Category: Cars

Over on the Jag-Lovers E-type forum/mailing list (one of my favorite and most useful “places to hang out”!) there has been a discussion about theft risk for old cars, specifically E-types. The consensus opinion is that the risks are fairly minimal and limited to these possibilities:

1. joy riders & opportunity theives
2. professional thieves with a “shopping list“
3. vandals (“lets punish the rich guy”)

Number 1 is pretty easy to deal with. Simple battery and/or fuel cut-off switches are easy to make, and use. Add to this the fact that unlike a Toyota Camry you can’t just climb behind the wheel and start these things up. We figure that greater than 95% of the population could not know, nor figure out the sequence to start up one of these cars in under the few minutes it would take to effectively steal it. Choke needs to be set properly according to ambient temperature, the fuel pump needs to be run for a certain amount of time prior to ignition, the ignition key in most E-types goes into the dashboard, not the steering column, and of course turning the key on the ignition switch does NOT engage the starter motor. I could probably start winning some money by betting people $100 that they couldn’t start my car in under 60 seconds. It could help pay for parts! 😉

Number 2 is tough to prevent, if not impossible. On the risk mitigation side, the reality is that the E-type is not that rare, and not that valuable. This isn’t a Ferrari GTO, or even GTB/4. If you owned a TRULY rare Jaguar, like an XKSS, factory Lightweight E-type or similar racing-heritage Jag, both of which less than 20 were made so they are worth $millions, the risk is real. But for those of us with a mass-produced plain-jane E-type, the risk is minimal. Over 70,000 E-types were built by Jaguar Cars over a 13 year period between 1961 and 1974. While this was small-potatoes compared to Detroit’s output in those days, it is enough to make the E-type somewhat pedestrian in the collector car world. Very few E-types fetch more than $50,000 in reality, especially ones that are driven and make a relatively target-rich environment. But, if a “pro” wants your car, they are going to get it. For that the best bet is to make sure that the world has some way of matching you, with your car. The best place for that is XKEData.com an online registry for Jaguar E-types. It is a great resource and serves as a registry and place to perform research about Jaguar E-types. You can get data about VIN numbers and how to interpret them; see samples of original paint schemes; view wiring diagrams; find other cars in series or your region; etc. If somebody were to steal your XKE, then all the data used to track it is available in this very public spot. The cost involved to CHANGE/FAKE the car to another identity (cost of paint, and changing all the numbers on the car and dataplate) could EASILY exceed the actual monetary value of the car.

That leaves us with Number 3.

That’s a tough one. First of all, let me clear up one misconception right now: owning an old Jag is a personality defect, NOT a marker of a “rich person”… if anything quite the opposite given the cost of parts and maintenance! Like my friend and occasional commentor on this website Dan O’Donnell once said: “From Experience I can say it’s better to have a friend who has an E-type than to have an E-type.” Cars lose their value over time, and adjusted for inflation they represent (if lucky!) a break-even proposition over their lifetime. In the case of my car, it is still, if you’ll pardon the ironic pun, “under water.”

Most of the guys I know who own E-types either fell in love with them, or were lucky to own when back in the days when they were relatively new, and promised themselves that they’d have one, eventually, or in the case of the lucky ones, again. Very few of these people are what you’d call “rich”… like the “you’re my base” people that G. W. Bush talks to. They are people for whom this object has gained entry into their lives and through some passion and financial means, stays there. Now that they are older and have shed the main financial responsibilities (family, etc) of life, they have pursued that dream and made it reality. Most of them have bought a “barely runner” and lovingly restored it back to “driver” or “show” status. There is another group of people, like myself and Paul Wigton for whom these machines are a connection to our parents and our past. These are family heirlooms of sorts, whose value far exceeds monetary indexes. “Tweety” and “the 65E” are cars that go beyond their outer skin and embrace entire lives and histories. You can’t tack a number on that.

So how do you deter the misanthrope who has no clue to such value? Someone who only sees the shallow surface of the car as some symbol of wealth (despite the fact that the new pickup or SUV parked in the same lot probably cost more!) The person who feels the need to lash out at perceived ills and inflict damage? My car does have a “key scrape” on the driver’s door from just such a person. It remains because to fix it would cost me way too much money… money that I don’t have (ironic eh?) I live with it, but it does cause me a bit of pain every time I see it.

I love to visit car shows and see old cars. I’ve noted over the years that virtually every car will have a sign on it saying “please don’t touch.” In fact it has become such common practice that the car show identification signs usually even pre-print something similar right on them. Some people take it to extremes, with implied or direct threats should you have the audacity to place so much as a finger on their automobile. Oddly enough these signs frequently adorn cars which are truly common, with ready parts supplies from virtually every NAPA in America. When I see these signs my natural impulse, which of course I must suppress, is to reach out and place my hand on the car. Not damage it mind you, but just lay my hand upon it. I don’t know if everyone feels that impulse, so maybe I’m weird, but the reaction is very strong. It is a car! A hunk of steel and rubber, chrome and aluminum, weighing thousands of pounds. It isn’t a delicate latticework, it is the product of an industrial process capable of propelling itself at speeds which can kill people and damage property. If I touch it, it will NOT break.

So I’ve contemplated that impulse and decided to work it in my favor. I’m sure I’m not the first or only person to do so… heck it is a standard methodology for parenting children and teenagers! I proudly tell everyone on the planet “touch my car!” I’ve made a sign that I place on my dashboard. It is taped to two bits of cardboard, and slides up into the windscreen nicely. It talks about the car in general terms, and this car in specific terms, and invites people to touch it. Provided they are careful, and most people are, there is really zero risk for damage. I’m happy to have people run their hands over it. I am happy to have kids sit behind the wheel and look out over that bonnet. I’ll take anyone who asks for a ride. Honestly, I’ve let friends and even complete strangers drive it, with me in the passenger seat of course. The latter are usually bona-fide “car guys” that I meet, who have a genuine appreciation for the machine. By dropping the paranoia, and embracing people’s native appreciation for beautiful old cars, I minimize the potential for “Risk # 3” listed above.

If you are the caretaker of an old car, give this approach a try. Let me know how it works. Instead of frowns and evil-smirks, it creates smiles. I suspect that happy people don’t vandalize or steal. If you think I’m crazy, feel free to let me know.

A few weeks ago I contacted the organizer of the 4th of July Parade here in Arlington and asked if they needed an old car. The parade here is a fun little affair, with old cars, tractors, business vehicles, the high school marching band, etc. We’ve always gone and watched, and had a great time. Neighbors always told me I should put my car in, so I called. The organizer asked “Is it a convertible? I need convertibles to carry people” and when I replied affirmatively she said “Yes, you’re my hero! I need a convertible to carry the Police Chief.” I confirmed with her the start time & place, washed the car that morning, and headed into Arlington for the big day.

When I arrived I was told that my position was #1, which meant I’d be leading the parade. Very cool. I was given a pair of large magnets with the Police Chief’s name and title on them, and told where to line up. Then it was just a matter of waiting. Thankfully I had left the tonneau cover on the car and was able to put it on to keep the interior cool in the hot sun. The Arlington Fire Department lined up behind me, including an beautiful antique fire engine. I had a look at the engine’s engine… a unique machine. It was a flathead straight six, with two plugs per cylinder. I took a photo, which I’ll link to later. As parade time approached, more participants lined up, and I noted another Jaguar, in this case an XK8 lined up opposite me.

How symmetrical. Two open topped Jaguars, each carrying a “top cop” in my case the Arlington Police Chief, in the other the Snohomish County Sheriff. That’s cool.

BUT. My dignitary had yet to arrive! Literally as the moment arrived to start the parade, (The Color Guard had lined up right behind my car and raised the flag) the organizer came up to me and told me that the Police Chief was not going to ride in my car, but would instead ride in a patrol car. Her walkie- talkie was going like mad, and I was not able to ask what I was supposed to do (drive along behind him? go to the back of the line? carry the Dairy Princess? go home?) A cop came along and took the signs off my car. So here I was, at the head of the line, stripped of my “parade gear” and left with no instruction. I hopped out of my car and ran after the parade organizer, but she already was climbing into her truck, still talking on the walkie-talkie, and pulled away.

I climbed back into the Jag and told the Color Guard to be careful of the exhaust, and fired it up and pulled away, and found a spot at the back of the parade lineup. I ran up and found my family and offered the passenger spot to my boys, which Nicholas gladly accepted. He really wanted to throw candy to his friends – I had bought 3 pounds of smarties at the Food Pavilion for the purpose. By the time we got back to the car the Parade was progressing and we only had a few minutes to chat with the guys from the Stilly Valley Pioneer Museum who we were parked behind. They had two old Fords, a Model A and Model T, out for the parade. The guy in the Model T lives near me and owns a couple of really old Rolls Royce’s, so he had an appreciation for old British six cylinder machinery.

So as we pulled away, and followed the Fords, Nicholas prepared to start slinging Smarties. We pulled inline and started down Olympic Avenue. I was primarily concerned with not abusing my clutch, and staying an even distance behind the Fords. As such I didn’t have too much time to relish the experience. I was able to throw some candy to kids who looked like they needed/wanted it – including my wife, who caught the candy I flung at her with a smile. Nick was able to wave to his friends, and throw way too much candy out… in fact he ran out about halfway down Olympic avenue! Should we ever participate again he’ll have to pace himself.

They had an announcer on a loudspeaker calling out what was in the parade, as we passed there was silence. We were out of order due to the last minute change with the Police Chief, which obviously confused things. I did have at least FOUR people walk away from the curb and ask me about the car, plus innumerable “nice car!” shouts from folks who stayed on the curb. I answered the questions, and said “thank you” to all the compliments. I’m indeed lucky to be the caretaker of such a nice machine.

It was all over, way too soon. The car did well, never looked like it would overheat or stall.

Nick & I went home, enjoying the ride. After our arrival, I went to work at replacing the front plate that had been removed from the car after the incident with the pickup truck. The repair of which removed the plate from the car.

It was a fun job. I hadn’t done any wet burnishing in a while. You can see if you look closely, that I used fishing line as a guide to make sure I lined up the plate level. I built a grid by tying down the line at various places on the car, then misted and placed the plate down. After it was down, I noted that it was just a bit higher than it was before… oh well. Next I’ll put the numbers on.

All my pictures from the day are here.