The Jaguar X308 - Sapphire Blue Streak
Grand Journeys I & II
The Himalayan Spark & The Montreal Trial
The affliction of the human condition that draws us to automobiles usually begins with a spark—a story of a cross-country rally or a father sharing a mechanical secret. For me, it was both.
I don’t remember a time when cars weren’t a part of my life, a condition made permanent by a father who spent nigh on 50 years as an automobile engineer, sharing his real and robust passion. He has always maintained that he got to do what he loved. Sadly, most, including me, are unlikely to be able to say that about our careers. I was about 9 years old when my father took me to a car event in New Delhi in 1989. This was the original Himalayan Rally (1980-90); that year, Delhi was the starting line, as it was for most of that decade.
My father was one of those who had prepped a car for the rally. At the flag off for the event, as one might imagine India’s foremost car aficionados were present. There was a bubbling enthusiasm on a wintry day in Delhi with people in warmer clothes than usual and right after Diwali it was quite the treat for me. But there was something else that I saw that day that laid to rest any chance of me ever being anything other than a hopeless car romantic.
Amongst some of the fanciest cars you could see in the India of the 80s was one odd presence. A regal car that looked out of time amongst the flatter, sharper edged long body designs. This one was smooth, curved and had a look of majesty. It had four headlights in the front in an odd symmetry and it was an open-top car. The lines, the smoothness - everything was otherworldly in that environment. My father who had been watching me merely said, “It’s the Jaguar”. I would learn decades later that I had seen an exceedingly rare XK120. From that moment on, I always knew that I must possess one; it was simply burned into my soul.
Time passes swiftly as all those around us will confirm; my life took me across continents to the Middle East, then Europe and then eventually the United States. I was a 40 something finance guy who had made all the reasonable choices and had been thoroughly Americanized in thought and function. The dream of possessing an iconic Jaguar had receded into memory lane. I was busy now with other matters of importance. That said, those of us who were born in a different time and still have that old world connection rarely lose it.
Somewhere in March 2025, having just moved with my wife to South Florida, I was looking for something on Facebook Marketplace when I accidentally stumbled into the automotive section. Right on the first page four headlights set in the most striking Sapphire blue I had ever seen stared back at me. The years simply unraveled in an instant. It was beautiful in the sparkling Florida sun in the pictures. I had to open the advertisement and I immediately saw two things, a scar on the left-hand side of the front bumper just below the headlight and the fact that the car only had thirty-six thousand miles on the clock! That scar was the most roguishly charming thing you could see, that imperfection made it all the more attractive to me. I was simply captivated and confused. I was once again that boy in 1989, but this time I could do something about my feelings and that forgotten desire buried by life. This rogue was my counterpart and had waited for me for decades.
Although the romantic in me was quite awake at this point, I was still unsure of a lot of things. A 23-year-old Jaguar in that good a condition with just thirty-six thousand miles on it? This sounded too good to be true particularly in South Florida known for the next big scam one could stumble into. And the Jaguars are also notoriously temperamental cars that required a mental investment that went beyond ownership. To own a Jaguar, you also had to be a bit of an engineer, you had to understand the eccentricities of British engineering and above all willing to listen to the car and open your wallet generously. The adult in me was pretty clear that this sounded like a bad idea with time and money I shouldn’t be profligate with.
I did what I usually do in situations like this, let things sit for a while so that passions cool and there is a chance for natural resolution to the tension. Boy, was I wrong, absolutely nothing changed. I kept checking the advertisement every day until one day it disappeared. I was deeply upset and thought that was the end of the dream and at once I also felt guilty. I searched on Marketplace again for XJ8s and my old friend at this point was back there, the owner had simply relisted the car for a slightly lower price. Five plus weeks had passed and I decided it was time to pull the trigger. I called the owner, saw the car, realized the neglect in terms of maintenance and more importantly to the soul of this legend. I had the car inspected mainly for rusting and sent the video and the details to my father for his validation. The message was terse, “car is fine, no major concerns, you will never get more car for this little money.” That’s it, I now owned that X308, six weeks after I first saw it!
Parts of a vehicle atrophying is a very real phenomenon, no matter how little it has been used. The X308 that I had just purchased was no exception to this reality. Going into this, I knew two major liabilities that required immediate attention, the car’s suspension bushings front and rear were shot and then the legendary plastic timing chain tensioner covers issue. Considering this was a 2002 model, the timing chain issue could go either way depending on the month of production I was told but it was still a labor-intensive job to check. At this moment, I lucked out and found a local mechanic who had a Jaguar specialized shop with 30 years behind it (you can’t imagine how rare this is in South Florida). Together we set out to restore the mechanical side of the car. The aesthetics I really wasn’t going to touch, it was already beautiful with that low slung cigar shape. The scar I was going to leave as it were, The Japanese have an art form called “Kintsugi” – restoration of pottery without an attempt to hide the age or blemishes. That was my NorthStar too.
Over the next few months, we replaced the plastic tensioner covers, rebuilt the suspension, replaced the entire brake system and all the fluids. We also checked out the spark plugs, ignition coils, coolant system, rubber hoses and things that usually atrophy to make sure they all worked. After all that, my first high speed drive to Miami yielded an immediate “check engine” light, back to the shop and the Mass Airflow (MAF) sensor needed to be replaced. The effect of just doing short urban drives for 20+ years. All things considered, I was now in for more than what I had paid for the car. It was necessary for my plans.
I knew from the beginning the only way to validate the car as the real McCoy was to fulfill its purpose of a grand tour. My wife and I had always wanted to go to Montreal, our anniversary was coming up in the fall and this seemed like the perfect time. Doubts lingered, so we hedged: she would fly to Connecticut and then join me for the final leg to Montreal. I set out from South Florida, aiming for Montreal via the Northeast. I knew I was looking at significant variations in geography and climate, starting from the humidity of the south to the steadily cooler and crisper climes of the north.
I pulled over at a Shell gas station just after Jacksonville for a refill of V-Power, turned the ignition and my old friend, the check engine light, was back. My heart simply sank; we had barely done 300 miles or 10% of the trip. I told myself I was a romantic fool who had not only wasted time and money but also a nice anniversary getaway with this nonsense. I sat there in the humidity of the gas station, absolutely crushed, weighing my options, retreat or ……About ten minutes later, I figured let’s turn the ignition on and see how the car sounds and give it a couple of revs. It all sounded perfectly fine. I told myself, let’s drive a few miles and see how it goes, I am already in 300 miles. So, I set out and kept going and I was in Florence, SC that night – I had traveled over 600 miles of the 1,300-mile leg to Connecticut. The car kept me on a tight leash on the lower end of the acceleration curve but gave me comfortable cruising speed once past 50 and allowed me to maintain a comfortable 80mph.
The next morning in surprising cold conditions, I prayed that the car would start and turned on the ignition and it fired up promptly. I took the car to a local mechanic who scanned the car and told me there was a relay in the O2 sensor that was malfunctioning, but he reckoned I could get the car safely to Connecticut without destroying the catalytic converter as long as I knew how to drive. I smiled to myself thinking that I do know bubba, my dad taught me how to drive.
I developed a rhythmic tapping of the accelerator and brakes to negotiate the ZF transmission into the gears I demanded, release the accelerator and tap again to move quickly up to the 5th gear and using gentle taps of the brake to bring it down. So, I would achieve cruising velocity gears quickly and just stay there as long as I could letting the car float like a butterfly. Not only did I get it up to Connecticut but also to Montreal and back (I was in CT too short a period of time to fix the O2 sensor there and by then the car had adapted). We had a grand trip through the fall foliage of Vermont, New Hampshire and into Quebec. The X308 drew a lot of attention in the Old Town Montreal (something it rarely does in the US) and then I made my way back to Florida just as planned. I also realized during the trip that the car’s EVAP canisters were likely shot because it would never let me fill up to the tank capacity of 23.1 gallons.
Nevertheless, my old friend didn’t falter or let me down, even under these conditions. We maintained 20 mpg (US gallons) and it was still an incredibly quick car. I knew we were now bonded and I also knew that this was just the beginning. As they say, big things have small beginnings. My mind at this stage was already turning to the mechanical prep I needed to do to fulfill what I had in mind. These cars were built to go on grand tours and we had just proved it over 3,200 miles (CEL on for 2,900 of those). I had made the right decision after all; my dad was right. My mind was already preparing the blueprint for the next phase that was to come very soon.