The Ford Mustang Comes To The UK - A Mustang Owner Contemplates

The 2015 Ford Mustang will be in UK dealers soon. Chris Small owns a 2005 model and wonders if the right hand drive UK version will be able to retain it's unique Mustang cachet.

2014 Ford Mustang

After a 50 year wait, the first official right hand drive Ford Mustangs are now only months away from landing on UK soil. For decade after decade we have lusted after this American icon and now our wait is almost over. Soon, you’ll be able to walk in to your local Ford dealer, part-ex your Capri and drive out in a brand new car, sporting that legendary pony emblem on its grill. And this is a good thing of course. Isn’t it?

Well, maybe it is, maybe isn’t. You see, I’m just not convinced. I have to make something clear from the outset here; I am a Mustang owner. Currently nestled in my garage, sheltering from the typical English summer rain is a black 2005 GT V8 Coupe. And I adore it. So my opinions of the forthcoming UK car are bound to be somewhat biased to say the least, but please bear with me.

Chris's 2005 Mustang GT V8 Coupe

What makes us so fascinated with Mustangs? Why when we see one in a Hollywood movie do we long to have one so much? And why do people always come over and talk to me when I’m making one of my many trips to the petrol station? Aside from the noise and the general look of it, there are two main, interlinked, underlying reasons. Firstly it’s American and secondly they were never officially sold here.

As a nation of pessimists, weather obsessives, quiet complainers and emotionally reserved individuals, we find anything that comes from across the pond alluring, cool and outlandish in a way that we could never achieve. Factor in the fact that you can’t go to a Ford dealer and buy one and you have a classic case of wanting what you can’t have. Sure there are specialist importers that will bring a Mustang over for you and indeed there are plenty on the used market now. However, to the average Joe in the street, seeing a Mustang invokes all kinds of emotions, topped off with an air of mystery about how the car actually ended up in a sleepy Somerset village in the first place. Ford themselves are clearly well aware of our U.S automotive fixations. A quick glance at the official imagery on the Ford UK website shows the car in a typically non-British setting, reinforcing the American association and glossing over our archaic, narrow, potholed filled byways.

So, fast forward 12 months when dealer forecourts are littered with them and you can’t go five minutes without seeing one, will we still feel the same? Look at it this way, when the first McDonalds restaurant opened in 1974, us Brits couldn’t get enough of this new fangled, glamorous, American fast food that we had heard so much about and seen in the movies. The more we craved the Big Mac, the more outlets opened. I vividly remember the excitement when the brand first came to my home town in Somerset. Queuing up in the rain to be one of the first to try a Big Mac was like waiting in line to taste a slice of America. So, what about now? Is a trip to the Golden M still as exciting and special? Well unless you’re under the age of ten, probably not.

And this is where my concerns lie. Getting my Mustang out of the garage always feels exciting. Firing up that burbly V8 and trickling out on to the main road never ceases to feel special. The cabin (although not the most tactile) looks like no other, the instantly recognisable exhaust note, the profile of the body, it is all quintessentially American. When I look at it parked up in a street next to all the bland euro-mobiles, it makes me feel just a little bit mischievous and ever so slightly naughty. So, what about when there’s a Mustang around every corner? What about then?

Well, after spending a few weeks in California last year, I can tell you exactly what that’s like. Mustangs on the ‘west coast’ are as common as Range Rovers outside a private school in the Cotswolds. They are unsurprisingly everywhere. People don’t bat an eyelid when one goes past, and drivers look as glum as any other motorist who’s stuck in an 8 lane LA traffic jam. It is a BMW 3 series, a Ford Mondeo; it is nothing remarkable.

In reality the new 2015 UK Mustang will probably be a cracking car, I don’t doubt that for a minute. Certainly the all new independent rear suspension is the feature that is grabbing most of the automotive headlines. However, I usually find that those who have the most to say about the outgoing car’s rigid axle draw their information more from Top Gear rather than personal experience. Nonetheless, based on what we know about the new car, it stands every chance of being a great drive.

So, perhaps I’m being unfair. Popularity doesn’t need to be the demise of that magical feeling anyway. Jaguar, for example, are now selling more cars than they ever have done, but that doesn’t make them feel any less special when you get behind the wheel. If Ford have got this right, we could be looking at the most exciting mass market car for a generation. If they’ve got it wrong however, we could be looking at the next Ford Probe; and no one wants that. I just hope that the new car doesn’t do anything to damage the nostalgic affection that we have for one of the most iconic cars of all time.

One final point to note is that the new car will be sold with a built-in burnout mode, that when selected, releases only the rear brakes when you mash the throttle into the carpet. So, at least they haven’t lost their sense of humour. And that bodes well. Very well indeed.

By Chris Small

Tweet

What Jaguar Can Teach Other Car Manufacturers About Marketing - The F-Type: My Turn

“The Ultimate Driving Machine”, “The car you always promised yourself”, “Just like a Golf”. These are all advertising slogans, created to try and convince you to buy a certain make or model of car. But what about Jaguar’s most recent strapline used in their latest F-Type advertising campaign; “Your turn”? 

What do they actually mean by this? One of their most recent TV ads shows an F-Type speeding past a never-ending queue of people. When the car eventually comes to a halt, the chap behind the wheel hops out, throws the keys to the person at the front of the queue and says ‘Your turn”.



It’s as if Jaguar are just offering people joy rides instead of trying for the hard sell. This can’t be what they really mean though, surely? Well, as it turns out, this is exactly what they mean.

I, like may others, often fill out those ‘keep me informed’ or ‘register interest’ sections of a manufacturers website, when swooning over their latest offering. As a general rule, I normally hear nothing more about it, apart from the odd email. Although occasionally I will get some telemarketing type person ring me up and try to take my credit card details for a deposit or enquire about what my cat had for breakfast and when I plan on changing my car.

When I say, “keep me informed”, I mean just that. I’m not saying I want to buy this car, I’m just interested in it. In the case of the F-Type, when I entered my details on Jaguar’s website, I didn’t have the slightest inclination to purchase one. Not because I didn’t want to, but because there was no way I could afford one. Nonetheless, I filled out the form and waited. And waited. No confirmation email, no phone call, no nothing. Not for a month or so anyway.

Meanwhile, planning and organising a wedding, as I’m sure many of you can testify, is one of the most stressful and time consuming things you can ever do. Short of moving house, having a baby and indeed getting divorced, it’s right up there on the list of stuff that takes over your life for a period of time. So when, a very polite gentleman called from Jaguar one weekday evening, just a month before our wedding day, I wasn’t really in the right frame of mind to deal with a telemarketer. However, it turned it out he wasn’t trying to sell me anything or ask me any questions, but to offer me what he called ‘an enhanced test drive’ in an F-Type. This obviously caught my attention and instantly distracted me from all things wedding-like. I wasn’t entirely sure what an enhanced test drive was mind you, but it sounded pretty enticing. Would I like my details to be passed on to my local dealer he asked? “Of course” I replied.

The next day the dealer called me. “Hello Mr Small, we understand you are interested in buying an F-Type.” Alarm bells rang immediately. Under normal circumstances I would have just gone a long with this, but with so many other things on my mind, I couldn’t be bothered. I explained that I wasn’t interested in buying one and that I had been offered an ‘enhanced test drive’ by their Head Office. The salesman sounded a little disheartened, but still asked when I would be able to come in. Now as I say, at the time I was a bit stressed with all things nuptial. I looked at my diary and realised that I didn’t have a free weekend for at least two months. A snap decision led me to tell the salesman not to worry and to forget the whole thing. I apologised for any confusion caused and left it at that.

One wedding and honeymoon later and I’m back at work, as if nothing had ever happened. I then received a couple of voice mail messages from the local Jaguar dealer asking me to call them back. I was tempted, but I didn’t. Then a couple days later I get a call one evening from Jag HQ, querying why I had not yet taken them up on their offer. I was blunt; possibly rude. I explained that I couldn’t afford an F-Type. Nor was I likely to be able to afford one in the near future and that I was merely an enthusiast. To my surprise “that’s neither here nor there” came the response. The chap went on to explain that this was all about getting the car ‘out there’. Getting it seen, getting it talked about and getting it spread across social media. There was no catch. Take the car, use it, do what you want with it. That’s it. It goes without saying that only an idiot would turn down an offer like that.

Off the back of this, I phoned the dealer the next day and made my appointment for the following Saturday. I was told I could pick the car up at 9am and just had to get it back before they closed at five. When the day came, a photocopy was taken of my drivers licence and I was casually chucked the keys for a V6S F-type. I stuck some fuel in it, put the roof down and set off for the coast. I’m not sure how many miles I put on it that day, but it was quite a few. On returning the car (nearly eight hours later), I had a brief, completely unrelated chat, with one of the salesman about American muscle cars, Golf GTis and Porsche Boxsters. I then returned the keys, casually mentioned that I was quite impressed and came home. That was it. No follow ups, no telemarketers, no hassle. Just a day in the car that I have coveted since the concept was unveiled.

I tweeted about it, posted pictures on Facebook, told friends, family and colleagues and now I am writing this piece about it. In essence, I am doing Jaguar’s advertising for them. All they did, was give me a car for the day. I have done the rest. And that Ladies and Gentlemen, is very smart marketing indeed. It’s a great approach and one that should be applauded. They know that the best way to really market a car is to get people talking about it. By offering it, essentially to anyone, that is exactly what is going to happen. Simple.

Oh the car… I suppose I should probably mention what it was like. Especially since I previously wrote a piece about how much it had to live up to.

Well, let’s be honest, it’s been reviewed to death hasn’t it? We’ve all read about the handling, the performance, the noise and the tiny boot. So I’ll just say this. If you’re the kind of person who likes a well mannered sports car, with impeccable handling, more thrust than you could ever need and a soundtrack from the Gods; what ever your expectations are, it will exceed them all. In every single way. Apart from the boot.

By Chris Small

Tweet

Speeding - The worst offender

Chris Small discusses inappropriate, and mindless, speeding

These days, to lots of people, trying to discuss the rights and wrongs of breaking the speed limit is about as popular as trying to discuss the pros and cons of Japanese whaling, but speeding as we all know and regretfully appreciate can be dangerous. There will be many who like to quote various statistics about how other driving faults cause the majority of accidents on our roads and that the speeders always get the brown end of the stick. But much as these people can wax lyrical all they like, it is an undeniable fact that speed kills. However, it’s not quite as straightforward as that.

There are many different types of speeders on our highways and not all of them are responsible for the accidents that are subsequently caused. I know that many incidents are primarily down to dangerous driving, but I’m only talking about those that occur as a direct result of going too fast. For example some may say the business man who is late for his meeting is the one most likely to have a prang. Others might suggest that it’s the 17 & 18 year olds flying around our town centres at night on a mission to severely damage their parents no claims bonus.

Then there are the sports car owners who like nothing better than going through their favourite complex of corners kissing every apex with an occasional touch of Pirelli protest. Then of course there’s the white van man who likes to demonstrate that his Mercedes Sprinter is the fasted thing on the M6, bar-none. Lets be honest, even a Veyron may struggle to keep up with a Sprinter. 308 Cdi? 308HP I reckon. Anyway, we digress. In my opinion none of the aforementioned groups are the most hazardous when it comes to breaking the law of the road. Why? Because for all their faults and irresponsibility, in the main, they are fully aware that they are going faster than perhaps they should. The real danger on our roads are those drivers that are blissfully unaware of the fact that they are going twice as fast as they should be.

This eureka moment came to me only a couple of evenings ago when I attempted to overtake the silver Honda Jazz that I always catch up on my way home from the office. By all accounts both he and I leave work at the same time. Moreover, it appears that he lives out in the sticks as well, as our paths always seem to cross on the daily journey back to the depths of deepest darkest Somerset.

Normally, I catch him up in exactly the same place, a nice clear straight where there is rarely anything coming the other way. It’s always the same. I’m doing the legal limit, 60 in this case, and he’s doing 40. Sometimes, if I time it right, I don’t even have to lift. I just check the road is clear, pull out and carry on. But, I’ve noticed of late that the driver appears not to be too impressed by this, as demonstrated by a fine selection of hand signals gesticulated in my general direction, combined with an erratic flashing of the lights. Well, two nights ago, I caught him up just after the straight and much to my annoyance I realised I would be behind him for the next half an hour.

As I sat there at bang on 40 staring at the back of the un-shapely Jazz I was imagining what conversation he was probably having to himself as he periodically glared at me in the mirror. “It’s a speed limit, not a target,” I heard him saying in a typically nasal tone. “You won’t get there any quicker” etc. However, what I then witnessed just about summed this character up as one of the most dangerous people ever to be put in charge of a motor vehicle.

We bumbled along in the 60 zone at a steady 40 for what felt like a lifetime, until we came into one of the small villages on the route. This is a village I know well. There’s a little primary school on one side of the road and a park on the other. Then there’s the obligatory village shop and a couple of pubs. In addition, there are frequently an abundance of cars parked in the most random spots. As I dropped down to the mandatory 30 miles per hour, Jazz-man started to get away from me. That’s right, you guessed it, he was still doing his designated 40. Now I don’t remember Honda setting the Jazz up to only travel at one preset speed, but maybe this passed me by. By the time I had left the village he was nowhere to be seen, I assumed he must have turned off, but no. After a few minutes of travelling at 60, I caught him up again, just in time to watch him disappear into another 30 zone at the same fixed speed. I slowed down again, but again by the time I was back on to the de-restricted highway he was gone. And I didn’t catch him up this time.

This guy is undoubtedly one of the most dangerous drivers I have seen for quite some time. He had no respect for the speed limit in anyway, shape or form. However, and here’s the really scary bit, I suspect he didn’t even know what it was. He probably just travels everywhere at 40 miles per hour, regardless of his surroundings and conditions. This is someone who at some point will be involved in a serious accident. It’s not a case of ‘if’, but when. Driving passed a school at home time or maybe a town centre pub at kicking out time. Well ok, maybe not that one, I can’t imagine he’s out and about wreaking havoc at that time of night, but you get the idea. It’s this collective of idiots who, in my mind, are public enemy number one.

I like spirited driving as much as the next car-nut, but I am always very conscious of what’s going on around me. I’m not saying that the business man who’s late for a meeting is any less irresponsible, but he knows he’s speeding, as does the sports car owner who goes out playing on his favourite B-roads on a Sunday morning. If you are fully aware and alert to what is going on around you, you stand a much better chance of being able to react quickly if you need to. If you are bumbling along in a dream however, and a child steps out from behind a parked car are you going to react in time to avoid disaster? Well, if you don’t even know how fast you are going or what the speed limit is, I would say probably not.

Tweet

Ford Capri Laser 2.0 review

Recently I’ve heard a lot of talk from various motoring hacks about a cars penchant and ability to drift and indeed its relevance has been called into question. This has already been heavily thrashed out on assorted forums so I’m not about to get into that particular debate. However, as well as this and the usual horsepower / torque attributes I think there is another even more unquantifiable quality to be recognised; and that is how a car makes you feel.

Now you may (and probably will) mock, but if your car doesn’t make you feel happy or special, then it becomes a mere machine. Without some kind of emotional connection you cannot claim to be truly at one with your wheels. If someone were to damage your pride & joy, you would probably want to hunt them down and flog them, but that’s not because of how it drifts or how many ponies it’s got, its because you have built up a personal bond with it. I used to own a Jaguar XK8 to which I formed no attachment to at all. One day someone ran up the back of it. All I was concerned about was getting their insurance details and what kind of courtesy car I would get. Whereas when I spectacularly wrapped up my old Jaguar XJS many years ago, I cried myself to sleep.

As another example, I recently had the pleasure of driving a 1985 Ford Capri. Not a 2.8i or a Tickford turbo, just a standard 2.0L Laser. It wasn’t quick, it handled like a canal boat and creaked and groaned like a Victorian boiler, but the more I drove it the more I loved it. A technical tour de force it most certainly wasn’t. The only drift it could muster had to be induced by a very wet roundabout and lots of forward planning. 

However, even though I was only in its company for a couple of hours, I immediately bonded with it. I was quite happy just trickling along at gentle speeds and admiring the massive bonnet. Why did it have this effect? It was a car with character, personality and charm by the bootload. And these qualities can often make up for a lack in performance or other dynamic short comings.

It’s also other people’s reactions to the Capri that make you smile and give you a warm glowing feeling inside. As we drove through a busy town centre I lost count of how many people turned to look. The thing is though; this was a look of fondness and affection that you don’t get when driving a Supercar. Moreover, that feeling radiates in through the glass and warms the cockles of your heart. OK, maybe I’m sounding a bit soft now, but when you experience it, you’ll know exactly what I mean.

The chap who owns this particular car has a fine collection of much more powerful machinery and yet he’s previously told me that he enjoys driving the Capri more than any of his other toys. Having driven it myself I can now understand why. There’s just something about it that you can’t quite put your finger on. It makes no real sense to anyone but you and yet somehow you don’t feel the need to justify it. I think it’s to do with charm over power and character over substance. You find yourself becoming emotionally attached to a car like this for no good reason. All of it's idiosyncrasies and fables are easily forgivable simply because it makes you happy.

Now granted, if I wanted to have a serious palm sweating blast across the mountain roads of North Wales, the Capri would be the last thing I would take. But as a true car enthusiast, performance, power and dynamism sometimes just isn’t what you need. The real joy of driving is making that magical connection between man and machine and that in itself doesn’t necessarily require oodles of horsepower.

We all want certain things from our cars and life would be very dull indeed if we all wanted the same thing. In our fantasy garages we have certain cars to tick certain boxes, but I’d suggest that the next time you’re compiling a list of lottery purchases, you leave a space for something like a Capri. Something that regardless of how much (or little) power it has, it makes you feel good.

Words: Chris Small

Pics: Lee Stutt

Tweet

Driven - Ford Sierra Sapphire Cosworth

The Ford Sierra Sapphire Cosworth is a tricky car to pigeon-hole. I can’t think of any other car that has portrayed so many different images over the years. Or any other car that currently appears so uncomfortable in its own skin. Much like a middle aged man who is torn between hanging on to the remains of youth or embracing his age with dignity, it doesn’t really know what it is.

The Sierra was already one of the most common sights on UK roads when the Sapphire Cosworth came along in 1988. It was touted as a modern day Lotus Cortina by many and for the most part, it was.

Ford Sierra Sapphire Cosworth

It was respected for being yet another example of what Ford can do when they put their mind to it; make a fast, affordable version of an existing model that will make owners of lesser versions feel inadequate. But, things quickly took a turn for the worst when it became the ultimate car of choice for your common or garden ‘tea-leaf’.

They were nicked, used as getaway cars and also featured in the occasional ram-raid. Subsequently, insurance premiums went stratospherically skyward and unless you kept it hidden under your mattress, you had to accept that there was a good chance someone was going to relieve you of your pride & joy. I know of one person who bought one and then sold it later the same day! He had so many undesirables hanging around his house when he brought it home that he figured there was no point keeping it. Overtime though the dregs of society got bored with the Cosworth (or got banged up) and moved on. So, then came the next phase.

As with many ‘hot’ Fords, eventually the values on the ropey ones dropped low enough for the Max Power brigade to get their grubby little mitts on them. Cue massively oversized wheels, body kits, quad exhausts etc. This harmed the cars image even more. I’ll admit there is something slightly cool about driving a car commonly associated with doing bank jobs (take the Mk2 Jag for example), but who wants to be seen driving something that implies you haven’t evolved enough to lift your knuckles from the floor. But a few, more discerning owners were happy to bide their time safe in the knowledge that all the abused examples would soon end up wrapped around assorted trees and lamp-posts. Sure enough numbers diminished at a rate of knots with many cars suffering a painful and undignified death. Fast forward past the midlife crisis and here we are.

The car that I am driving today is 23 years old and is a mere two years away from official Classic Car status. Sadly however, something’s still not quite right with its image, something I can’t quite put my finger on. This particular example is one that escaped both the clutches of the ‘boy-racers’ and the armed robbers. It’s been with its current owner for 14 years and has covered just 13,000 miles in that time. Apart from a couple of sympathetic under the skin upgrades, the car is pretty much standard. Yet, driving it through a bustling town centre I suddenly become aware that nobody even gives it a second glance. This struck me as very odd. Why is no one interested in this super-saloon of yesteryear? After pondering this for a minute, I concurred that it must be because, to the uninitiated, it looks much like any other Sapphire you’re likely to see. But, that can’t be right, because when was the last time you saw a Sierra of any description? Think about this for a minute. I haven’t seen one for ages; they’ve more or less all vanished. So, why didn’t it attract any attention? Well, to be honest I think it’s because it hasn’t quite reached the full-on classic status currently enjoyed by its older 3dr brother. What’s more, as it doesn’t have any massive wings or huge wheels, it just blends into the background. That’s obviously a big plus for Q-Car fans, but it does make me wonder how long it will take before someone points at it in nostalgic excitement.

Out on the main road the Cosworth doesn’t initially feel anymore like a classic than it does a super-saloon. It rides well, it’s comfortable, it’s easy to drive and everything else is very unremarkable. That is until you go to overtake something. Drop a couple gears, hit 3,000rpm and nail the throttle to the floor and all hell brakes loose. Granted this car has had a stage 1 chip fitted, but all the same the in-gear acceleration is devastatingly fast by any standards. The backend squats down with remarkable force and even in the dry it takes a considerable amount of concentration to maintain the traction. No sooner have you received a full kick in the base of your spin, you’re going for the next gear. The pace you acquire without realising it is staggering. You think that the old girl pulls pretty well, then you look at the dials and realise you’re heading for a prison sentence. What also comes as a surprise is just how composed the chassis is. So much so, you actually forget what you’re driving and just get on with it. It’s only when you back off to catch your breath that you remember that this car is 23 years old. Granted it’s a quite a raw experience, but it does highlight how anesthetised some modern performance cars can feel. It also reminds you of how hard you have to work to keep these things on boost, but that’s all part of the fun. I would defy anyone to drive one of these cars without grinning like a child. It just somehow brings out your inner hooligan.

Forgotten Q-Car, future classic or yesterdays hero, call it what you want, but the Sierra Sapphire Cosworth is still one of the all time greats. What worries me though is the thought that we are going to wake up one morning to discover that they have all gone; and none of us would’ve even noticed. And that would be a great shame.

Article by Chris Small

Pictures by Lee Stutt

Tweet

Hopes & Fears: The Jaguar F-Type

So, the long awaited F-type is nearly here. After decades of speculation and red-herring concepts the most important Jag for nearly 40 years will be on sale very soon. And this troubles me. In fact I woke up this morning thinking about it. Don’t misunderstand me, I love the Jaguar marque and everything it stands for. I’ve personally owned an XJS and an XK, and the current XKR-S is a thing of wonder that I desperately long for. However, I can’t help but think that Jaguar are being exceptionally brave with this forthcoming addition to the range and I pray that it doesn’t diminish their recent return to favour.

The whole idea of an ’F-Type’ is a carrot that has been dangled in front of us for a very long time. Ever since the ‘Oh, is that it?’ response from the general public and motoring press alike at the unveiling of the XJS in 1975, we as a collective have been begging Jaguar to make a proper successor to the E-Type. We have been teased and taunted with assorted concepts, sketches and rumours which have kept the dream alive that one day, maybe, just maybe Jaguar might finally build the F-Type of our dreams. Now correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s some pretty high expectations to live up to. Not only has the car got to compete with its peers, but also with our own fantasies of what we think it should be. Anything short of absolute perfection is going to be a disastrous let down.

Jaguar F-Type

Certainly the styling is on the money, I don’t dispute that. It is simply stunning. Design boss Ian Callum has previously said that not only has he been waiting 50 years to make this car, but that the E-Type legacy was also a ‘cloud over his head’. With that in mind, I’m sure all the chiefs at JLR are bracing themselves for the obvious comparisons regardless of whether they deem them to be justified. But, no matter how much they preach that this is a Jag for the modern age; boasting lightweight agility at the forefront of its rap sheet, the people want one thing and one thing only; an E-Type for our generation.

The first hurdle that the ‘F’ has to leap is that of the Boxster & Cayman (and to a degree the 911). I drove a new Cayman S last year and aside from the fact that nobody would let me out of any junctions, I found it to be one of the most rewarding cars I had ever driven. So that in itself is a serious accolade to contend with. But we don’t just want a Porsche beater, do we? No, we want something that will out handle and perform anything that Germany has to offer in this class, whilst still retaining that classic intangible Jag experience. Oh, and we’d like it all for under 60 grand please. Can it really be done? Well, we will have to wait and see, but I just hope that they have made the right decision not only in building this car, but in giving it ‘that’ name. If they had chosen to call it something else, then much of this E-Type nonsense could’ve probably been avoided.

Like with anything in life that you are looking forward to, the build-up, hype and expectation is often better than the actual event itself. My main concern is that the F-Type could turn out to be the equivalent of the anti-climax that is Christmas day and New-Years eve all rolled into one. At least if they held off building it, we would still have something to look forward to. But now that it is definitely coming, I’m very nervous indeed. Don’t forget that the first still born F-Type later went on to become the Aston Martin DB7. It was a beautiful thing sure, but it was still a car not without its foibles. Soon we will know for sure if they have hit the jackpot this time, but until then the world expects. Don’t let us down Jag. We’re depending on you.

Article by Chris Small

Tweet