Big cat’s little cat…
The X-Type is a fine car - just not special enough.
I’ve always been a bit of a Jag man. Maybe it’s the lovable spiv image Arfur gave the XJ series, maybe it’s the villains in the Sweeney on their way to a blag, maybe it’s even the real-ale drinking crossword lover Inspector Morse. But something about owning, driving, or even admiring a Jaguar from afar has always appealed to me. Even the ‘pretend’ Jag that is an X-Type holds some appeal for me – it looks fairly good from most angles and from countless trips as a passenger I know they go well.
My only real criticisms of the X-Type from a passenger’s perspective are a slightly jiggly ride – it feels unsettled unless the surface is billiard-table smooth – and that my six foot three frame doesn’t like folding into the back. But the latter’s always been a flaw in Jags – twice in the XJ’s history a long wheelbase model has had to be introduced to combat dissatisfaction with the standard car’s rear legroom, and I’m freakishly built by most people’s standards anyway. From an ownership perspective – we’ve had a Y plate 2.5SE at Chateau Skelton since 2008 – there’s less to excite. In that time it has refused to start twice, due we think to a sticking starter motor. The electrics are also a touch on the duff side – headlights switching themselves on and off at random, and a mysterious battery drain from somewhere that diagnostic tests have thus far failed to find. The trim niggles and rattles also do not become what when new was a thirty thousand pound conveyance. One of the door cards even fell off, though I doubt Jaguar built it that way.
Admittedly it’s not on a par with a Series 3 XJ or a MK2, but my favourite thing about this car is the smell on a warm day. It’s like a cross between Lovejoy’s living room and a shoe shop – the smell of wood (sadly not burr walnut, but maple) and leather is quite heady. The boot’s quite big too – easily big enough to transport the scum that don’t pay their protection money in time to the local abattoir. For such a committed XJ lover as myself, it seems a poor way to lose one’s Jag virginity. But it’s a car I’m not averse to, and I’ve been offered the chance to try it. Could I really refuse?
Hop behind the wheel, and contrary to my expectations there’s no huge sense of occasion. The green dials help, but it just feels like any other largish modern car. Stick the J-gate into D, and after a brief issue caused by it’s design – it didn’t want to engage – I was moving. I had to re-check the steering wheel badge. This car feels decidedly like a Rover 800 from behind the wheel. That’s by no means a bad thing – my love of the 800 is well documented here and on other sites, and they’re fingertip light and smooth to drive. I just expected… more.
I always hate saying an experience is disappointing. It is, to my mind, the most damning word in the English language. I don’t object to describing experiences as hateful, horrid, disgusting, or vomit-inducing because that’s all a matter of opinion. To come away from an experience disappointed is less clear-cut. It doesn’t mean the experience is something you didn’t enjoy – which is a matter of taste. It means that your expectations were not achieved, and in a market sector where image is everything, it’s not really good enough. I can’t say anything negative about the X-Type as a driver’s tool or as a mode of transport; it’s so like one of my favourite cars that I love it – and although a little Jag is somewhat Hyacinth Bucket in concept it’s reasonably well executed. But I am dismayed that it felt so ordinary. I sincerely hope that the XJ doesn’t leave me similarly cold, or a dream will be totally shattered.
But as I’ve said, it’s not all bad. If you’re looking for a medium sized car that’s fairly plush, fairly quick, nice to drive, and isn’t an Audi, BM, or Merc, then you’ll not regret your purchase. Just don’t expect a proper Jaguar.
