Doug Clark: A car that can drive you to tears

Gas guzzler?

Check.

Twenty-five years old or less?

Check.

Yep. My aged daily driver fits the requirements for the government’s “cash for clunkers” program.

But let me be windshield clear. You feds can have my ride when you pry my cold dead fingers off the leather-wrapped steering wheel.

My Jag’s no junker. It’s a work of automotive art.

Come see for yourself.

The green 1987 Jaguar XJ6 I bought last spring will be on display today from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. at Valley Mission Park. (The park is in Spokane Valley, a short hop west of Pines on Mission.)

With me will be a traveling full-size replica of the Dougbench – my bus bench advertisement. Plus I’ll give away Otto buttons and some CDs while they last.

But my chrome spoke wheels are just a minor attraction.

My reason for going to Valley Mission Park is to take a gander at today’s all-British car show called BritBull XIII.

According to Ron Wilson, the BritBull contact, last year’s event drew 68 entries. And it’s free.

God save the Queen!

I asked Wilson what it takes to own a classic British motorcar in today’s enviro-crazed world.

“You have to have some sense of self-deprivation,” he said.

Wilson owns three British cars: a 1959 TR-3, a 1966 Austin Healey and a 1974 MGB.

What, no Jaguars?

Wilson chuckled. Jaguars, he told me, are great cars “until they break. And when they break – it’s all over.”

Blimey! Jag owners are punch lines even to other British car aficionados.

Ever since I bought this classy chassis, people have gone out of their way to remind me of the Jaguar’s dubious mechanical track record.

Just the other day, a reader e-mailed me about something he heard on a radio program.

A caller said he saw a car that he fell in love with, but all his friends warned him to not buy it.

“What kind of Jaguar was it?” quipped the host.

Look. I’ve owned my Jag a whole four months now. And it’s only been in the shop, um, about three weeks.

Stop laughing.

Here’s what happened. One day I slid behind the wheel and leaned back. SNAP! The adjustment mechanism for the back support broke.

I had to wedge my guitar case between the back and front seats so I could prop up my seatback enough to drive.

I said stop laughing.

Fortunately, this humiliation was resolved thanks to my Jaguar mechanic in Hillyard.

I know. A Jaguar mechanic in Hillyard is like Donald Trump in a Dollar Store.

But Kelly Corbin of Corsmith on North Market Street is the real deal when it comes to repairing European automobiles.

But nothing, alas, comes easy to the Jaguar owner.

Finding a replacement seat was impossible. Apparently my leather color is some rare, limited edition.

Corbin had to locate another mechanism. Then he had to have the seat taken apart at an upholstery shop and put back together once the new adjustment gear was in place.

What have I gotten myself into?

I’ll confess. I won’t be at BritBull XIII just to gawk at cars.

I’m looking for a Jaguar-owners support group.