A friend back in Melbourne, Australia bought a used Mark ten (correct model?), about a 1965 vehicle. A four point two engine with big twin S. U carburetors. We drove to Sydney for a vacation, but on the way had a mishap. We had just left a country town late at night after buying fuel. The friend decided to see what the car could do. The speedometer needle just kept climbing. At 120 miles an hour the road dropped slightly down into a patch of fog. The friend eased off the accelerator and we started coasting to a lower speed. Luckily the road was straight so no curves to deal with. We came out of the fog at a 110 miles an hour. In front of us laying on the road was a dead kangaroo, most likely a victim of a big truck. We hit the 'roo and were airborne. All I saw was night sky before we crashed back to earth. The friend slowed the car down as it was pulling to one side after hitting the 'roo.We drove at a more sedate pace till morning and found a garage to look at the car. They said the whole front sub-frame was buckled from the impact and told us we were lucky to be alive as the domestic Holdens or Fords would not have survived the impact. So the one good thing about those larger older model Jags is how solidly built they were. The best thing that happened to Jaguar was Ford buying them and sinking a lot of money in to the company.Jag' still makes great vehicles...
What a fantastic review!
It would appear to closely mirror my youthful Jag/Daimler based sins, but on the other side of the world.
I only live today as a result of God's mercy and nothing to do with my skill or wisdom. In those days, I had bucket loads of neither!
Thanks for the kind comments. I thought I'd wait a few years to see if anyone read the thing.
I'm still in one piece, but I'm afraid not cured...
I'm 55 now, and I do enjoy my Healey 100/4, despite its Lucas components!
Occasionally, I've taken again to that long straight road down south.
I'm pleased to report that the thrill of hitting the ton is just the same, and I swear I can hear behind me, above the noise of the engine, tyres, wind and my own laughter, the excited voices of my mates and of those young girls, who may even be grandmothers now.
Like the quality of a fine single malt, some things never change.
My father bought his dream car -- well, almost -- a Rolls would have been perfect -- a British Racing. Completely taken apart and put together cars in his time, so that was not a big thing. Sadly he wouldn't let me drive it, saying it was too heavy for me to handle. It was absolutely gorgeous and so comfortable, leather and wood veneer, absolutely the pinnacle of auto manufacturing, pure luxury.
However, aside from the rust (the previous owner had lived very close to the ocean), there must have been other problems, because he sold it in about a year. Or maybe it was just to buy a car for me to drive to university, and one for himself as well.
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