and the E type Jag.
Ok, image s from a seemingly male dominated world, pure
voyeurism, sultry, curvaceous, fast and dangerous, beyond the
reach of the common man - until with the benefit of age an
opportunity comes along, not to meet the star or relive the
age, but to get to grips with an E type!
Jaguar made their mark on the racing world in the fifties with C
Type and D type racers winning the legendary Le Mans 24 hour
race. The cars employed three important elements, their proven
six cylinder XK engine, an aerodynamic body to help slip through
the air and disc brakes to stop. As the fifties came to an end all of
this was suddenly combined in a road going sports car, the E
Type, which could charge up the newly built M1 at a reported
150mph, unthinkable stuff at the time. Car restorer John
Hodgson has recently acquired one and allowed me to drive it.
We meet up on a sunny day. I open the driver’s door to step in - remember we
are now going back to a car designed 55 years ago - the door opens wide and is
hinged quite far forward giving surprisingly good access for legs and feet, unless
you are in a mini skirt, I wasn’t this time! Once in the comfy leather bucket seat I
took stock; two big dials in front, the familiar Smiths speedo and rev counter
then, in aircraft style, a row of smaller gauges and switches stretching out to the
left over the tunnel where the gear lever and handbrake protrude.
The steering wheel is big, with a thin wooden rim and three alloy spokes. I think
to myself that as there is no power steering I will be struggling with this and
constantly jiggling it to keep the car straight. I reach for the seatbelt - Oh! It’s not
there, this is an early 1965 car made before seatbelts became compulsory -
without it I suddenly feel quite vulnerable. I turn the key, press the black starter
button and without drama, it lives.
The engine itself is a thing of beauty, two shiny alloy cam covers sitting atop the
engine, three carburettors feeding fuel and air from one side, six chromed
exhaust pipes existing from the other.
Ok, I push the clutch pedal down and slip the notchy lever up into first, hand
brake off, a bit of throttle, foot slowly off the clutch and we move, no drama,
stop, turn left onto the road and start to take stock again.
As I have said, the seat is comfortable but it doesn’t have the sideways support
found in modern cars; controls are fine; she drives well over the rough roads
thanks to higher profile tyres ironing out the imperfections; the steering,
although heavy at parking speeds, is surprisingly light and precise when out on
the open road - and of course the view down that never ending louvered bonnet
is fantastic.
4.2 litres in a slippery old sports car feels great, it has loads of low down grunt
and John urges me on. As the revs rise the warble of six cylinders sets the senses
tingling. The speedo rises dramatically, the front end rising under acceleration; at
first I feed her into corners then ease the power on as we exit, accelerating
gingerly out; the steering is much more precise than I had imagined it would be
and with only four gears to choose from I get much more robust with the old car,
the roads are dry and there’s little chance of a calamity unless I am really stupid.
We trundle back to base with an inner glow. She’s not bad for a 50 year old icon!
©BenEddols.05.2015
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