I bought my 1963 Mk2 3.4 four years ago, preparing a justification in advance running along the lines of “classics don’t really lose money as long as they are well-maintained, so what I borrow from my pension pot today I can put back when I sell it”. The idea was to employ the car extensively on tours, something which has certainly happened, but the capricious phenomenon of fate has rather messed about with the timings. At one point I did begin to call the car ‘Murphy’ as an automotive embodiment of the law – if anything can go wrong it will go wrong. And it did…
I realised from the outset that I possessed little discernible aptitude for mechanics so sensibly searched for a solid, useable Mk2 with a cherished history. I heard of such a car that came with several recommendations from prominent members of a well-known Jaguar club. The ostensibly knowledgeable and competent owner had continuously maintained the car for twenty years and it was widely travelled; a UK model that had lived in America for some years and now frequently commuted between homes in Scotland and the south of France. I gazed with awe at the ancient receipts in the history file from garages in New Mexico and Arizona, picturing the Mk2 romping through the desert, tumbleweed crossing its path….
The car drove very nicely on the day
