The 420G
WITH THE deadline for this column looming but no inspiration forthcoming, I did what all good writers do in this situation and tidied my desk drawer. In between the empty pen ink cartridges and old business cards from people long since forgotten, I found an ancient polaroid of a burgundy 420G my father owned in the early Eighties.
As I focused on this now fading picture, I was reminded of several happy memories. Because together with watching The A-Team, riding my BMX and eating Wagon Wheels, the Jaguar represented a fair proportion of my childhood and of all the many interesting cars dad owned during my youth, it’s the one that’s left the biggest impression on me.
I was too young to understand the significance of it being Jaguar’s first large saloon to have a unitary construction or how controversial the slab-sided, American-inspired styling was when new. I just liked how big and luxurious it was.
The wood and leather interior was a world away from the plastic of the Peugeots my parents used throughout the Eighties while the ability to eat lunch on the rear tables during rainy trips to the nearby Yorkshire Dales made me feel like royalty. Four decades later I can still remember how the interior smelt, a heady aroma of worn leather, old glue and sandwich crumbs.
At almost 2m wide when a Ford Sierra was 1.67m, it was vast for the time and filled those narrow country roads like a truck. It could also be argued my father invented the concept of the MPV since with the car built before rear seat belts had to be fitted or used, my two siblings and I plus one of our friends could fit comfortably on the rear bench. You wouldn’t get away with that now thankfully, but back then it was perfectly acceptable.
THE CAR REPRESENTS A FAIR PROPORTION OF MY CHILDHOOD AND ONE THAT’S LEFT THE BIGGEST IMPRESSION ON ME
What always confused me about the car, though, was how old fashioned it felt even then. As one of the very last examples from 1970, it was little more than a decade old when my father bought it yet it was already viewed as a classic. My XF Sportbrake might be now the same age yet I wouldn’t consider or treat it as such. I guess that’s called progress.
The car’s generally poor condition no doubt accelerated this view. The bodywork had Titanic levels of rust while the brakes tended to fade
