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Back when I was a kid, Mom was really into Jaguars. (The cars, not the cats. Though the cats are cool, too, and we actually have a neat sculpture of one in the front hall). She kept saying she'd like to own one. Not that she really seriously expected it, but that she thought it would be really cool.
One year, for her birthday, Dad jokingly got her one. It was about 6 inches long. *g* Mom had mixed feelings about that. She was glad to have something, but she was less than fully satisfied.
The next year found us at a used car dealer's lot. Mom, for all her repeated noises, hadn't really expected it, but Dad knew it would make her happy. And it wasn't too bad, used.
We got a white 1984 XJ6. (It looks like this. Also this.)
Beautiful car. Classic lines. An engine that purred (and, when you opened it up, sometimes roared). Comfy leather seats. Brights that weren't just a higher setting on the regular headlights, but rather a second pair of lamps with really impressive width and intensity.
Oh, and a history of frequent needs for maintenence, often involving hard-to-find parts from overseas. But... whatever. :-P
It was our special car. The one you took for special occasions, or for a surprise treat (going to or from school, the train station, Grandma's house, etc). Just because it was that cool.
It's the car we took to my oldest sister's wedding. The car that we drove her and her new husband to the airport with. The car that broke down on the way back from the airport just a block from the house. In the pouring rain.
The car that became less and less reliable and more and more expensive to maintain as the years went by.
The car that we took pictures of the dog in, just because it was that cool.
The car that had the back windows covered in dog drool because the dog got carsick and, run-down as the car had become (in the sort of beloved/comfy "favorite shirt/slippers" sort of way), it was the best way to get her around.
Style. Elegance. Exotic mystique. Memories.
It's gone pretty much unused for the last several years. It just broke down too much. The battery kept dying. The tires started to go flat. But still... it was the Jag. We kept up the registration. Somehow got it to pass inspection. And had to pay insurance on it. Not that they charged too much. Old unreliable thing was barely worth a fraction of its original price according to Kelly Blue Book, even if it had been in perfect condition.
We knew it had to go, but... It was the Jag.
Finally decided enough was enough. We weren't going to renew the registration again, even if we could. Fixing it would cost more than it was worth, and we knew even that wouldn't last. So Mom put me on the job. She directed me to the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation, a charity with significance for us which takes vehicile donations.
I called them on Monday.
The tow truck guy called us on Tuesday. We got everything together, took off the plates, etc.
And, this morning... they took it away. Loaded it up on the tow truck and drove off. As easy as that. Took less than 5 minutes, I think.
Sad to see it go. A little harder than I thought it would be.
But it's for the best.
They'll put it up for auction. Hopefully get something decent for it. It is a classic car. I think, given its age, it even qualifies for official "classic car" plates. And there are collectors out there. People who will give it a good home and the care and attention it deserves (and needs so badly).
We won't have to pay insurance for it anymore. Won't have to feel guilty about keeping a broken wreck around. Won't have to worry about if or how to get it fixed. And we'll get a nice tax deduction this year.
Still, it's kind of the end of an era.
They don't make 'em like that anymore. Now Ford owns the company, and although they've greatly improved the reliability, they've stripped the cars of all personality. No more purring Jag engine. No more distinctive Jag lines. No more nifty dual headlight system. No more strange, inconvenient, but somehow obscurely cool dual gas tank system. Now it's just a dressed-up Ford.
Goodbye, old friend. Sorry to see you go. Sorry we couldn't do better for you. Hope you find a good home. You'll be missed.
One year, for her birthday, Dad jokingly got her one. It was about 6 inches long. *g* Mom had mixed feelings about that. She was glad to have something, but she was less than fully satisfied.
The next year found us at a used car dealer's lot. Mom, for all her repeated noises, hadn't really expected it, but Dad knew it would make her happy. And it wasn't too bad, used.
We got a white 1984 XJ6. (It looks like this. Also this.)
Beautiful car. Classic lines. An engine that purred (and, when you opened it up, sometimes roared). Comfy leather seats. Brights that weren't just a higher setting on the regular headlights, but rather a second pair of lamps with really impressive width and intensity.
Oh, and a history of frequent needs for maintenence, often involving hard-to-find parts from overseas. But... whatever. :-P
It was our special car. The one you took for special occasions, or for a surprise treat (going to or from school, the train station, Grandma's house, etc). Just because it was that cool.
It's the car we took to my oldest sister's wedding. The car that we drove her and her new husband to the airport with. The car that broke down on the way back from the airport just a block from the house. In the pouring rain.
The car that became less and less reliable and more and more expensive to maintain as the years went by.
The car that we took pictures of the dog in, just because it was that cool.
The car that had the back windows covered in dog drool because the dog got carsick and, run-down as the car had become (in the sort of beloved/comfy "favorite shirt/slippers" sort of way), it was the best way to get her around.
Style. Elegance. Exotic mystique. Memories.
It's gone pretty much unused for the last several years. It just broke down too much. The battery kept dying. The tires started to go flat. But still... it was the Jag. We kept up the registration. Somehow got it to pass inspection. And had to pay insurance on it. Not that they charged too much. Old unreliable thing was barely worth a fraction of its original price according to Kelly Blue Book, even if it had been in perfect condition.
We knew it had to go, but... It was the Jag.
Finally decided enough was enough. We weren't going to renew the registration again, even if we could. Fixing it would cost more than it was worth, and we knew even that wouldn't last. So Mom put me on the job. She directed me to the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation, a charity with significance for us which takes vehicile donations.
I called them on Monday.
The tow truck guy called us on Tuesday. We got everything together, took off the plates, etc.
And, this morning... they took it away. Loaded it up on the tow truck and drove off. As easy as that. Took less than 5 minutes, I think.
Sad to see it go. A little harder than I thought it would be.
But it's for the best.
They'll put it up for auction. Hopefully get something decent for it. It is a classic car. I think, given its age, it even qualifies for official "classic car" plates. And there are collectors out there. People who will give it a good home and the care and attention it deserves (and needs so badly).
We won't have to pay insurance for it anymore. Won't have to feel guilty about keeping a broken wreck around. Won't have to worry about if or how to get it fixed. And we'll get a nice tax deduction this year.
Still, it's kind of the end of an era.
They don't make 'em like that anymore. Now Ford owns the company, and although they've greatly improved the reliability, they've stripped the cars of all personality. No more purring Jag engine. No more distinctive Jag lines. No more nifty dual headlight system. No more strange, inconvenient, but somehow obscurely cool dual gas tank system. Now it's just a dressed-up Ford.
Goodbye, old friend. Sorry to see you go. Sorry we couldn't do better for you. Hope you find a good home. You'll be missed.
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