 | |
| The 2.2 diesel Jag XF won British caravaners' vote as the best towing car of 2012. Anyone who can add a tow-hitchto the Jag's lines should have it rammed up his rectum. |
CARS are creative works which, like good art, inspire higher
thoughts — even epiphanies — in the driver.
One gets out of a supercharged car like the XFR, believing you can
conquer the world (and feeling at least a 10th as virile as our
president).
The XFR is actually the XF’s biggest enemy. For, by contrast, a
drive in the Jaguar XF diesel burner left me wondering whether my health scheme
covered hip replacements.
Even the very old-school rock of the accomplished new band Teerpad
sounded just too young on the somewhat muted twin woofers. And, as luck would
then have it, when I pressed “radio” on the touchpad, pension plans and adult
incontinence pads were advertised.
Yet, on paper, there is no reason for the XF to leave one with such
vague feelings of dodderingness.
As it says in the blurb: “The new XF fuses contemporary-sports car
styling and dynamics with the refined performance and comfort of a luxury
saloon.” At work, one colleague even mistook the XF for an Astin Martin, it
looks that good.
Get inside, watch the louvres and gear knob rise into position, set
the seat and steering-wheel temperatures just so, and as the six cylinders warm
up, choose what music you want to play from various ports. Then prowl through
the city to find an open road on which to unleash the big Jag. Idling thus, the
low-slung, 2,36-ton Jag will show itself to be a creamy commuter, and you will
understand why 300 000 readers of the UK Auto Express voted it
“car of the decade” last year. The only niggle in stop-start traffic is the
auto-engine shut down, but for that, there is an off button handily set in the
middle of the dashboard.
But once on that open road — oi vey — how little of the promised performance actually got delivered via the flappy paddles. I must have felt at least as disappointed as any of the president’s women who compared The Spear to the real thing.
Having been a Jaguar fan since I was yay high , I really wanted the
latest model to be as good as the sum of its parts, which are many, and of
diverse origin.
This includes a stretched S-type chassis, which did such good
service under the Europe-only Ford Mondeo; the diesel engines, which combined
the best brains from Ford and Peugeot-Citroën; and the sumptuous fittings that
combine the best from the Ford/Land Rover/Jaguar bins. Somehow, they all only
serve to remove the driver further from the driving experience, than one of
Google’s self-driving cars.
For many commuters, this Jag driving itself would be a perfect
match. Personally, I would have liked more time to learn where to catch the big
cat’s vague sway into the curves. As it is, the mere thought of reaching the
claimed top 250-kilometre-per-hour top speed was enough to tune the radio back
to the life-insurance debate.
The premium luxury-specification 3,0 diesel I rode retails just shy
of R700 000, which is cheaper by some R70 000 than the Porsche Panamera diesel,
but also some R30 000 dearer than similarly spec’ced and powered Beemers, Audis
and Mercs.
At this price, the XF is not a car for a go-getter, but wheels for
the already-been-there kind of person, who is now content to prowl the corporate
parking lot and compare pensions plans. The XF diesel is, as those 300 000
voters suspected, the right car for the person who has arrived.
CAR EVALUATED
Jaguar
XF 3,0 Diesel S Premium Luxury at R695 200 with a five year/100 000 km
maintenance plan
Engine: 2 993 cc six-cylinder diesel
Power: 202 kW at 4 000 rpm
Torque: 600 Nm at 2 000 rpm
Transmission: six-speed auto with flappy paddles
THE COMPETITORS
• 386
BMW 530d AT (R671 137)
• Mercedes
Benz E350 CDI auto (R673 000)
• Lexus
GS300 SE AT (R653 000)
