I'm a little late with my intro, started it once, but lost it when I took an overnight break. It was probably a little long and wordy, anyway. Blame that on reading too much Proust and Knaussgaard.

My wife, Kathy, and I live on a 36˝ acre plot we used to call Glenrock Farm when we and our two sons, now in their 50's, were raising sheep to supplement our income from my work as an optician. That stopped when I figured out that, though we showed a profit, I was only getting 5 cents an hour for my effort, though I paid my sons more

My interest in cars started early in my life which was not unusual in the early 1950's. I bought my first car, a 1949 Chrysler Windsor Club Coupe, at age 15˝ and spent the six months until I could drive it removing all the chrome trim, painting it flat black and and replacing the single brake light and top of fender mounted directionals with 'bullet' lights from a 1955 Buick. I read "Hot Rod", "Sports Car Graphic", "Road & Track" and dreamed of owning an MGTC or an XK 120. When the engine blew on the "Fossil", as my friends called it, I could only scrape together enough to buy a 1955 Oldsmobile. The local Ford garage called me and said a farm boy was joining the navy the next day and wanted some cash for his car–my first of many $50 cars. I blew the engine on this car too which was not unusual as they had split skirt pistons, prone to failure. I set about rebuilding it: had the block boiled and bored 0.60 over, installed high compression racing pistons, some used milled high compression heads from a junked race car, then swapped it into a 1956 Olds two door hardtop with fresh paint and no engine. I enjoyed this car for about a year. After a hot day at a motorcycle hill climb at a local bluff, a friend with a 650cc BSA challenged me to a race back to town. I edged him out with my speedometer buried above 120 mph. Hot and dusty, we climbed the fence at the city pool and cooled off while our rides did the same. When we were refreshed, mine was frozen! Whoever had built the heads had neglected to use stiff valve springs. The piston skirts were not broken, but the marks in the top of one piston showed that a valve had floated. The engine, however, had another life; my cousin gave me $100 for it, replaced the piston and valve in that cylinder only, and put it in his stock car.

I decided to look for a TC, but they were too dear for me. I looked at a lot of TD's but wasn't impressed. Then I spotted a Jaguar MK1 or 2 outside a gas station with a for sale sign and was smitten. I could not, however, afford it, but the warmth of the wood trim and the smell of the leather stayed with me.

I soon began working for a civil engineering company and could afford to buy new. I got married to Kathy my, now, wife of 55 years who has never driven. We had a Plymouth Barracuda, an Opel GT and a Plymouth Duster that were new. I was busy, now, and tired of late nights in the garage, but soon found out that new did not mean trouble free.

While working, now, for an international design and build construction company as a field engineer assigned to the construction of corporate headquarters for a large company, the owner's representative showed up one day with a brand new Series 1 XJ6. I, once more, was smitten.

By this time, I had been working at this rather stressful job on large industrial and commercial projects in Minnesota, New Jersey and Connecticut, sucessively, with no time off and occasionally 24 hours a day on week ends. We now had a son and I longed for a life as a family man. After two more jobs in New Jersey and one in Massachusetts, where I was struck by a car and thrown 60 feet on the industrial park road next to the project while doing some surveying. I was ready for change.

My hardhat and heavy winter clothing saved me from serious injury, except for a concussion, facial lacerations and a very sore sprained neck. Nevertheless, a weekend shutdown of the existing plant had been scheduled in two days for steam and electrical connections to be made to the new building. I was given one day off to rest, then back to work to prepare for 24 hour days. I could sleep at night on a wooden bench in a construction trailer, but had to do the rounds, inspecting work and answering questions every hour. I was also to start a new high rise building in Philadelphia in a week.

I was seeing a doctor for a hernia and lower back and hip injuries where the car hit me that were not addressed in the emergency room. He said I would be unable to drive for a while. I told my boss I needed some time off. He said I could use two weeks vacation to pack for a move and recover. Kathy was now pregnant with our second son. I was sent to Illinois for a department store building. We were now close to our families in Minnesota and Wisconsin, and we decided to jump ship.

It turned out that I was now over-qualified to work for a small town consulting engineer, but an optical manufactuing and retail company was looking for someone with a technical background to learn the business. They gave me three months to hit the books and pass the necessary tests for certification while the founder supervised my on the job education in all aspects of the business. I would receive less than half my former income, but we were never able to spend all of that with our hectic life, anyway. I had been putting most of my paychecks completely in savings for a year, anticipating a change.

A year and a half later we were transferred to Wiconsin to manage manage a business they had acquired just 100 miles from where I grew up. We searched for a place among the many lakes and hills and found our spot 35 miles west of my job. Commuting the winding hilly roads in my MG Midgets was my escape, not only from another stressful job, but now, sheep farming as well. As I hinted above, the sheep had to go, and profits from their sale allowed us to purchase our first Jaguar, a 1974 XJ6. It had a rebuilt engine and new custom metallic lavender silver paint. It was our daily driver for five years, and our younger son chauffered his brother and bride in it on their wedding day.

In the meantime, I had bought a 1973 XJ12 as a project, it had a little knock when it warmed up, but we took occasionlal drives on the winding roads through the hills and around the many lakes nearby. It still awaits a new life and keeps company with the siver 6 now retired due to a rusty underbody and an olive 74 XJ6 that was purchased mid-restoration as a parts car.

I then took a break from my obsession. Our younger son had graduated from high school and was going away to college, and I was going to be lonely; my tennis partners were beginning new lives and taking their cars that I had given and been maintaining, away from me. I said to Kathy, "We're just young enough to have another child(long pause) or I could back to school and finish a degree?" "You'd better go back to school," she replied. And so I did. Five years later I was still driving the MG's in Summer and Volvos in the winter.

I had just finished a year of graduate school when I was told I needed valve replacement surgery due to a congenital heart murmer. I would need to get good insurance and give up school. I became a substitute teacher; my strong background in math and science was in demand, and I was back among children including a grandson that I was charged with taking care of and entertaining on school holidays and for doctor appointments, since Mom, Dad and Grandma all worked full time. After several years of dealing with health problems from surgery, I returned to full time work. We bought a 97 Miata to celebrate, retired the MG's and got a Hyundai Tiburon for Winter. The following Spring, a trip south revealed to me the notoriously weak Mitsubishi transmission these cars used. My wife spotted a light gold car at a tiny rural car lot on the way home from dinner out to celebrate our 40th anniversary. "Is that a Jaguar?" She asked. We stopped for a look. "Can We buy it?" I applauded her sharp eye, clearly she was a Jag lover by now, and said we'll find out tomorrow.

"Where's all the oil coming from?" I asked, knowing full well it was likely the valve covers. "Don't look under there, look at the the sticker, everything's on there," he replied. "Can't you fix it?" Kathy asked. She was sold! The asking price went down a couple hundred. I was on top now. " Why is the mileage on the odometer 30,000 lower than the mileage on the the window sticker?" I asked. "Because somebody bought it at auction and brought it back two weeks later with 30,000 miles less, I'm honest," he replied. "I reported it and have the last three titles here". A little more dickering, a test drive and further inspection. "Will you drive it to my place; my wife doesn't drive"?

It's been a great car, it now needs a steering rack; I had one here, but it was clearly the wrong one–fulltime power steering, while mine was a late year model with the EVO sensor. None of this was evident in the parts catalogs. In 20177, our Miata was worn out, as we had driven it 112,000 miles in 12 summers. I was suffering from leg cramps due to another obsession: distance running. I had had my eye on XK8's for some time. We bought one from the guy we bought the Tiburon from; "It's too bad about that tranny. Had no idea. I bought this for my wife, but the back seats are too small for the kids already." We test drove it–a little growl when when downshifting to climb the numerous hills around here. If I was hesitant, Kathy was not. The dealer would replace the aerial, cup holder and glove box latch before delivery. When I returned his staff was scratching their heads. I said I would take the plastic and install it myself, showed them how to clean and apply lithium grease to the aerial. I was anxious to take a trip without cramps. A nearby technical college bought the Miata for their racing program. Then I discovered the lake under the back seat and learned why the cat growled when climbing hills.

The fun ended seven years later on a sunny morning at 10:30 when I was driving forty miles to have a thousand dollars worth of new tires mounted. I had been there the previous morning when they were promised, but the warehouse had assumed a typo and sent four 17's and no 18's. At a time when deer are normally sleeping, I came over a hill and saw a fawn crossing far below; I assumed that the mother was far ahead, but knowing there can be a yearling following, I slowed to 40 mph. A giant pickup waited at a side road, and as I went by, the yearling came out from behind it. I hit the brakes and the skid marks showed that the ABS was working. There was no structural or mechanical damage, it didn't get as far as the AC condensor, but it was enough to set off the air bags and destroy the plastic nose ahead of the bumper. I asked the deputies to call a flatbed that I knew would take it to my home. The driver asked if we could stop at the shop, on the way so they could give me
an estimate–$31,400 and change.

We looked at lots of converts over the next year, some for parts and some for drivers with no luck. As summer approached, we looked at Audis and BMW's, but Kathy was having none of it. "They,'re too boxy". I went back to searching, found a 98 XK8; "Perfect with only 70, 000 miles, $7000 firm" we made a date to meet at the garage in Chicago that was holding it for unpaid repairs. The garage was full of high end cars. I was introduced to the garage owner. " I hear you've been looking at BMW's," he said, "Know what that stands for? Break My Wallet; if you know Jaguars that's what you should stick with". We went to look at the XK. Turns out, it hadn't been driven for a long tme. It had been purchased new by a 72 year old man, stored for 13 years when he could no longer drive, then left to his niece a month ago after he had died. She didn't want it. She sold it to a friend, the current owner, with flat tires, locked brakes and non-starting. He had it flat-bedded to this garage he had been using. They replaced the tires, brakes and the fuel pump. In the meantime he lost his job and couldn't pay. They wanted it out of there now! The price dropped to $3500. The car owner came and asked what I thought. I pointed out that it had been stored outdoors: the top had mildew, the trunk lid and hood had oxydation patches, there were wet spots under the lift cylinders and the odometer said 85,000 not 70,000. " But the Carfax said 70–I never even drove it". He held up three fingers. I took time to think; it had no DTC's, there was no paint damage to the windshield frame from a leaking lock cylinder, something I'd found on every other XK I'd looked at, no rust, and a freeway test had found the suspension solid and the drive train quieter than my wrecked 99 had ever been.





That's my current project.
If you're still with me, thanx! Rick Hefko

 

Welcome aboard Rick.

 

Welcome to the Forums.

Well written, and yes, I got to the end.

Good luck mate.

 

welcome to the forum - enjoy!!

 

Welcome to Jaguar Forums Rick,

Good to have you with us.
Enjoy the forum.

If you haven't done so already you should add your car details to your signature to help others to help you.
If you need help with getting around and using the forum follow this link for some help Forum Help

 

Welcome to the forum! I'm in Minnesota, so I know all about the pesky deer problems when driving my cars. Glad to see you're still in the Jag family.

 

Hello, Rick,
Congratulations on your Latest Jaguar!
BTW, you should be a Writer.

Welcome to the forums from ElinorB.
(';')

 

To all for the welcome and kind words!

I was shocked yesterday when my younger son called and said he typed in our last name in a Google search— he teaches English and writes— and up popped my intro with no access limitations. I thought access would be limited to registered members(?). Guess that's why I stick to Firefox and Duck duck go.
Rick

 

Only registered members are allowed to POST, but anyone can access information posted by others.
It's intended to be that way, as this information is useful (and sometimes critically needed) to Jaguar owners world wide.
(';')