King of the swingers

By Richard Whitehead
If you thought the Jaguar XK was good, try out the supercharged big brother. Richard Whitehead did, and loved it.
As my dad would say: I haven’t had so much fun since the ‘Sixties.
Unfortunately for me, I missed out on that reckless decade. Apparently, the legendary rock promoter Bill Graham once exclaimed: “If you can remember the ‘Sixties, you weren’t really there.” I don’t because I definitely wasn’t.
I have, however, heard about the goings-on during that era, and I’m impressed with the whole thing. Aside from a couple of minor events – the Cuban Missile Crisis and Vietnam spring to mind quite quickly – the ‘Sixties strike me as more rocking than swinging, although I hear the latter was quite popular at the time.

My school history teacher, Mr Muir, glossed over the whole decade without apology. A conservative type who was so frail he would have had difficulty beating even a cartoon character in a scrap, “Muscles” Muir, I’m sure, regretted the whole affair. My mother once told me how, at her convent school, pages in Homer’s Iliad and some sections of Latin poetry were glued together by nuns so innocent eyes wouldn’t be blinded by classical events of a spicy nature. Muscles did much the same for what was a pivotal decade for cultural, political and social development.
He wholeheartedly disapproved of the shenanigans of the Summer of Love; there’s no chance he would have even considered booking a ticket to fly to Woodstock or San Francisco, or getting the train to Brighton. For him, even the highly significant geo-political machinations were tainted by a pervading liberal culture that sullied the ten years after his beloved ‘Fifties.
It’s a strange attitude to have, considering his penchant for the decade’s fashions, which no doubt still adorn his diminutive frame.
Jaguar is, however, the complete opposite of Muscles in every way. How the icon must hark back to the era of the Mark II and the heady days when Carnaby Street. Recently, thanks to a cult hero by the name of Austin Powers and a genuinely magnificent vehicle in last year’s XK, the future is ripe for the plucking at the beleaguered British manufacturer.

Muscles would never have driven an XK: a Nissan Micra would have been more his cup of tea. But he’d be in a minority. Even those who weren’t around in the ‘Sixties, like me, can straight away glean the era’s flavour alongside the bright future of Jaguar’s grand tourer.
If the XK was magnificent, the supercharged XKR variant is a hundred times better. It’s, put simply, outrageous value for money.
Thank heavens Jaguar is well on the way to the glory days of its heyday. It’s just a shame it’s taken so damn long. When you look at the soon-to-be-replaced product line-up, it’s hard not to accuse the venerable old brand of churning out turkeys faster than a stateside fowl farm afore Thanksgiving.

The X-Type is little more than a fiscally inflated Mondeo in Jag’s clothing, and it’s just plain wrong on so many levels. There’s that old marketing saying that you should get them young: how can you do that when the X-Type says “luxury bathchair for the retired middle manager” all over it?
Then there’s the silly S-Type. We can see what Jaguar was hoping to achieve with this release in 2000, but it’s clear that this model was a white elephant if ever there was one. Part classical, part modern, its styling is an uncomfortable blend that’s quirky enough to pull in some punters but there’s no way it was ever going to come to the rescue of the challenged carmaker.
And finally, there’s the venerable old gentleman, the XJ, which has been around since 1968. It’s great, particularly in its most recent regeneration, but you’ll rarely see anyone younger than Edward Woodward or Arfer Daley behind the wheel.
And then, out of the blue, came the XK. The replacement for the long-in-the-tooth XK8, the new model was a breath of fresh air that was acclaimed the world over. There’s no doubt it’s a stunner, although for me, it took some time to get used to it.
You can tell the Aston Martin DNA, sired by Ford, in the lines of the Jag. The swooping haunches make up for the wonderful poise so many other GTs would give their right seat for. Few would disagree that Aston provides the perfect package of looks and attention to detail, and with this rubbing off on the XK, in the guise of faultless proportion and amazing geometry, this is a true stablemate at the Gaydon stud.
While there are memories of the long-adored E-Type in the snub-nosed, elliptical radiator and the tapered rump, this is a wholly modern offering that signals Jaguar’s march into the future. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and the XK holds truck-loads of it, but when it comes to push and shove, just stand behind and use all your senses to experience why the R in its name is so special.
Your sight is sated by the sweeping lines that shimmer along the graceful rear hatch, but that’s not the best bit. You have to hear it to believe it: the guttural blast of sonic beauty emanating from the four exhaust pipes, and all the while you can feel the crescendo of shock waves on your skin as the 4.2-litre, supercharged V8 does its best to mimic the sound of Holst’s The Planets at a car park near you.
According to the designers of the new Jag, which has just arrived on Gulf shores, their brief was to create the “XK plus 30 per cent, the ultimate sports GT for the real world.”

Allocating the XKR a place in “the real world” strikes me as a euphemism for a supercar that is affordable – not an everyday proposition, by all means, but just do the maths:

The supercharger and intercooler crank up the heat from 300 on the XK to 420 bhp; this may not sound like much compared with the 500-horse BMW M6, but it’s torque that moves the car, and the Jag packs plenty with 413 lb-ft at 4,000 revs. The M6, to continue the example, has 383 lb-ft, although the BMW remains the faster machine.
And don’t forget about Aston’s baby, the Vantage, which has far less power and torque available, although a similarly majestic soundtrack, but weighs in the region of a whopping $130,000, far more than the Jag’s paltry $90-odd. The M6, meanwhile, tips the scales at over $140,000. That’s a lesson – far more interesting than anything Muscles Muir ever conducted – in value, and the XKR is at the top of the class.
To make the most of all the sensory possibilities of the engine, you need a good gearbox, and the Jag’s six-speed ZF unit is, as you would expect, a cracker. It allows you the choice of standard drive, Sport drive (higher shift points, more driver adaptation), or full manual control via paddle shifters done Ferrari-style: tug the right paddle for upshifts, the left for down. Meanwhile, the aforementioned quad-tipped exhaust is of the active variety, meaning that baffles adjust the burble between quiet for cruising and muscular under hard acceleration.
Mat the gas pedal, and 0-to-100 km/h comes up in 4.9 seconds, says Jaguar, and that feels right to me. The XKR will pull hard and strong to its electronically limited 250 km/h top speed. After a dozen years, the company has learned how to manage superchargers. There’s no bucking, spitting, or coughing on the overrun. No peakiness in the power band. Just a smooth, strong pull from idle to redline. The soundtrack is blended with one-part supercharger whine and two-parts pure rumbling, V8 exhaust – a big shout-out to the transmission for its part.

There’s a clear difference between the three modes. In drive, it melts from gear to gear. In Sport, it’s firmer and more responsive. In manual, it shifts quickly with a solid boot, and the rev-matching blips on downshifts are sweet. Except for possible power losses due to its being a torque-converter automatic, this is a better solution for this type of car than a more expensive and complicated sequential manual.
In spite of the competitive price, there has been no scrimping. This really is a luxury car. Nineteen-inch Jupiter alloys come standard, with lovely 20-inch Cremona wheels optional. More go demands more whoa, so the R gets badged callipers and the front rotor size increases from 32-and-a-half to 35-and-a-half centimetres.
Visual upgrades are subtle: all-mesh grillework up front in a revised fascia, functional bonnet vents that proclaim “Supercharged”, aluminum-finished side vents, and some stylised-R badging.
The interior gets more supportive sport seats, and much of the logically designed facia is faced in a terrific-looking, latticed aluminium trim. For those who prefer timber to metal, lustrous walnut fascias are a no-cost option. The overall effect, as Jaguar yearns to create, is that of a cockpit that cossets and supports the driver. A high centre console over the meaty drive-line shuts you in and echoes the good old days of British sports motoring.
The design has been as comprehensive inside as outside, and the layout all round is beautiful, and there’s adequate storage too. The quality of the materials used is first rate, and should go a long way to bury the tales of dire fit and finish that date back all the way to the ‘Seventies.
Drive the XKR for about five minutes and you’ll immediately be aware of the tremendous feeling of solidity. It’s not an illusion. The new model’s unique-to-the-industry aluminium monocoque body is, in effect, its own chassis. There is no conventional spaceframe with separate body panels hung on it.

This results in all kinds of benefits, starting with a higher level of passenger safety, reduced noise and vibration, and improved ride and handling characteristics thanks to improved suspension dynamics.
For many, there was little choice: you went for the Beemer, Merc or Aston, depending on the contents of your wallet. Now, there’s another thoroughbred to choose from that’s every bit as good, but in a different way.

Value is a word I’ve used, but another one that really merits a mention is fun. The XKR is drop-dead good fun and frolics that will keep you entertained even during the drudgery of the 6pm crawl-home route. Once there’s a bit of space available, you open it up and your pride and joy becomes something else altogether. It’s light and nimble and manageable, although the limited height from the road top is a little disconcerting at first. You just deal with it.
And that’s what got me thinking about the ‘Sixties. The XKR has plenty of free love on tap and driving it, you can feel what it would have been like to be one of the first customers for one of those beautiful E-Types, so ground breaking is the supercharged Jag. This is not a car you weigh up and compare with the competitors: this is a highly charged emotional purchase that you cannot fail to be happy with.

The XK is nice, but as far as looks go it's obscured by the competition. Hopefully Ian Callum and team can come up with an exciting facelift to give this car more visual character(more attention to detail is key).

IMO the only XK worth getting is the XKR, convertible of course. We've reached a point in the car world where 300hp could really be considered "underpowered" in a high-end GT car. The regular XK doesn't look so hot beyond its styling, the XK is the more complete package.

I love this comment:

"The X-Type is little more than a fiscally inflated Mondeo in Jag’s clothing, and it’s just plain wrong on so many levels."

So true, so true. What I don't get is why they don't kill it off. I guess any sale will do at this point.

M