My small obsession with cars started young when girls my age were into boys and makeup. I drooled over a metallic baby blue Jaguar that glided past my house every morning. I’m not quite sure what drew me to slobber over such machinery, but I remember it being quite an attraction. I really think my liking of ‘classy’ things began the moment I spotted this luxury automobile. It was a rare sight in my neighborhood, not every household owned a vehicle, and most cars were second-hand, disfigured tin boxes that did nothing to please the eye.
It didn’t take me long to figure out the Jaguar belonged to one of my bosses. I was hired for a part-time summer job. I would take a ten-minute walk to work. I found myself leaving the house at the exact time every day, so I could drool over this beauty passing by. Then one day, as it poured down with rain and I struggled with my umbrella against the unforgiving wind, this four-wheeled stunner halted at my side. The passenger window glided down, and a well-groomed gentleman of a boss signaled for me to take the back seat. I remember him mumbling something about how I’d never make it on time to clock in as I fumbled with my belongings. I was so stunned, I almost wanted to throw the umbrella away so I could focus on getting into the car.
It was that exact moment I had experienced, for the first time, the ‘new car’ scent. Every moment after that, when I have seated myself in a brand new car, I go back in time to the very moment I entered this vehicle. I don’t recall the rest of the conversation between my boss and me. I just recall what I felt.
I came from a mediocre upbringing. My father’s idea of a luxury car was the eyesore of a station wagon parked outside our house. He worked on the Renault all the time; in fact, I don’t remember any car he owned that didn’t need work. Tirelessly, he’d change spark plugs, timing belts, and gearboxes. He would fiddle with the cassette player and speakers. I’d sit in the passenger seat with a pencil and wind back the cassette tapes that got caught in the player. I would help him with tools and hold flashlights, and wash the car.
Sitting in this Jaguar was like getting to experience a little bit of heaven. The creamy leather felt so rich, as if I were seated on a lush cloud. I almost wasn’t aware we had started driving off; the silence inside was undisturbed, and no street noise made its way in. The floor mats were spotless, and the clear windows sold the raindrops to me. The windshield wipers glided effortlessly, syncing with the sound of the symphony playing in the background, and became hypnotizing. The wooden steering wheel made it look as though it was effortless to maneuver this vessel. The same varnished wood was embellished inside the door frames and along the dashboard. I never knew a car could make me feel so majestic, and here I was breathing in the very essence of being driven in the back of a Jaguar.
It was the same uneven, bumpy road I traveled in my dad’s car, and yet here, it seemed like I was sailing smoothly across water. I didn’t want to exit this luxury compartment; it made me feel like the world beyond this vehicle was anything but safe. The majestic Jaguar cat emblem that protruded from the bonnet of the car made me feel royal. I’ll always remember the sleek lines across the polished body and the masterpiece of a glossy interior. It was then, I found wheels and rims aesthetically pleasing.
It was this beauty that made me want to learn to drive. It was this experience that allowed me to educate myself on engines, horsepower, transmissions, engaging dashboards, and appealing exteriors. Over the years, I have been blessed to be able to drive many-sized vehicles, from SUVs to sports cars. I have some favorites, but the Jaguar XJ was once a symbol of British motoring excellence. It was my first luxury car experience, and it will always be my first love.
