Jag Ramblings – part 2

Jaguar that I have owned and loved, 2nd edition Ok, let's see... where was I? Oh yeah. I was writing about my old days with the club, before I met my wife... Little Cindy, back then. Anyway, she still remembers that I used to take my old '61 and ‘62 Es… separately and in different years… deer hunting over near Rose Tower, OK. Some people jes’ got no class. You had to be careful, or you would bottom out on the logging roads... and that would have been bad... but I just didn't know any better... I guess. Cindy also remembers that I used to have an old VW car top carrier... that fit perfectly on all of my previous five E's. I've carried luggage, ladders, plywood... and timbers up there. Like I said... some people just don’t know class. But… those Es were my ONLY form of transportation... I had to make them double duty. But… just for the drill... at one time or another… I had a '61 coupe' in a kind of light brown color... but three months later…it caught fire on the way home from a naughty bar, then I found that '62 coupe'... but it burned motor oil like a Chrysler, and me, Dad, Doc Able, and Herb Grossman could not change that fact on a rebuild… so then… on me and Little Cindy’s first date, we picked up that primrose, ’67 2+2 that I had purchased earlier in the week... that was fine, but then… a few months later, Ken Sykes told me about that fawn V-12 2+2 with the electric sun roof from Vegas… and what a great deal it was, so I just had to have it next. OK, so three years later… Cindy is expecting our second son, and there is NO way in hell of fitting that second car seat in the back of a 2+2, our only family sedan… so we decide get a Mark II... from Southbend, Indiana. It was OK, but I am an E type sort of guy… and low and behold, I found another really, really, good deal, on yet... another, gorgeous, midnight blue, '71 V-12 E... but fatherhood was in full swing… Cindy was really fertile, and there was a quick grand to be made... so I just had to let that beautiful… midnight blue E… go. It was the prettiest Jag yet, but it was… alas… expendable.

Oh yeah, earlier, I was also talking about the pitiful brakes on my current 69’ E, "All That Jazz", or just plain Jazz. . The car was names after the neighbors white cat, with one blue and one green eye decided to move into our garage with the neighbor’s blessing. Anyway, two or three months ago, Scott Young told me that he thought the guys at White Post, in Virginia, had probably already rebuilt Jazz's slave cylinder for a previous owner, and that maybe they may not have actually corrected the problem, so on the 25th dismantling of my girl, Jazz, I sent the original slave cylinder back to White Post... along with a pocketful of cash. A week later, upon receipt of my slave back from White Post, I re-assembled Jazz. Let’s see, that must have been for the 22nd time on the brakes. So, while the brakes were actually better, in that you could not actually push the brake pedal all the way to the floor, you still had to pump the brakes... in order to stop.

Anyway, that all happened, prior to my previous rambling. But, since that earlier rambling, Scott suggested that maybe I should remove the slave cylinder from "The Roach"... install it on Jazz... and, for the 23rd time… while repeating the 23rd Psalm… bleed the brakes. I would have included prayer beads, but I was busy… and starting to lose my concentration. Anyway, The Roach's slave cylinder did actually work well in the garage… so I re-assembled the car for the 26th time... if you are losing count, I did not actually work on the brakes… EVERYTIME… that I have taken that girl apart. It was Sunday, and I was so excited… I decided to take the car for a spin to show off the old, but actually working brakes to my friend Scott Young. That was probably a really bad idea. The brakes worked well up until I got to about 81st & Elm... in Broken Arrow, … when I started to notice a strange burning odor... as well as see the smoke starting to come from out from both front wheel wells. I am miles from home, and about the best mechanic, I know is about a mile from where I am heading... what do you think I'm gonna do? That’s right, I go like hell to Scott & Linda's... max speed available from the E is about 15, and low and behold, nobody's home... except Eddy and Sarge... a lot of help they are gonna give me. Sarge thinks I’m dinner and Eddy thinks I am a dork. I wait around a while... no tools... of course... the front brakes are completely seized-up and the car WILL NOT MOVE... so in an attempt to NOT irritate my wife Cindy further... AGAIN by riding the Allied Tow Truck home, I call my son Travis to come get me at Scott & Linda's... thinking that sometime later in the week, Scott will have another grand suggestion. GOD,,, I really do need some help. Later in the week, Scott and I tried several other things... I hesitate to call them repairs, but we discovered that no matter what, as soon as one of us hit the brakes... the front calipers completely locked up... AGAIN. By now, this is really getting old for both of us. We tried to rig the brakes where only the backs would work... that didn't work. We tried to rig the brakes where only the fronts would work... that didn't work. A couple of days later, I called the wrecker... one more time. State Farm is starting to get a little tender about my using the same wrecker every time. I think they suspect that I own Allied’s stock.

OK, so next, I send my original slave cylinder back to White Post to have them test and see if there is any reason why I am having these difficulties. I got it back last week... with a note that they did not find anything amis. All right… so I started again this week...dismantling the car... for the 27th time... I'm not sure where this is going, but I think that I'm either going to try putting my original slave… returned from White Post, back into Jazz, or get a kit and then trying to convince Scott to rebuild the Roach's old slave for me... at least I know that it worked for a short while… which is more than I know about my own, rebuilt by White Post. Oh yeah, remind me to tell you about the gas tank… the windscreen wipers, and the business about getting into a bonnet that WOULD NOT OPEN. Oh, yeah… that is where we all met Mike Webb... our new friend with the red coupe’… containing a foreign power plant, but let’s not talk about that... yet.

Rogers FIRST Jaguar was an E-Type coupe (see photo>)