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Do You Believe?
The Cat Came Back!!! (Part 7) Paul Novak The Cat Came Back!!
My 1957 MK VIII last saw the road under its own power in 1975 when the prior owner parked the car for repairs and a restoration that never happened. It sat protected in the garage of a Rancho Bernardo home for 30 years. I acquired this large Jaguar saloon in March 2005 and had it towed back to my place in Ramona where I am awakening it from a 30 year sleep. This “Big Cat” took up residence in our horse barn for three years where I worked on it. I stripped the exterior of all lights, chrome trim and windshields; stripped the interior of all wood, leather seats, carpeting headliner and trim; removed everything from the engine bay including the engine and transmission; and removed the entire fuel delivery and exhaust systems. In May 2008 what remained of the car was loaded up on another tow truck for a trip to “A Perfect Fix Collision Center” in Escondido where body was carefully repaired and then repainted. I am pleased to say it was loaded up on another tow truck on Saturday 6 June and came home to Ramona and into my new garage for the remainder of it’s restoration and return to road. All the pictures of my MK VIII in this Jaguar Tracks were taken in my new garage.
Most MK VIIIs were painted two-tone and mine is no exception. Although it was originally Mist Grey and Cornish Grey, I decided on another color combination. The car was repainted in Pearl Grey and Old English White which were authentic Jaguar colors for those years. The metal throughout the car was in very sound condition and with the exception of the engine bay area near the battery and the trunk floor there really wasn’t any serious rust. The engine bay and trunk were sand blasted and repainted, and all of the exterior dents were repaired and body panels aligned. The two replacement doors on the left side of the car are indistinguishable from the original doors on the right side.
I have no idea how long it will take me to put this puzzle back together again, return it safely to the road and get it ready to compete in future JCNA concours competition. So look to future issues of Jaguar Tracks for updates on “The Cat Came Back” and then see this beautiful car yourself some day at a future San Diego Jaguar Club event.
Dear Fellow Jaguar Enthusiasts, As some of you in the San Diego Jaguar Club already know, I am the proud owner of two new (well, previously owned) XK8s. But none of you know why I got two in a two-week period and what I had to go through to get them. If you’re interested, I wrote a little story about it. I call it “Stick Holmes’ Big Adventure.” Stick Holmes' Big Adventure It all started with a dream. My dream told me to buy a new car. It told me that since I only had two and a half years left to go to retirement, I should do everything I could to make my commute to work more enjoyable. My once a week commutes to Los Angeles used to be fun when I drove my 1990 XJS convertible, but then our own Glen Simpson of the San Diego Jaguar Club ruined it for me by suggesting I show the car at our Concours d’Elegance. I took first place that year in the Champion class. That was 1999. Since that time, I naturally felt uneasy driving a champion automobile to work, so I purchased a “commuter car” and stuck the Jaguar in the back corner of the garage and covered it. The previously mentioned dream made me realize that I really missed driving the Jaguar, so the following week when I stepped out of the Pro Shop at the Mount Woodson Golf Club into the parking lot and espied an absolutely beautiful black XK8 Coupe, I was doomed from the beginning. I had never seen an XK8 coupe before. I felt like Mr. Toad when he saw his first automobile: I had to have one! I told my understanding and extraordinarily beautiful wife, Karen, that I was going to put all three of my cars up for sale; the commuter, the show XJS and a 2002 T Bird which I was also afraid to drive. I told her that my intention was to purchase an XK8 coupe and become a one car guy, and swore I would actually drive it as my everyday car! No shows! I remembered that my old buddy Ron had his automobile dealer’s license in the greater Dallas Fort Worth area where he lived among good people of high standards. He had told me if I ever needed a car he would locate one at a dealer’s auction. He said he could get it for “thousands” less that I could find retail. I called him, told him what I wanted and the game was on. But weeks later, he still could not find a coupe. Come to find out, coupes are as rare as an interesting certified public accountant. I was getting desperate. He finally called from his cell phone one Saturday morning to inform me he was at an auction standing by a 2001 XK8 convertible with only 21,000 miles. He said it was silver or charcoal or blue or something with a black convertible top. He said it was in pretty good shape but needed “my touch”. He wanted to know would I like it and how much was I willing to bid. Having given up on my hopes to find a coupe, I gave him a figure and thirty minutes later, I was the proud owner of an XK8 convertible for thousands less than I could find retail. Sight-unseen. It was two weeks of anguish before I could get enough time off to collect my new prize. I flew to Dallas. As it turns out, the car was a bank repossession and the previous owner did not value “the marque” as much as we do. Although the car had never been wrecked, it had numerous door dings and a large dimple on the boot lid as a result of someone too stupid placing something too large in the trunk and slamming the boot lid too hard. The two driver-side wheels sported deep scrapes from a “close encounter of the curb kind”. The electric mirrors did not work and the black convertible top appeared faded and grey. Two of the four side lights did not work and only half of the horn. The high pitch half. Toot toot. There was a thick layer of dust in the engine compartment and gravel wedged in the cracks between the exterior panels. The guy must have lived on a stagecoach line. The interior wasn’t quite as nice. The previous owner had obviously been a smoker. There were numerous cigarette burn holes in the floor mats and nicotine goo on everything. The sun visor on the passenger side would not stay up and the glove box door drooped at a funny angle. If you wanted to find an electric headrest that worked, you had to look somewhere else. How can anyone do that much damage to a car in 21,000 miles?! Other than that, I guess it was a pretty good car. (That’s like saying “Other than that Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?”) The color was great! It’s called “Titanium” which is silver or charcoal or blue or something, and it did have a brand new set of Bridgestone tires. And like Ron had said, there wasn’t anything on it that couldn’t be fixed or cleaned. I saw it as a challenge. A fixer-up. It should be fun. I installed my Magellan navigation system via suction cup to the inner windshield, programmed it to seek out a hotel in Midland, Texas, and was off on my big adventure. The first inkling that I may not enjoy smooth sailing on my voyage occurred three minutes later when I chanced upon a toll booth; a sight most unfamiliar to Californians. The cost was fifty cents. I, of course, had no change. As the polite but concerned traffic built up behind me, I noted a slot that accepted dollar bills. Eureka! I unstrapped and opened the door in spite of sign which read: DO NOT EXIT CAR! (Texans must have really long arms.) I quickly exited the car, shoved the dollar in the slot and returned. The toll booth light however, was still notably and stubbornly red. I waited until the Texan in the car behind me got ugly. What to do??!! Well, all things considered, I think I did what any honest forthright American would do; I ran it. I bolted. For those of you uninitiated in toll boothery, here’s what happens when you “Rabbit”: Toll booth lights flash, the siren wails, and a camera snaps a photo suitable for framing on the post office wall. Stick Holmes, a wanted man. In a repossessed car. The speed limit in Texas is a sweet 75 all-American miles per hour. This is good for a Jaguar owner or a fugitive from justice. Being both, I happily settled in with my cruise control set at 75 as the Magellan ticked off the miles to my first stop in Midland, Texas. I noticed something peculiar about Texas drivers. They drive the speed limit, don’t tailgate, signal their intention to turn and are extremely polite. What a concept! I also noticed an intermittent vibration at around 65 to 75 mph that was occasionally violent enough to crash the Magellan navigation system! Note to self: Balance tires. My night in Midland was thankfully uneventful. The Magellan found the hotel with little trouble. Being an outlaw, I naturally did not use my real name when I signed the register. I stowed my suitcase in my room and repaired to the saloon for a well earned redeye. As a bonus, I got written directions to the nearest name brand tire store from the bartender. The following morning I was up early to stay ahead of the long arm of the law. I had a “Texas Breakfast”. A “Texas Breakfast” I found out, consists of a sixteen ounce ribeye steak, a fifth of whiskey and a dog. The dog is there to eat the steak. Off I went with the bartender’s written directions and his reassuring words ringing in my ears, “You can’t miss it”. I missed it. I finally found the tire store but it wasn’t where I couldn’t have missed it. The tire store employee wore a Dwight Yokum t-shirt. His expert recommendation was to road force balance all four “tars”. The first balance made matters much worse. The second was a freebie and returned the car back to the way it was before. Fortunately for me, all this took only three hours and they only charged $100 ($25 a tar). With the first half of the day behind me, I programmed the Magellan for a hotel in Las Cruses, New Mexico and moseyed along. Having chosen to “ride the dark trail” as they say in Texas, I needed to get over the border pronto to get out of the jurisdiction of the Texas Rangers. They shoot first and ask questions later you know. So off I went, shimmying and vibrating, with only an occasional stop to purchase touristy Texas paraphernalia.
By the time I got to Las Cruses, New Mexico the Jaguar had accumulated an admirable collection of bugs from Texas, New Mexico and Old Mexico. Although I am normally reluctant to run a convertible through a carwash, I was ill equipped to remove a half inch of dried smashed bugs. I found a “no brush” carwash next to the hotel. This type carwash relied entirely on high pressure water and chemicals to do the cleaning. No machinery, wheels, brushes or rags actually touched the car. The upside was the high pressure nozzles blew the filth out of the convertible top returning it to a beautiful and new looking black. It turns out the faded grey was only three years of stagecoach dust. The downside was the high pressure liquid disregarded the convertible top’s rubber seals. Including me and the interior, it was a three towel event. That night, after drying off and pondering the extradition question, I had a New Mexico style dinner. The entre was, you guessed it, grilled steak with a collection of unidentifiable peppers. The hors d’oeuvre was armadillo. It tasted okay but you had to eat fast before the next car came. The following morning I drove the rest of the way to San Diego with a side trip to Tombstone, Arizona for fun. For those of you with nothing better to do than read boring statistics: 1,455 miles (including the side trip to Tombstone) One week later, I found a 2000 Anthracite coupe in Orange County. Anthracite is another Jaguar color. It’s light black or dark charcoal with little tiny metal flakes. I test drove it on my way to work the following day and bought it. I drove it home three days later on my way back from work. I’ll be darned if it didn’t have an intermittent vibration at around 65 to 70 mph. Is there a pattern here?
After some on-line research, I found that the problem may be in the tires. Since the coupe’s tires were well worn, I had the Discount Tire Store in my neighborhood replace the originals with Michelin Pilot Sports A/S’s. I think the A/S stands for “always smooth” ‘cause the ride at all speeds was excellent! Okay, it had a little airframe buffet at 120. Meanwhile, back at home, the first three cars sold in three weeks. The XJS, I’m happy to report, went to one of our own SDJC members, Bill Crawford. There was some discussion with the Department of Motor Vehicles regarding whether or not I was in the used car business but that is another adventure story. The rest of the story is happily mundane. Armed with my new knowledge regarding XK8 vibration, I also replaced the tires on the convertible with a new set of Michelins and swapped out the scraped wheels with the same style in chrome. In order to prepare it for sale, I got one of those dent specialists to take care of the dings. I fixed many of the minor mechanical problems and our old friend Cush Jaguar fixed everything else. It was still under warrantee. I then turned my attention to cleaning up the engine compartment and interior. When the dust settled, literally, that car was looking pretty good! Old Ron had a pretty good eye after all! So using the same superb logic I have always used when dealing in matters automobile, instead of selling it as I promised, I entered it in the Inland Empire Jaguar Club Concours d’Elegance, where I am happily able to report we took first place in the champion class. I’ll end this with a list of a few of the things I learned during my big adventure. There is no particular order:
Stick Holmes
Posted August 25, 2008
XJ 4 RJ I’ll never forget the time I first fell in love. I was about 12 or so and sleeping in on a lazy Saturday morning. I hadn’t a care in the world until I heard that truck. The rumbling of its large engine...the clanking and slamming of its rear cargo doors opening...the screeching of a hand cart in desperate need of some WD40. I stretched, rubbed my eyes, and crawled back under the covers. The clattering continued outside. It won. I stepped over to the window and slowly opened the shutters to see what was responsible for bringing a dismal end to a morning that had barely just begun. Bekins. I had forgotten that my wonderful next-door neighbors had to move to L.A. for their careers and were renting their home to a young couple. Bekins made sure I remembered, loud and clear! I scanned the goings-on through the slat in the shutters when a sparkle caught my eye. Chrome, and lots of it! When the moving men stepped out of the way, I saw my first love – a brand-new Jaguar sat in the driveway next door. I had never seen one, save a sad, old beater that a playmate’s father in my old neighborhood swore he’d fix “some day.” But there it was...long...low...sleek...pure art. Pure beauty. I had to meet the new neighbors!
“Hi, I’m Bobby!” “Nice to meet you, Bobby. I’m Ray and this is Marie.” “I LOVE your car! Can I look at it! “Sure thing!” They directed me over to what I learned was Marie’s car – a shiny new Mercedes 450SL convertible. “No no, not this car, that car!” Marie looked a little irked and Ray lit up. “That’s my new baby! Want to sit in the driver’s seat?” I have never smelled such a scent...that combination of leather, wood, and well, new Britishness! From that day forward, my dream was to own my very own “baby” one day, just like Ray. I had fleeting affairs with other Jaguars as I grew up. While vacationing in Hawaii, my friend, who walked to work in Waikiki each day, handed me and my friends the keys to his new 1999 XJ8, Platinum with Ivory leather–ours to drive all over Oahu for an entire week! Yes, there were great mai tais around. Priceless Hawaiian sunsets. Diamond Head framing the ultimate view from The Royal Hawaiian. But my mind was with my love...that amazing cat. I was more determined than ever: I will own a Jaguar one day. An XJ8 in Platinum with Ivory leather.
It’s funny what happens when we reach the age of 40, which I did in August of 2006. We celebrate; we say we don’t feel any older, that 40 ain’t so bad. But in the back of our minds, we focus not only on what we have achieved in four decades, but what we haven’t. The parties faded into the heat of summer and life continued on until I went to the auto show that December. There in front of me was the Jaguar section. Everything else disappeared. I decided it was time to get that “baby” I had dreamed of ever since that morning way back when. But it couldn’t be just any XJ8. I prefer the sleeker style of the 1998 - 2003 XJ8 over the new, bigger style. I also prefer the price! I searched the internet, I drove all over the Southland, and I nearly gave up. Then in February of 2007 I stopped into Bauer Jaguar in Orange County, nearly beaten by a day of disappointment. I told the dapper salesman that I would be in sheer heaven if I found a 2003 XJ8 Sovereign. None was on the lot. “Wait, wait,” he encouraged, looking over a list of inventory cars. “I think we have one that just came in yesterday. Would you like me to have it driven over for you to see?” “Sure,” I said, trying not to get my hopes up. As we waited, and waited, and w-a-i-t-e-d, he told me that the car had only about 9,000 miles on it because the owner rarely drives it. Seems she lives on Oahu and keeps a car here for her visits to the mainland. I had a hard time swallowing that. Then it arrived. Platinum. Ivory interior. Sovereign. Mint. The smell of new Britishness. “And guess what,” noted the salesman, popping his head into the car, “I lied. She only has 5,000 miles on her!” My dream has come true, thanks to Bekins, some new neighbors, and a magical place in Coventry, England. Just the other day I was buffing off a second coat of wax in the garage when I noticed that some of the young neighbor kids were playing in the street. I’d say they’re about 12 or so. As I continued to polish, admiring every curve of my baby, I heard one of them say quietly to the other, “When I get to be Bob’s age, I’ll have a Jaguar just like his.”
About the Author: Bob Celli is a new member of the SDJC. He is a writer specializing in creating unique copy for websites, marketing materials, advertising, brochures and more. This article was previously published in the Jaguar Tracks, Feburary 2008 by the same title and the Jaguar Journal March/April 2008 titled An XJ Love Affair. Photos are of the author's 2003 XJ8 Sovereign. |
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