Coveting a Jaguar

When traveling by train from Xi’an to Beijing in 1992, I struck up a conversation with an elderly gentleman, who turned out to be the vice president of a university in Beijing.   “When I was young,” he said,” I had the time to travel but not the money.  Now that I have the money, I don’t have the time.” 

A similar irony envelops my love affair with the Jaguar XK120, manufactured in the late ‘40s and early 50s.  Sleek, sumptuous, voluptuous, the two-seater forever holds first place in that section of my heart devoted to automobiles.  When I first rode in one, I could easily fold myself up to enter it and unfold myself to exit - I didn't even think about it - but I couldn’t afford even to fill up its tank.  Now that I can afford to buy the car itself, I’d need someone to help me in and to help me out, which would scarcely enhance my image as a sportsman. 

Even though I’d have difficulty entering the vehicle and later escaping from its embrace, I’ve often thought of buying one.   There are many reasons not to, aside from the difficulty of maintaining a sports car, notorious for mechanical problems, not to mention maintaining an antique sports car.  First of all, I no longer am licensed to drive, not having renewed my last license.  I had driven so rarely, that I became nervous while at the wheel, and a near accident convinced me that it was time to hang up the keys.  Second, New York gives drivers little opportunity and less need to practice their driving skills.  Its excellent public transportation system coupled with the difficulty in finding parking spaces – a substantial portion of traffic in New York is composed of drivers looking for a place to park – has made New York the only city in the country in which the majority of residents own no car.  Even so, I fantasize about owning a Jaguar XK120. 

There are fantasies and fantasies.  Another is living aboard a yacht and inviting my friends to join me from time to time for segments, as long or short as they please, as I sail around the world.  This fantasy is so completely impossible – my wife would never agree to it – that when it pops into my head I slowly shake it and smile sadly.  But buying a Jaguar XK120 is within the realm of possibility.  It would be so impractical and ridiculous, though, that I know I’d never do it.

But now, thanks to my daughter, who is always looking out for my welfare, I have a substitute.  It’s as black, sleek, and elegant as the Jaguar.  Like the Jaguar it stands by itself.  In addition, you can fold it up and adjust its height.  Furthermore, it has three points of contact with the ground (unlike the Jaguar’s four), and a pivot above those three points gives it added stability.  It is, in short, a cane, the Hurrycane, “the all terrain cane.”   I took it out for a spin, the other day, and was completely delighted.