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The finest pair of flying buttresses this side of... well, anything
And against this thrilling tapestry of terminal velocity, one figure stood out. Sandwiched impossibly in the rarefied air between the mighty German range toppers and the mythical Italian supercars, it became indelibly imprinted into my memory, until this very day: 153mph.
For that was the top speed of the V12, 5.3-litre Jaguar XJ-S. Here was a British car that soared above its competition, up in the stratosphere occupied by Ferraris, Lamborghinis and Maseratis. To a six-year-old’s eye the design of the thing simply burst out of the page. Low, wide and sleek, a shape you couldn’t mistake for anything else. And what about the oval headlights that identified as hexagonal? Or the buttresses, the glorious sweep of which set off the angular design of the rest of the body.
The only other car with buttresses to burn was the Ferrari Berlinetta Boxer. But in this fifth dimension of space and time, where the only shapes possible are solid C-pillar extensions, it’s the Jaguar that reigns supreme, while the Ferrari is reduced to General Zod status – banished forever in the flat space mirror, spinning away into two dimensional obscurity. For the Boxer’s design, beautiful as it is, disappears the buttress into the profile of the vehicle, whereas on the XJ-S, these visibility murdering contours stick out like Superman’s solitary curl. You simply cannot imagine the Jag without them.
Not just that, but in the mid 1980s, you’d actually get to see this automotive superhero out there in the wild. The XJ-S had been selling like hot cakes for a decade already, and you didn’t even have to visit Stringfellows to see a line of them parked up. Sainsbury’s would do. Chances of seeing a 365 or 512 Boxer on the A34, or round the back of Tesco? Practically zero.
There are so many reasons to lust after Jaguar’s most daring model for half a century. But perhaps they can be all reduced down to one simple question: can you find a V12 GT car for less? And on those terms, as well as the absolute necessity that is a ton and a half top speed, the 4-litre straight-six is out, despite being available with the five-speed manual gearbox (sorry, Chris Harris).
You’re left with 21 years of V12 XJ-S production to choose from (although technically the hyphen only lasted for 16 of those). Which to go for? You’d only choose an early (pre H.E.) car if you loved grisly 1970s colours or fancied unicorn hunting for the four-speed manual. The later models, convertibles and anything with a spoiler (the 6-litre, the XJR-S, anything TWR) look wrong.
The 'High Efficiency' engine could manage 20mpg if you were careful
So that leaves you pondering an H.E. coupé from the middle 10 years of production (1981-1991). If you’re wondering it stood for ‘High Efficiency’, and referred to new ‘Fireball’ cylinder heads designed by Swiss former racing driver Michael May, which allowed the car to run an exceptionally lean fuel to air mixture combined with an uncommonly high compression ratio, yielding a little more power and a vast, much needed improvement in fuel consumption. Some of the more daintily footed owners even claimed to see 20mpg…
Around 15,000 of these were made in RHD, so you can afford to be picky. For a long time you could get decent runners for three or four grand. These days that would merely knit you a basket case. Instead spend between £10,000 and £15,000 on a pampered enthusiast’s car, and revel in having bought the cheapest V12 coupé money can buy. What’s more, find a pre-’85 car and you’ll be ULEZ-tastic, have no MOT or road tax and sub £200 classic insurance.
And before you throw BMW E31 850i or Mercedes R129 SL600 shaped hats into the ring, the Jaguar wins any Man Maths comparison against this duo, on account of the financial Russian Roulette their insane electronic complexity will make you play. Whereas no doubt the Jaguar has at least one chamber loaded, the Germans have three or more. And how many extra miles an hour do those two additional bullets aimed for your bank balance buy for you? Just the two.
So I’ll be happy with my 153mph, thank you very much. Six-year-old me certainly was. And isn’t that who Man Maths is really in service of anyway?
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