Part 8 - Resurrection
My wife and I were returning from a long-promised shopping trip to Bicester Village without the teenagers. My wife is not a frequent shopper, but when she sets her mind to it, I know we are in for a full day of perusing, selecting, trying, rejecting and buying.
Driving back down the M40 my 'phone rang. It was our eldest, Max, who was eagerly racking up miles in the XJS as a reward for getting it through its MOT. The car looked rough and ready, but was mechanically safe, and though some of the minor ancillaries had yet to be repaired, he felt it was a very cool car to swan about in for a week in his gap year, despite the cost in fuel.
He explained that after collecting his brother from school, the engine had cut out in the middle of a roundabout in Bishop's Stortford and would not restart. He was sure there was sufficient fuel in the car (despite one of those slightly non-functioning ancillaries being the fuel gauge). Up to the moment the engine stopped, the car was running faultlessly. This sounded similar to my breakdown a few months earlier, a problem we thought we had eliminated....
We diverted from our route home and headed across country for Bishops Stortford. Despite the long detour (not a fitting end to a long day's shopping), at least my wife would be able to take our youngest teenager home for dinner and homework. No sympathy was extended to me: It's your car and your problem. It was cold, wet and dark (why is it always so when you break down?).
Just as we reached the XJS, a friendly policeman pulled up, blocked off the road and helped us push the immobile lump of British Leyland's finest to the side of the road and suggested we call the AA.
I jumped into the driver's seat and turned the key one last time before I resorted to calling the breakdown service. The engine started immediately, much to Max's embarrassment. We slowly drove home, avoiding motorways. Dinner was long gone and the withering look from my wife signalled that nothing else would be forthcoming. She was not forming a bond with the XJS.
In my mind I went through the work we had carried out after the car broke down on Bodmin Moor. The only likely common element now could be the 30-year-old Lucas fuel pump. You could hear it buzzing away through the firewall. Was that normal? Was it on the way out? The easiest and cheapest option would be simply to replace it.
In due course, a bright shiny unbranded pump arrived courtesy of Ebay that looked identical to the original, except for the electrical connectors (Ebay is a great resource, but so often the items, although economic, are not quite as the original part).
By now Autumn had given way to a stormy Winter. The UK was battered by Atlantic storm after Atlantic storm. The XJS lives outside on the drive, and in common with many old cars, water tends to find its way into the floorpans and carpets, so during the stormy winter, it lay wrapped up in a cover secured by ropes against the wind. The build up to Christmas in November and December is the busiest time of year in our company, so the XJS sat quietly on the drive until the New Year when I was able to think about the next steps with the car.
The previous summer my wife had a mad moment when she said, in passing, that I should get a motorbike again. I had not had a bike since the children were very young, but now they were getting more self reliant it seemed a fitting time to re-acquaint myself with two wheels. Little did she think that barely a week would go by before we were joined by a bright yellow 2002 Ducati ST4.
Now the Jaguars had a rival for my affections. The Ducati sat in a nice warm garage, whilst the Jaguars braved the Winter weather outdoors. My youngest son, Dexter, was immediately enamoured with the bike, so on the few sunny days that presented themselves, the bike came out to pick him up from school, much to his delight/status/ego. I must be getting old, as to my eyes the Ducati still looks modern, but the bike is nearly 20 years old, which means some things are wearing out...
A new MOT was required, so I booked a test at a local independent motorcycle shop (no Ducati dealers nearby). All went well, until the last moment, when the tester noticed a little play in the rear suspension. On closer inspection, it was apparent that the lower bearing of the shock absorber was severely worn and the whole unit was in danger of dropping off the bike. The proprietor of the dealership, Mark Davall, who turned out to be an ex-Ducati mechanic, came to have a look.
The car still needed to be tested. We could not enter a rally knowing that there were potential issues with the car. A short trip to pick up Dexter from school would at least demonstrate that the fuel pump had indeed been the issue. It was a dark, rainy night (you know what's coming, right?). Picking up speed on the M11 slip-road, the engine hesitated and died. I pulled onto the hard shoulder, called the AA and my wife. My patient, darling wife was not amused. Was that thunder I heard in the distance or was it coming down the phone? She dropped what she was doing and collected young son from the hard shoulder and left me awaiting salvation.
Salvation arrived in the form of a very cheery AA transporter driver. "I bet you don't pick up these that often", I quipped. "You would be surprised how many" the answer came back. It came from the horse's mouth - was it an omen? As we chatted on the way back to base, he asked me if I would like him to arrange for an AA Patrol to meet us at the house to try and diagnose the problem. Consequently, a little later, said patrolman arrived and turned out to be an ex-Jaguar mechanic. Hearing that a new fuel pump had just been fitted, he turned his attention to the ignition system. Within a minute he determined that was the cause of the problem: No sparks.
I had been so convinced that it was a fuelling issue that I had not considered the ignition system. Previous experience had taught me that ignition systems either work or not - not just when it feels like it, but this time it was well and truly dead. We pushed it off the transporter and onto the drive. I needed to do more research.
Our Jaguar XJS is a strange beast: Built in 1990 (one of the best years of sales of the XJS) it was an amalgam of the 1982 HE model together with new fangled technology that had been introduced over the long production run of the car. There is ABS, a new electronic ignition system and a host of changes to the electrical systems that would later be incorporated on the 1991 6.0L facelift model. The problem is that not much of this is documented...at least not in the workshop manuals I had managed to find. Eventually I managed to locate an official Jaguar Workshop manual for the year in question, containing a detailed description of the new ignition system and all the sensors required to make it work.
There are quite a number of sensors: Some are needed for starting, whilst others are needed for continued running. The car started OK....but each time we drove it, it ran for fewer and fewer miles before expiring.
After a process of elimination I deduced that a decaying flywheel speed sensor was the culprit. Having had my fill of eBay parts that were not quite right, I eventually found and ordered the genuine 30-year old Jaguar sensors for the flywheel and the crankshaft. I figured if one was on the way out, the other wouldn't be far behind. A few days later, with the new sensors fitted and with trepidation in my heart, I turned the key. The car started immediately, much to my relief.
The up-side to all these breakdowns was that many of the things that can go wrong have been attended to before the problems arise. Confident that the car was now a good'un, I phoned Graham, my navigator to arrange a shake-down run a week before the rally. Graham had planned out a route on roads typical of those we expected in the event. The day was dry and bright and the car performed even better than I expected. Relief all round.
There are certain standards to be met on HERO events, one of which is that the car must be presentable and very close to the original. This means no primer or filler visible on the panels....and we had plenty of both as a result of the welding. With barely a week to go to the event there was no time for concours bodywork. I ordered an aerosol of Diamond Blue paint on eBay....it would have to do.
Driving back down the M40 my 'phone rang. It was our eldest, Max, who was eagerly racking up miles in the XJS as a reward for getting it through its MOT. The car looked rough and ready, but was mechanically safe, and though some of the minor ancillaries had yet to be repaired, he felt it was a very cool car to swan about in for a week in his gap year, despite the cost in fuel.
 |
| Looking a bit rough, but it has it's MOT |
He explained that after collecting his brother from school, the engine had cut out in the middle of a roundabout in Bishop's Stortford and would not restart. He was sure there was sufficient fuel in the car (despite one of those slightly non-functioning ancillaries being the fuel gauge). Up to the moment the engine stopped, the car was running faultlessly. This sounded similar to my breakdown a few months earlier, a problem we thought we had eliminated....
We diverted from our route home and headed across country for Bishops Stortford. Despite the long detour (not a fitting end to a long day's shopping), at least my wife would be able to take our youngest teenager home for dinner and homework. No sympathy was extended to me: It's your car and your problem. It was cold, wet and dark (why is it always so when you break down?).
Just as we reached the XJS, a friendly policeman pulled up, blocked off the road and helped us push the immobile lump of British Leyland's finest to the side of the road and suggested we call the AA.
I jumped into the driver's seat and turned the key one last time before I resorted to calling the breakdown service. The engine started immediately, much to Max's embarrassment. We slowly drove home, avoiding motorways. Dinner was long gone and the withering look from my wife signalled that nothing else would be forthcoming. She was not forming a bond with the XJS.
In my mind I went through the work we had carried out after the car broke down on Bodmin Moor. The only likely common element now could be the 30-year-old Lucas fuel pump. You could hear it buzzing away through the firewall. Was that normal? Was it on the way out? The easiest and cheapest option would be simply to replace it.
In due course, a bright shiny unbranded pump arrived courtesy of Ebay that looked identical to the original, except for the electrical connectors (Ebay is a great resource, but so often the items, although economic, are not quite as the original part).
By now Autumn had given way to a stormy Winter. The UK was battered by Atlantic storm after Atlantic storm. The XJS lives outside on the drive, and in common with many old cars, water tends to find its way into the floorpans and carpets, so during the stormy winter, it lay wrapped up in a cover secured by ropes against the wind. The build up to Christmas in November and December is the busiest time of year in our company, so the XJS sat quietly on the drive until the New Year when I was able to think about the next steps with the car.
The previous summer my wife had a mad moment when she said, in passing, that I should get a motorbike again. I had not had a bike since the children were very young, but now they were getting more self reliant it seemed a fitting time to re-acquaint myself with two wheels. Little did she think that barely a week would go by before we were joined by a bright yellow 2002 Ducati ST4.
 |
| It's the yellow one. |
Now the Jaguars had a rival for my affections. The Ducati sat in a nice warm garage, whilst the Jaguars braved the Winter weather outdoors. My youngest son, Dexter, was immediately enamoured with the bike, so on the few sunny days that presented themselves, the bike came out to pick him up from school, much to his delight/status/ego. I must be getting old, as to my eyes the Ducati still looks modern, but the bike is nearly 20 years old, which means some things are wearing out...
A new MOT was required, so I booked a test at a local independent motorcycle shop (no Ducati dealers nearby). All went well, until the last moment, when the tester noticed a little play in the rear suspension. On closer inspection, it was apparent that the lower bearing of the shock absorber was severely worn and the whole unit was in danger of dropping off the bike. The proprietor of the dealership, Mark Davall, who turned out to be an ex-Ducati mechanic, came to have a look.
"Wow, that must of been like that for years (doesn't say much for the Ducati dealers that serviced the bike previously). Yes, it can be fixed...but you have to dismantle the whole rear end to replace the bearing...if you're going to that trouble, you may as well replace the 20 year old rear shock unit and all the other worn parts in the linkage". It reminded me of the old song "the thigh bone is connected to the knee bone, the knee bone is connected to the shin bone".
Normally I might I have tackled this myself, but as luck would have it, the following week I had a day's riding instruction with an ex-police motorcyclist to brush up my skills after such a long absence on two wheels. Such time slots are difficult to get, so I had no option but to let the dealership do the work. He promised to have it done, subject to availability of parts. It transpired that not many of the parts were readily available in the UK. In the end, we had Hagon Shocks build a new monoshock unit especially for the bike within a couple of days and courier it to the bike shop. Mark (whose hobby is rebuilding vintage motorcycles) fabricated a new bearing carrier and sourced other sundry parts from Ducati dealers. True to his word the work was completed on time and I had an excellent day's coaching on the highways and byways of Essex.
But like your children, how can you have a favourite? The XJS needed some love too. Unwrapped, one morning it was pressed into service for the school run. A little damp inside, and with much squealing from the power steering pump I dropped Dexter off and set off back down the M11. At a steady 70mph (or thereabouts) the engine suddenly cut out....it was Bodmin Moor all over again. I couldn't believe it. I texted my wife that I would be late for coffee and called the AA (again).
Within 90 minutes the car and I had been collected from the hard shoulder and delivered back home. Yes, the car started first turn of the key when asked to leave the transporter. Nevertheless, obviously something was wrong. The replacement fuel pump had been on my bookshelf all Winter, and now, thanks to some clamps and a few new crimped connectors later, the fuel pump was quickly replaced. A general tightening up of the four (!) drive belts (Chinese-made pattern drive belts from Ebay - very stretchy) and a top-up of power steering fluid (a leak on the to-do list) and all seemed well. My wife, who has a great intuition for these things, doubted this would be the end of the matter.
In the meantime, the raison-d'etre of this car was looming: Our first HERO (Historic Endurance Rally Organisation) event was booked for March 2020. Not withstanding the reliability issues, I had been working through the regulations to ensure the car would pass scrutineering and that it was suitably equipped for the event. A period correct rally clock was installed and as a special treat I had a pair of four point harnesses custom made for the car in a matching blue.
But like your children, how can you have a favourite? The XJS needed some love too. Unwrapped, one morning it was pressed into service for the school run. A little damp inside, and with much squealing from the power steering pump I dropped Dexter off and set off back down the M11. At a steady 70mph (or thereabouts) the engine suddenly cut out....it was Bodmin Moor all over again. I couldn't believe it. I texted my wife that I would be late for coffee and called the AA (again).
Within 90 minutes the car and I had been collected from the hard shoulder and delivered back home. Yes, the car started first turn of the key when asked to leave the transporter. Nevertheless, obviously something was wrong. The replacement fuel pump had been on my bookshelf all Winter, and now, thanks to some clamps and a few new crimped connectors later, the fuel pump was quickly replaced. A general tightening up of the four (!) drive belts (Chinese-made pattern drive belts from Ebay - very stretchy) and a top-up of power steering fluid (a leak on the to-do list) and all seemed well. My wife, who has a great intuition for these things, doubted this would be the end of the matter.
In the meantime, the raison-d'etre of this car was looming: Our first HERO (Historic Endurance Rally Organisation) event was booked for March 2020. Not withstanding the reliability issues, I had been working through the regulations to ensure the car would pass scrutineering and that it was suitably equipped for the event. A period correct rally clock was installed and as a special treat I had a pair of four point harnesses custom made for the car in a matching blue.
The car still needed to be tested. We could not enter a rally knowing that there were potential issues with the car. A short trip to pick up Dexter from school would at least demonstrate that the fuel pump had indeed been the issue. It was a dark, rainy night (you know what's coming, right?). Picking up speed on the M11 slip-road, the engine hesitated and died. I pulled onto the hard shoulder, called the AA and my wife. My patient, darling wife was not amused. Was that thunder I heard in the distance or was it coming down the phone? She dropped what she was doing and collected young son from the hard shoulder and left me awaiting salvation.
Salvation arrived in the form of a very cheery AA transporter driver. "I bet you don't pick up these that often", I quipped. "You would be surprised how many" the answer came back. It came from the horse's mouth - was it an omen? As we chatted on the way back to base, he asked me if I would like him to arrange for an AA Patrol to meet us at the house to try and diagnose the problem. Consequently, a little later, said patrolman arrived and turned out to be an ex-Jaguar mechanic. Hearing that a new fuel pump had just been fitted, he turned his attention to the ignition system. Within a minute he determined that was the cause of the problem: No sparks.
I had been so convinced that it was a fuelling issue that I had not considered the ignition system. Previous experience had taught me that ignition systems either work or not - not just when it feels like it, but this time it was well and truly dead. We pushed it off the transporter and onto the drive. I needed to do more research.
Our Jaguar XJS is a strange beast: Built in 1990 (one of the best years of sales of the XJS) it was an amalgam of the 1982 HE model together with new fangled technology that had been introduced over the long production run of the car. There is ABS, a new electronic ignition system and a host of changes to the electrical systems that would later be incorporated on the 1991 6.0L facelift model. The problem is that not much of this is documented...at least not in the workshop manuals I had managed to find. Eventually I managed to locate an official Jaguar Workshop manual for the year in question, containing a detailed description of the new ignition system and all the sensors required to make it work.
There are quite a number of sensors: Some are needed for starting, whilst others are needed for continued running. The car started OK....but each time we drove it, it ran for fewer and fewer miles before expiring.
After a process of elimination I deduced that a decaying flywheel speed sensor was the culprit. Having had my fill of eBay parts that were not quite right, I eventually found and ordered the genuine 30-year old Jaguar sensors for the flywheel and the crankshaft. I figured if one was on the way out, the other wouldn't be far behind. A few days later, with the new sensors fitted and with trepidation in my heart, I turned the key. The car started immediately, much to my relief.
The up-side to all these breakdowns was that many of the things that can go wrong have been attended to before the problems arise. Confident that the car was now a good'un, I phoned Graham, my navigator to arrange a shake-down run a week before the rally. Graham had planned out a route on roads typical of those we expected in the event. The day was dry and bright and the car performed even better than I expected. Relief all round.
There are certain standards to be met on HERO events, one of which is that the car must be presentable and very close to the original. This means no primer or filler visible on the panels....and we had plenty of both as a result of the welding. With barely a week to go to the event there was no time for concours bodywork. I ordered an aerosol of Diamond Blue paint on eBay....it would have to do.
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