Across the Midwest in a Jaguar MkII
Across the Midwest in a Jaguar MkII
by Lawrence Buja
It was a glorious adventure, Scotty and I blazing out of Boulder on a
sunny fall afternoon in a sparkling 1960 Jaguar MkII. Like a couple
school-boys playing hooky, we were leaving behind our everyday worries
and responsibilities for a few carefree days behind the wheel of a 35
year old Jag. Our departure was auspicious, under a wonderful display
of mountain wave clouds with beautiful full color spectrums glowing all
along their outer edges from the ice crystal refractions. Pushing hard
to stay ahead of an incoming front, we purred along at a steady 75 to
80mph, passing everything but the gas station, getting long looks and
thumbs-up from the passengers in the other cars as we blew by them.
Our goal was to deliver the Jag safely to Jim Beckmeyer in Michigan,
1200 miles and two days away. Our only limitation was the 3K redline in
4thOD which Grossman, our Jag-guru, had slapped on us in order to
preserve the motor. On the rolling dunes of eastern Colorado, we were
treated to a spectacular sunset. But, once we hit Nebraska and headed
due east into the darkness, the temperatures started dropping rapidly
and our nice tailwind turned into a hard quartering wind which we would
be fighting for the rest of the trip. With the old MkII heater being
more wishes and marketing than heat, it wasn't a trip for the faint of
heart. We got down to our task, and the back seat of the jag slowly
began to fill with maps, candy wrappers and fast-food debris.
Both Scotty and I have done enough car work that we were confident that
we could fix almost any problem which might occur. Still, this car
hadn't seem many miles in the last couple years, mainly driven to local
shows once or twice a year, so we didn't know if something was lurking
in the wings to surprise us. So, even after our long pre-trip shakedown
cruises with the car, I still packed every tool which I thought we could
conceivably use. If it was a serious break- down, we would simply rent
a truck and haul the car the rest of the way. We ran a lead off the
battery into the cabin to monitor the charging voltage, then wired it
into the CB radio to listen in on the truckers and call for help if we
needed it. The passenger side door had decided to stop opening, so we
duct-taped around it to better seal out the wind noise and cold. We
were constantly steering to the right to counter the strong south wind
and it was very strange to see long tractor-trailers twisting and
flexing along their length under the large wind loads.
As we drove, it soon became obvious from the amount of dark smoke coming
out the tailpipe and the quart of oil which we had to add every hundred
miles, that the oil consumption of the old Jag was substantial. The oil
dipstick hole is located in a most awkward position, but we soon had the
drill of filling up with gas, then checking/adding the oil by flashlight
down to pit-crew precision. The sight of two guys under the hood of an
old Jag seemed to be a magnet for almost everyone. Be it a couple of
derelicts in a beater car or a bunch of well-dressed businessmen in a
Lexus, that MkII got alot of attention. At one point, some yokel in
western Nebraska drove up in his Mercedes, started chatting about the
Jag, then proceeded to try to buy it from us.
In the dark, things started to get silly as they are apt to on a long
trip. At one point we adopted nautical terms: "Bring her about!!!" or
"Ring down for more power!!!" and "Sir, we are making smoke." When it
got too boring, we put on a tape of The Greaseman, a raunchy DC radio
DJ, and things really got out of hand. Other drivers must have thought
us crazy, laughing our heads off for no apparent reason. Our waitress
knew we were crazy, with a barrage of off-colour jokes and comments
flying across the dinner table. "Shhhhpread me a feast..."
We made our target of Lincoln, Nebraska at 11pm, checked into a cheap
hotel and logged in to check on our e-mail and my model run on the Cray
back in Boulder. The next morning was as windy as the night before. We
were a bit ahead of our schedule, so we took a detour to the aircraft
museum at the SAC base in Omaha Nebraska. Parked on the runway was some
very cool big iron, the likes of which I'd never seen before; a B36 +
it's Goblin parasite fighter, SR-71, U2, B-58, other experimental jet
bombers, some big century fighters and a tiny MIG-21. The most
fascinating thing was a very odd 28 cylinder radial engine having 4
banks of 7 cylinders with the orientation twisting from front to back.
As we passed into Iowa, the car started to miss under load. Scotty is
great to be around because he usually has 5 theories for any problem and
one of them usually turns out to be right. It was like a quiz show. My
first inclination was to check the points, but Scotty simply asked "How
much oil have we gone thru?" With the count currently at 5 quarts, it
had to be the plugs oil fouling. Faced with this problem, we immediately
stopped and got breakfast. After our meal, we came out to a cool car;
we removed and cleaned all the spark plugs. As we pulled smoothly away
in a cloud of oil smoke, it was obvious that the problem was fixed.
We continued across Iowa at high speeds, slowing only for a very ugly
wreck where a Tractor-trailer center-punched a little Saturn, which got
tossed in the ditch and burned. It was an unpleasant reality check. We
decided that the CB radio is USENET for truckers, of relatively little
use, but occasionally humorous. Being autumn, the farmers had just
spread some very odious substances to fertilize their fields. One
trucker came on and asked "What is that HORRIBLE smell?" and another
replied "I don't smell a thing, it must be something in your truck."
We stopped for the evening at a friend's house in my old home town in
northern Illinois. It was great seeing them, but during the night the
front overtook us and we woke to a drizzling rain. The drizzle turned
into a crackling downpour and the rest of the trip through the Chicago
expressways and into Michigan wasn't much fun at all. In spite of the
heavy rain, the Jag drove like a champ. With all the spray and fog, we
were mainly afraid of getting clobbered by some other driver. But once
we made it to Jim's house on the lake, we were warm, comfy and well
taken care of for the rest of the weekend by Jim and his wife. The trip
ended with a ride back to the Chicago airport, with Jim kindly giving
both Scotty and I a chance to drive his beautiful white XJ40. Nice car.
We couldn't believe that the trip went so well. No speeding tickets, no
accidents, no breakdowns and only one very minor problem. In spite of
gross overpacking in the tool department, the only tools we needed were
a sparkplug socket and a little piece of sandpaper. The 3.4L XK6 engine
ran wonderfully and really restored my faith in those engines after the
bad experiences I've been having with my 4.2L. Scotty and I had a great
time and Jim got his MkII for less than the cost of shipping it.
/\ Lawrence Buja http://www.cgd.ucar.edu/cms/southern/
\_][ southern@ncar.ucar.edu National Center for Atmospheric Research
\_________________________Boulder,_Colorado___80307-3000__________
|