When someone goes on a journey (adventurous transfer of a Jaguar E-Type)
10/20/2018
Surprisingly, we were the successful bidder for a Jaguar E-Type S1 4.2 lt Coupé. So we had the pleasant task of transferring the car to Switzerland. Simone and I - experienced in such transfers - were looking forward to a drive from England to Switzerland.
We had the foresight to pack only the most necessary spare parts and tools in our luggage, as we classified the car as highly original, completely untouched and unwelded, simply repainted and fitted with a new interior.
So Simone prepared fuel filters, an ignition cable, six spark plug connectors, a fuel pump, an ignition coil, a V-belt and a revised ignition distributor, I was loaded with the most necessary tools and, against my wishes, a test lamp instead of a multimeter.
On August 31, we flew to Luton to pick up our small rental car - a Fiat 500 was the cheapest offer. We only needed the car to drive an hour north and then back again, and we joked with the rental car man that we would bring the 500 back before the end of his shift and show him our new E-Type.
An hour later, after the formalities, our new E-Type pulled up in front of the warehouse. It purred like it should. It was a really great car, even in daylight. A good buy, we were sure. The tank was almost empty, so I enthusiastically filled up with diesel at the next filling station for the first time, but it was only about five liters before I realized it. Then I diluted the diesel with high-octane.
After just 5 kilometers, we came to the slip road of the English main road, the M1 freeway. In the acceleration lane, with the little Fiat in tow, there were a few misfires, large clouds of smoke in the rear-view mirror and our new acquisition was already parked in the breakdown lane of the acceleration lane.
We cheerfully replaced the dirty fuel filter that had been diagnosed as the source of the fault and sniffed the fuel, which only smelled vaguely of diesel - every petrol engine needs a bit of top-up oil now and again, it's good for you.
We packed up all the utensils again and pressed the start button. Dead silence (from the Jaguar). Not a wobble, not even the ignition control lamp gave a sign of life. But hello? Center console removed, fuse box folded down and searched for life with the test light: it glowed faintly. My good soul had probably packed me a bad old lamp, I thought to myself. During this time, Simone searched online (thanks to her smartphone!) for a good switching diagram, as I only knew the XK diagrams by heart. According to my limited measurements, the ignition lock made a weak impression. So I bypassed it. But this was not successful. I systematically tried to check the current flow with the little lamp. It was bizarre. I put a load on the battery, which was in top condition, the sparks jumped like a MIG welding system. After all the original cables had been classified as faultless, we discovered that the screw connection of the main current pole on the car body was loose. Both sides were only finger-tightened. Cheers! Fault found. But no, this was not the solution to the puzzle either. After almost an hour of guesswork, I realized that this was a strange case.
Evening was beginning to fall. I hopped into the Fiat and Simone looked after the comatose E-Type. The magic word in England is Halfords. The shopping paradise for all British car hobbyists. The nearest branch was quickly found on the Internet and so I was able to fulfill my needs there: A multimeter to measure accurately, a tow rope in case I couldn't get the car running and 5 meters of cable to be able to lay cable bridges. Back at Simone and the E, I was amazed that after two hours, not a single car had stopped. Three lanes of traffic flowed past us. Policemen, AA and RAC patrols, other Jaguars, other classic cars and certainly members of the JDC and JEC. Nobody stopped. Not that we would have wanted to, as this would have prevented us from concentrating on our work. We started measuring with the voltmeter. The car was barely live and the battery was great. Sometimes, if the dashboard was left alone for a long time, you could hear a faint crackling noise. Gopfridstutz! Why was this car in a coma?
It was starting to get dark. We had no choice but to tow the car to safety at the nearest rest stop. Simone pulled poor E through a huge puddle on the hard shoulder. I immediately lost all visibility.
The search continued at the service area. Slowly we got to the bottom of the problem. The clues would have been there. The car had only covered around 100 miles in the last four years. Why did the car have a starter with a reduction gear, electronic ignition, silicone ignition cables and the wrong spark plugs? In the end, we found the answer: the original screw connection of the ground cable to the bodywork, which had never been touched, was almost cold.
We managed to get the car running with current jumpers. At 11 p.m., we plunged onto the highway with the little Italian in tow.
Everything was going so well. Unfortunately, the exit that would have taken us straight to the hotel was closed, so we had to drive through Luton. And in the middle of Luton, which was still hectic (it was almost midnight after all!), our classic car completely failed again. So we hitched our green one to the red one and I pulled Simone through a highly dubious quarter in Luton. With black fingers, we checked into the Luton Hoo Hotel. A gorgeous hotel, where just 7 hours ago I had imagined I would be toasting our new arrival with Simone overlooking the castle grounds.
Exhausted, we fell into bed, not without having found the nearest Halfords on the internet. 0900 was store opening time, so at least we had some time to sleep in. At Halfords we bought a spare battery, the heaviest jumper cable, a battery charger, a good set of customs nuts, WD 40 spray and various cable plugs.
Back in the hotel parking lot, I started to repair the main grounding point. The screw was tight, really tight. Nevertheless, there was hardly any current flowing. I cleaned the threads with the wire brush I had bought, sanded the surfaces of the washer and the screw and the contact point on the body. And lo and behold, suddenly our E-Type woke up from its coma. We quickly returned the rental car and set off. It's fantastic how a 4.2-liter feels when it's running. Although it has to be said that a certain amount of our coupé's performance was lost in the slipping clutch. Typical of old original coil spring pressure plates. In addition to the spare parts we had brought with us, the trunk had filled up with our Halfords purchases.
Before the Thames crossing at Dartford, it started to spit again. The ignition was perhaps not set quite so precisely after we had fitted our original distributor. Somewhere on the M20 towards Folkestone, the Jaguar died again. So another stop on the hard shoulder was necessary. After replacing the ignition coil, our patient was running again.
At Arras, I wanted to readjust the spark plug gaps and the breaker gap and buy a feeler gauge for this purpose. Unfortunately, we couldn't find a Halfords in Arras and the tire shop didn't even know what "bougies, bougies d'allumage" were.
Misfortune rarely comes alone and so the clutch hydraulics failed in city traffic. But that didn't bother us, because we had brake fluid with us. "Simone pumpä!". "Meeh!". Pumping did nothing. The bleeder was completely open on the slave cylinder, but apart from a pitiful drop of rusty fluid, nothing came out. As a small intermezzo, an old Frenchman approached us and asked if he could help us. I needed a feeler gauge, I explained to the friendly man. Overjoyed, he triumphantly confirmed to his wife that he still had the old tool from his father and a quarter of an hour later we were able to set precise distances and realized that the engine was fitted with the wrong plugs.
Now we had a good running engine and no clutch. This was going to be fun. The inclined reader with a little less experience with cars of strong character must now imagine the situation as follows: You engage first gear and press the starter button, the car starts to move jerkily until it starts. If you have a good foot on the gas, you can hold your foot steady, otherwise your foot will bounce and the car will bounce jerkily on the road. Once everything has stabilized and the engine speed has been reached, ease off the accelerator and gently pull the gearshift until the gear is pulled out, then engage the next higher gear at lightning speed. Eh voilà. That's the theory. As soon as something goes wrong in the process, you have to start all over again. None of this would have been a problem if we hadn't been faced with the many French payment points.
Somehow, we managed to get to the Swiss border with our wounded car. To our great concern, there were four French customs officers at the Swiss border at 0100. They don't like U-numbers, especially for imports good papers are always very important. However, during the Swiss processing we noticed that the French were lying in wait for a Flixbus, which they meticulously checked, whereby the passengers and their luggage had to line up.
Our last hobble on the unfortunately unfavorably sloping customs area even motivated the Swiss customs officers to help us by pushing us along.
We made it! At 02:00 we fell exhausted into bed in Roggliswil. Shortly afterwards, our design icon found a new owner, who is already looking forward to a thoroughly serviced E-Type with a new clutch for 2019. Happy ending!
