Childhood memories
are very powerful. In my neighborhood "lived" a 1954
XK-120 Roadster. At four or five years old, I wasn't fully
aware of what it was--all I knew is that
it was beautiful. We never knew the owner, but ocassionally
we would see him quickly get into his steed.
With a pipe firmly clenched in his
teeth, and with a chatter of the starter, the sharp sound of
that rorty exhaust
would bounce off the surrounding houses and away he he would go.
One thing bothered me,
even at 4 years old, "why did he almost always have that
top up?" Well, it could have been due to the habitually
cool, almost cold foggy mist that seemed to always be around
the San Francisco Bay. But to me, gee, this was a convertible--
and aren't convertibles meant to be driven with the top down?
On a rare occassion (a sunny warn day in S.F. is about as common
as the Giants winning the pennant), he'd struggle with the top
stowing it away, and then, pipe still firmly clenched in teeth,
motor smartly away.
Whenever I could, I
would steal glances at it. Sneaking up on it like some
little animal checking to see if it was safe to come out of
its den. At times, the pipe-man seemed to be gone, and then I'd
just sit on the curb next to that car and look at it. And look.
And stare. And wonder. I'd walk around and around it and peer
in the windows, looking at the black expanse of leather and those
big, round dials. I studied its every curve, crease, and form
so I could remember it when I went to bed at night. There was
something really special about that car.
And one day I came home
and I didn't see the car again. Or the pipe-man. For a while,
I'd walk across the street and just sit on the curb--not doing
anything in particular, except looking at the oil spot
pattern on the street left by the white convertible.
I
still want one!
Not the white that I remember, but something else. It was the
shape that so mesmorized me. I can still see every
detail. No car
better personifies the spirit of the old to new Jaguar than
the XK-120. It is a true classic, don't you agree?