Jimmy Jackson's Jag

He awoke on that bright sun filled morning with a slight headache, but nowhere near as severe as those he had been suffering for some time now. Today Jimmy was far too excited to let something like a headache spoil his day. The minor pain he felt behind his left eye he put down to the hot sticky night this time - no more than that. What a summer ! What a great day !

From the first moment that he saw the Jaguar XJ saloon at the motor show back in 1986, he had wanted one, and now at last he was about to drive away his dream machine. Okay, so it was not a brand new car but it was a 1988 model, just five years old and with an unbelievable but thoroughly proven eleven and a half thousand miles on the clock. As chance would have it, Jimmy had moved to the Berkshire village of Thatcham only a few years ago, to find his next door neighbour was a Jaguar mechanic employed by a local franchise holding garage. More than a few pints had passed both men's lips as Jimmy extolled the virtues his dream machine to his neighbour, Stewart. All Stewart could do was to nod his head sagely from time to time, after all, he worked on the things day in and day out; he did not need telling about the fast sleek cats, from which he earned a living.

It was Stewart who had driven Jimmy over to Maidenhead for the second time to collect his dream car. The first visit had been for Stewart to carry out an inspection of the vehicle which did nothing much more than to confirm the incredible condition of the dark blue Daimler model that sat on the shingle drive of the big house at Pinkney's Green. A Daimler ! Not the so called base model XJ6, not the higher specification Sovereign, but the top notch Daimler; a car which could have ferried Heads of State, Kings even, to and from important missions. Where on earth had it been for the past five years ?
As it turned out the car was one of several being sold by a 'specialist dealer'. Jimmy had spotted the advertisement in 'The Trader', and had been lucky enough to grab a hold of Stewart and beat a path over to Maidenhead, first in the queue of an almost never ending stream of calls that 'Roger Pearce - Jaguar Specialist Sales' had received since he placed the advert for that particular machine.

"This is probably the very finest example that I have ever sold, bar none" he said with some feeling," in fact I was sorely tempted to keep it for myself. Very tempted actually, but I cannot run a business if I keep every beautiful machine that I see - I would end up keeping them all," said Roger with a chuckle.
"So, the history then ? Eleven and a half thousand miles ? Where on earth has it been hiding ?" asked Jimmy.
"This one was uncovered a bit closer to home than I usually have to travel," Roger replied. " You may have noticed a large white painted house set back a bit from the road as you came up the drive ?"
"Oh yes, that place with the big ornate ironwork gates ?"
"Yes, that's the one. I knew the owner quite well, he had a collection of Jaguars including a couple of magnificent XK150's. Sadly, he died recently, but he had bought the Daimler as a run around for his wife. She hated it, far to big and clumsy she said and persuaded him to buy her a little BMW."
"Persuaded ? " interrupted Jimmy, " With a house like that and all those Jags, sounds like he wasn't short of a bob or two."
"Well no. Actually he was involved in property development, overseas mainly. No, dear Hilary had to persuade him because he hated German cars with a vengeance. Something to do with a deal for a new factory for VW that cost him a lot so I understand. Anyway the point is that Hilary didn't much fancy an XJS Jag Sports either so she got her BMW, mind you the specification on that is something else, and the poor old Daimler got locked away in the garage of their London house. When Peter sadly passed away his collection here was auctioned off, apparently the VW deal cost him more than he let on to Hilary and what with death duties...." Roger shrugged, " So all the cars went bar Hilary's BMW. She completely forgot about the one in London until last week when she sold the London House. And there it was, covered in dust sheets, sitting in the mews garage. She called me, and there you are !"
"Amazing" said Jimmy, " What a find !"
"What indeed. But, as they say, life or rather business must go on. So, I have your banker's draft, you have all your documents, and the warranty of course. Make sure you notify the DVLC about your new registration, and I hope you enjoy your Jaguar." Roger closed the deal and both men shook hands. As they left Roger's house, Jimmy paused at the front door and pointed to an Ottoman that stood nearby. Its top was littered with a collection of Panama hats. "Now that's what I need for the back window shelf, a nice Panama."
"Oh those " laughed Roger, " yes, you would be surprised how many people leave one in the car when I have purchased it. Here, take this " he said picking one up and handing it to Jimmy," and good luck."

Both men walked over to the gleaming Jaguar that now bore Jimmy's plate '234 JJ'. Roger pointed out the basic controls to Jimmy, also opening the bonnet to show the various filler points, engine, brakes, transmission and so on."...and don't forget" he emphasised," The hydraulic fluid is not the same as most ordinary cars, so you must get the correct type or else you will have all sort of problems. Okay ?"
"Okay" answered Jimmy as he sank into the creamy leather seat, absent mindedly rubbing his left eye where a lancing pain had just stabbed him.
"Are you okay ?" asked Roger as he saw Jimmy grimace, "You look a bit pale" he said with some concern.
"No,no I'm fine thanks. Just a little headache."
"I can get you some paracetamol if you like ?"
"No, no really. I'll be fine thanks" said Jimmy, pulling the car door shut. He let his feet sink into the plush pile of the Wilton carpet. For a few minutes he sat there, smelling that wonderful smell of leather. "It's all true" he thought happily to himself,
" Everything ever written about the interior of a Jag is true! Look at all this wood, this chrome, the leather. Why these carpets are as good as I have at home, in fact they're better. Marvellous." He leant forward a little and twisted the key. The big V12 purred into life, a feint throbbing that was happening in a world divorced from the one in which he was now sitting, luxuriating. The huge tyres crunched slowly over the gravel drive as Jimmy selected 'Drive' and moved off. " Now where can I go" he thought, " Not down the M4 yet-a-whiles. No, just a gentle meander along the A4, through Reading and then on home. Might even stop at Lancaster Jaguar, treat the old girl to...,to what ? Dunno ! Let's see what they've got" and so off he drove smiling, hardly conscious of the big car as it slipped its way silently up and down its silky smooth gearbox.

"Well what do you think Bren ? " asked Barry anxiously, but at the same time with some pride as he showed off his latest car to his wife, Brenda.
"It's nice, really nice" she answered, " I've always liked that colour green an' all. So how much did you pay for it in the end then ?"
"Eighteen hundred but I got a twoer off that for the old Escort. British Racing Green. Is that great or what, eh ?"
"It's smaller than the Escort though innit, but the hatchback will be handy. Anyway, I learned to drive in a Metro and I've always liked 'em."
" Oh, you did learn then " said Barry with a laugh. Relieved now that the car had been granted his wife's seal of approval.
"Cheeky sod" she laughed, aiming a playful kick at him, "Just fer that you can go and get Sarah and take us off to see me mum for an hour or two. Go on then."
"No problem" agreed Barry, only too happy to take his new pride and joy for a spin, even to her mother's. He went back inside their modest terrace house and gathered up four year old Sarah.
"Come on Sarah. We're off to see Nanny in daddy's nice new car."
"Can I take my pram ? " she asked, "and Suzy and Sally too?"
"Yes, alright" said Barry laughing.The toy pram and her two favourite dolls would take little space even in the small Metro.
A few minutes later the family was seated in the tiny car and they set off the few miles from Reading to Newbury.
"I don't think I will use the motorway today" said Barry, " The roads are not very busy so we can go the scenic route - along the A4." They drove away from Reading, past the hypermarket and the Porsche factory (never passed without Barry pointing and saying,"One day....one day when I win the pools....") They had only got a few miles along the deserted main road when the engine began to stutter. First more like a hiccup that Barry thought had happened but then dismissed, "Bit of crap in the petrol I reckon" he said as the car coughed. Then a definite miss. The engine cut out and fired again, one cylinder, then two, three, four. " Shit" said Barry. Brenda said nothing; her icy expression said it all. Barry coaxed the car on for another mile and then gave up. " Sorry Bren. I'm going to have to pull over and take a look."

She glowered at him. " I thought you checked this out ? eighteen hundred quid  miles. Some bloody bargain I must say !"
"I did check it over" protested Barry, "and anyway it was sixteen not eighteen" he added meekly.
"Yeah and two for the Escort. That may have been rusty but it never let us down !"
"Let me take a shufty now. If it is bad I promise it goes straight back, okay ?" offered Barry, placatingly
"Well, okay then" agreed Brenda, a little hesitation in her voice.
Barry pulled the Metro up onto the grass verge. Although the road was empty he did not want to take any chances, especially if he might need to go and argue back his money for the car. He opened the bonnet and began to poke about inside.
"Mummy" said Sarah, " Suzy and Sally are hot. Can I take then outside ?"
Brenda thought for a moment and then said" Yes alright. But you stay on the grass mind, at the side of the car. No further !" Brenda got out to move her seat and then lifted Sally and her precious pram out onto the grass. Barry was swearing softly under his breath, beneath the raised car bonnet.
"Any idea what it is yet ?" asked Brenda, a little sympathetically.
"Yeah. I think it's the distributor cap. It's a bit of a sod to get at on this car. Can you do me a favour and hold this for me so I can get at it? " Barry pointed to a rubber hose that he wanted Brenda to pull back for him. She grabbed hold of it.
"Shit ! It's hot." she exclaimed.
"Sorry, wrap this old rag around it " suggested Barry as he handed her an old piece of towelling. " Got it ?"
"Yeah, okay now" answered Brenda, then shouting at Sarah, "Stay there Sarah ! There where mummy can see you !"
Barry delved deeper into the maze of wires and hoses around the front of the engine.

Jimmy had driven straight through Reading, deciding to skip a visit to Lancaster Jaguar and press on for home now. He was feeling quite unwell and even the pleasure and excitement of the big car could not overcome his queasiness. He glanced into his rear view mirror, at the fading image of the Porsche factory, hardly noticing now as his foot pressed harder onto the accelerator. The big engine obeyed and the car accelerated some more, 70 miles per hour, eighty, eight five, then ninety. Jimmy could barely read the speedometer through blurred eyes. He just wanted to get home; do what he always did when it was this bad and lie down in a darkened room. Damn !

"There, that's got the bugger!" exclaimed Barry with some satisfaction. He straightened out from his efforts beneath the Metro's bonnet, a black grease mark running down one side of his face, and stood wiping his hands. From the corner of his eye he saw Sarah's pram roll off the grass verge and out into the road. In the same moment he saw Sarah begin to run after it, and saw a single car on the previously deserted road; a car that seemed to be coming towards them at a lunatic speed.

" NO SARAH !" He screamed. "STAY THERE !", but Sarah was already running, already stepping off the verge, chasing her errant pram. Brenda's mouth opened in a silent scream of horror as she realized what was about to happen. As if in slow motion she turned around to leap out after Sarah.

The Jaguar had just passed one hundred and ten miles an hour now. Through a red haze of pain worse that any he had ever known before, Jimmy saw the tiny pram roll onto the road and then his brain registered the little girl that followed. His foot slammed onto the brake pedal and for a split second there was a screech of protesting rubber against tarmac. Then nothing. The pedal sank right down into the plush pile of the carpet. The pain behind Jimmy's eye burst; an explosion of agony in his head as the tumour released all its pent up ferocity. The last thing that Jimmy felt before he died was the ABS system kicking the brake pedal back against his foot as the two tons of hurtling machinery began to slow.

Brenda reached Sarah at precisely the same time that the blue Daimler did. The car had stopped, stopped dead now, the mighty engine silent, with its bumper touching the pram so softly that the pram had not even rocked upon its light springs. Brenda stood with Sarah in her arms, looking at the car and just shaking. There was no colour in her face at all. Barry gently ushered his wife and child back onto the verge, then went over to the Jaguar, ready to give some serious advice and very likely a slap or two to the manic behind the wheel. He tore open the driver's door, the expression on his face one of blind fury.

" You bloody MANIAC ! " he raved, then stopped abruptly. "Hold on", thought Jimmy, "this isn't right. Something's wrong here", he thought as he looked at Jimmy, slumped forwards over the steering wheel. Barry pulled him back. He had never seen a dead person before, but to him, this man looked dead alright.
"Jesus Christ!" he said, shocked, drawing in a deep breath.

As Barry was looking into the lifeless eyes of Jimmy Jackson, a police car was passing on the other side of the road, on its way to Reading. Brenda managed to wave it down and the two officers quickly took charge of the situation. Barry's car still wouldn't start and so a recovery team arrived and took it back home, whilst another recovery truck took Jimmy's Jag away for forensic investigation, " Have to you see" explained one of the policemen,making polite conversation, "what with him dying in it and all..."

It was a week before forensic had finished with the Daimler, returning twice to the section of the A4 where the tragedy had occurred to take samples, to measure distances. At last they were done and sent their report back to Road Traffic, nonsensical as it was, but irrefutably factual. This is a summary of that report....

 ...."and inspection has showed that there was no fluid whatsoever in the braking system of the Blue Daimler registration 234 JJ. Further, this model was subject to a factory recall for possible hydraulic hose failure, but this particular vehicle has not had such rectification work done. Presumably it would have been picked up at its next service period - the vehicle has a very low mileage for its year. The fluid used is of a special type and we were able to gather samples at the scene, from a large stained area at the initial skid marks of the tyres. The skid was so short that only an efficient ABS braking system could account for such short marks. However, the size of the fluid stain and the fact that it exactly matches the residue found in the car's reservoir would indicate that at the moment of braking the entire system failed, and voided onto the road. We are unable to explain how this vehicle ever stopped at all. With regards the driver, there was no evidence what so ever of any alcohol presence, and the autopsy report is attached indicating death from a cerebral haemorrhage. Further details are enclosed ."

....and the report continues with the required technicalities for the police records.

Postscript: The Blue Daimler was traced straight back to the dealer, Roger Pearce, no change of ownership having yet been registered. After a brief conversation with Jimmy's widow Roger refunded all monies and the sale was cancelled. He still owns the Daimler and it still has the Eleven thousand five hundred and twenty eight miles on the speedometer, that the police recorded during their examination. It sits on blocks in a dry barn beside Roger's house. It will never be driven again, but it retains its immaculate condition and it is polished every single week. The faulty hoses were never replaced; the hydraulic system remains empty.

Barry kept the green Austin Metro, after replacing the distributor cap in which he finally found a hairline crack, for another three years. Two years after the accident he moved from his job as a mechanic at a Rover dealer to take on a position with Lancaster Jaguar where he still works, hoping to one day own a Cat himself, a dark blue saloon.

(c) Mike Houghton 2005