What happens when an executive gets fed up with the Company Jag??

HAVING a brand new Jaguar X-type on the driveway gives your 14-year-old son plenty of street cred.
He was the kid whose dad had a Jag – and he was happy.
Then I dropped the bombshell on him: “I’m thinking of swapping the car,” I remarked casually over tea.
“What for?” he asked, “a BMW or a Merc?”
“No, a Ford actually.”
“A Ford??” I detected a note of alarm in his voice. “A Ford what?”
“A Ford Capri,” I said.
“Never heard of it – is it a new model or something?”
“No, the one I’m looking at is about 17 years old.”
By now panic was setting in – I could see it in his eyes. “You’re saying you’re getting rid of a brand new Jag in favour of some crappy old Ford? Well don’t do it, dad . . . because if you do, I’ll never want taking anywhere in it.”
Great, I thought. Another reason to buy it.
So where HAD the idea come from? Simple really. For years I had driven round in comfortable, fast but ultimately bland and boring new company cars. Yet I had spent my leisure time going to classic car shows and reading classic car magazines.
The company I work for had been trying to entice people to give up their company vehicles – and were offering a reasonable cash alternative to those who did.
When I added that to all the tax I would be saving, I reckoned I’d have quite a bit of money each month to run a car.
Some people I worked with had taken the money option and spent £5000 or so on a newish second hand hatchback – but that wasn’t for me. I wanted something classic and fast that I could use as an everyday car.
I’d had a new Capri back in 1985 (a company car actually). It was a 2.0 Laser in a deep burgundy colour and of all the company cars I’d ever had, that one had given me the greatest buzz when I’d picked it up.
But all the time I’d had it, I’d gazed enviously at the 2.8 injection – my dream car, but always out of my reach. ‘One day’, I thought, ‘one day . . .’
Eighteen years later and here I was thinking to myself ‘do you remember the car you always promised yourself?’
Flicking through a classic car mag I saw that a dealer called Affordable Classics in Essex had a couple of 2.8 injections for sale. I rang the owner, Roger, who said both had been sold . . . but was I interested in a 280 Brooklands he had just got in?
A 280!!! My heartbeat literally quickened. He said he wanted good money for it because it was in absolute mint condition with just 40,000 miles on the clock.
I said what he was asking was more than I wanted to pay, but I’d think about it.
That was a Friday night. By the time I went to bed I’d decided to do the four-hour drive to Essex the next morning to take a look at it.
Six a.m. I was up and ready for the off – and more than a little astonished to find the aforementioned son Jack waiting for me in the kitchen (he never usually surfaces much before 10).
“If you’re going to look at this Ford Crappy, or whatever it’s called, I’m coming with you,” he informed me.
By 10am we were cruising into Great Yeldham and onto the forecourt of Affordable Classics.
I spotted the 280 straight away – the crouching stance, the long bonnet . . . a vision in Brooklands green, and probably only the second one I could ever remember seeing.
Jack meanwhile was scanning the assortment of Cortinas, Zephyrs and Prefects with a growing look of dismay. Then he caught sight of the Capri: “Is that it?” he asked in a tone that was a curious mixture of relief and reluctant admiration.
After an hour of walking round it, crawling under it and reading through the history, it was time for the test drive.
I got behind the wheel, with Roger in the passenger seat and Jack in the back. I knew the car had been fitted with an expensive stainless steel exhaust system, but nothing had prepared me for the beautiful noise I was about to hear.
It burbled, it throbbed – that glorious beefy 2.8 litre V6, playing its music through an ensemble of pipes that even Jeremy Clarkson would have been happy to conduct.
A glance in the rearview mirror revealed my son fighting to keep the look of delight off his face. “God, it sounds like a TVR,” he said.
The test drive was a blast down memory lane. The car was noisy, it was bumpy, it pulled like a train in every gear – and I loved it.
We got back, parked up, I climbed out, walked about 20 paces, turned and looked back at it. And at that moment I knew I had to have it.
The price was knocked down, a deposit left, and we glided home in the superbly efficient, but now even less interesting Jaguar.
Two weeks later (again accompanied by Jack) we caught two trains and two tubes, were met at Braintree by Roger in a Mklll Cortina 2000 GXL and driven back to his place.
I handed over the balance, and we burbled home to Stockport via the M1 and the fabulous A57 Snake Pass between Sheffield and Glossop.
And the Jag? That’s gone back – and I’ve never given it a second thought.
The only problem now is that Jack is so taken with his car I’m giving more lifts than ever . . . usually with two of his mates in the back!

Comment by Dr B - This seems to confirm that even in these late days of the Capri 280 - there is a move towards driving what you feel good in rather than what convention tells you to. It's a matter of time before we have to consider the cost of even getting the 280 out of the garage for a trip to the newspaper shop - so while only 40% of your disposable income goes on motor fuel why not enjoy the retro-luxury of a Capri 280. Once driven forever smitten (yes I know, I know Vauxhall had that first but who cares - 'am I bovered?, I'm not bovered.......)

The test is this - when you walk away from your company car do you ever look back at it? Or when returning do you itch to see it parked and waiting for you? If the answer is nah - then try a Capri 280 - works everytime for me and others who've discovered one of life's great secrets.