Wed, 22 Oct 1997

Channel IX - Tales of Glory and one little hiccup...

We're back! - and what a great back it is too!

Where shall I start? - at the beginning? - alright then. Pull up the comfy chair and charge your glasses - this is a biggy...

Saturday - glorious sunshine with a couple of showers, the IX went in and out of the garage to keep the rain off! The chrome was buffed up to perfection (apart from the underlying rust spots breaking through) and the radiator came up a real treat. The jumping jaguar received much care and a good rubbing, removing many years of crud from his (her? - what gender is it? - there's a good topic for us!) armpits and nether regions.

The paintwork, two-tone grey, (not a good respray but it has lasted 25 years over the original black) came up so-so but it did have a shine. The can of elbow grease was almost empty by the end of these endeavours.

I digress - I have told you most of this already...

Sunday morning - Rally Day! - I had set the alarm for 6:30 - we needed to be up and at 'em ready to roll at 8:00 for the 20 minute journey to The Domain in Central Auckland. I woke of course at 5:30, the body clock obviously had been unconsciously set into "worry" mode... One of the cats jumped on the bed as I squinted out through the window.

AAARRGHHH! the cats was W E T! - gloom set in quickly as I imagined wet carpets, leaks around the windshield, the chrome looking dull and dirty and the car rolling up with mud spattered down her flanks. She was safe and dry in the garage now, but once we took her out... oh no!

John was not quite so keen to leap out and get worked up about the rain and had a bit of a lie in while I rushed around, forgetting all the things I had remembered to do the night before. Tools, oil, tranny fluid, water, clothes, pens, camera, films everything! the rain! - umbrellas, gumboots!, raincoats! heavens! we'll need a trailer...

A couple of cups of tea later we settle down to watch the rain falling from the sky like the spray from Niagara Falls. The weather forecast was not helpful - "North-Westerlies, heavy rain, gales, turning South West, rain and more gales". We nipped back and forth to the car filling her up with those myriad bits and pieces that always fall under the seats, maps, pens, clips, cheque books and those old envelopes with phone numbers on the back but no name...

It came close to "chocks away". Tick tick tick, press the black button and vrooom! she starts up like she has been waiting for just this day. We ease her out into the rain. The droplets bounce off her polished skin and dribble away. Through the gates and we give her a bit of stick up the road - to hell with the rain we're off to have fun!

Windscreen wipers splishing splashing, we cruise down the motorway into town. Halfway there I spy an Austin 90 convertible (crazy styling!!) in the mirror coming onto the highway, a white rally plate showing up through the road spray. At least two of us have the right day!

Then a loud parp! parp!; alongside us a stunning red E-type which then roars away with hands waving out the windows. Our spirits lift as we decide not to burn it off in a race(!)

We arrive at the entrance to the Domain - a 40 acre park in central Auckland - we are greeted by a Jaguar umbrella sitting on top a pair of gumbooted legs - "Morning sirs" it says - "Jaguars over to the left please". We park in a line of IIs, Ss, E-types, a MkV, a '34 SSII, a couple of 420Gs, a sprinkling of Daimler V8s and an XK8. This being my first rally I am all over the place looking at the other cars but trying to keep cool and park the IX graciously like we've being doing it for years.

Within two seconds we have sveral people at our doors "oohh, aaahh" they say - "so this the IX, we saw it on the list - new members aren't you?" We chat away with the other Jaguar nuts all the time sticking our umbrellas into eyes, heads and hats. The E-type which overtook us is next door - the owner is from out our way. "I've seen you around" he says "you've been up and down the highway a lot recently" - we regale him with our woes of certification and registration and receive murmurs of "poor sods" and "it's not fair" etc etc.

There is time before the official welcome by the Mayor and other big-knobs to wander amongst the assembled pulchritude of British motor engineering. The Jags are all in a nice row near the bandstand. The "other" (!) makes are off to one side parked along one of the park side roads. We gaze at 1935 Humbers, a Nash Metropolitan (the first car I ever saw with a cigar lighter!), a 1914 AC, a '22 Roller, Rover P5B's, a whole gaggle of Morrie Minors, two gorgeous (or so John thinks) Daimler '53 sports dropheads in matching maroon and silver two-tone; Super Snipes, Hawks, a 63 PA Vauxhall, a Zodiac Estate, Sunbeam Talbots, a crutch of Morgans, TR4s, Morris 8s, Austin Sevens, 6 Stags, a '50 Hillman, Rileys, Wolseleys, Armstrong Diddeley Sapphires, an Austin Sheerline and loads loads more - such a tremendous sight - and all those umbrellas! the rain is sheeting across the park horizontally...

The crowds are called to the bandstand and we listen eagerly for the "To your cars" words but are disappointed. The sponsors all have their say, the Mayor has his say, the wife of the British High Commissioner has her say (but very graciously) and more! Dinah Sheridan one of the stars of "Genevieve" is here - she is 76 and gets the loudest applause. Finally we are asked to go to our cars. Three zillion people then crush together to avoid the muddy park grass! The hosts swan off in their DS420 limo (it 'swishes' by beautifully) followed by the roller and a line of late model XJs and a Roveronda (or is that a Hondover?)

We ease out into the line of Jaguars, which, of course, are first in the line up to leave! The rain has eased and a glint of sun appears; there is quite a crowd on the road side - we wave royally...

The boring bit of the journey starts - 40km of motorway - heading South. Water falls out of the sky again with renewed vigour - the wipers are switched into hyper-speed but do little. We manage to keep up our image and do not pull over as some do - a couple of baby Austins which somehow left before us are now sitting on the hard shoulder of the motorway looking like drowned rats, waiting for a break in the downpour. And the wind starts up! - - a rollicking gale! (later we heard that two factory roofs have blown off in the city). These skinny 6.5inch cross-ply tyres are so original but oh so wretched to steer in a cross wind!

As we near the end of the motorway, the rain eases once more. The fuel gauge for the port tank now cannot be seen as it blurs past the scale, dropping like lighting towards zero - zounds - we had forgotten that 3.8 litres needs 3.8 X 10 to the power of international telephone numbers in litres of petrol... The starboard tank is switched in - a reassuring "full" is indicated. At last the end of the motorway and we start the real journey through undulating countryside - well we know it is undulating but can't see much of it! Every now and again I pull out the wheel to let John wipe the windscreen with the chammy leather. Oh Bill, this terrible demister system!

After about 10 minutes we start to climb a moderately steep hill. There is a passing lane and a couple of E's and a Coombes MKII (in a puky primrose colour yecchh!) roar past us.

The engine stutters - oh no oh no oh no OH NO!!!!! stomachs turn to jelly - knees tremble - I flick her into speed hold - the stutters worsen and the revs drop away almost to 1000...

Will we make it up the hill? Does Bill's name get taken in vain? Will the Jaguar Mk IX name be forever embarrassing? Is there a doctor in the rally?

Tune in next time for more in this saga...

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Channel IX

Saloons

MK VII-IX