|
Classic Cars - May 1998
FORGING
LYNX by Martin Buckley
If the Lynx C-type has a problem it is that it is a difficult car to classify. To dismiss it as a fake would be to denigrate it to the level of an overgrown plastic Airfix kit; to describe it as a replica somehow doesn't do justice to a car which in many ways is better than the real thing. Still, who cares. After 20 minutes of driving the Lynx C-type, the first for 16 years, you are past caring about classifications. Hot, happy, sun-kissed and exhilarated, such definitions seem like pedantic details once you've driven this retro-rocket, which serves up all the thrills you could want in a sports car. Lynx is no upstart outfit. It built its reputation on D-type replicas but actually started business in 1968 restoring and repairing pre- and post-war sports cars - including factory C- and D-types. 'The latter were almost 20 years old,' says Chairman and MD, John Mayston-Taylor, 'and in need of work. There was no restoration business as we now know it and the cars weren't worth much: in the early Seventies a factory D-type was probably bringing in £12,000 - £14,000. Considering you pay up to a million quid for one today that would have been a good investment.' The Lynx D-type idea came from original company directors Guy Black and Roger Ludgate. They wanted to capture the feeling of the original but to incorporate upgrades and modifications as Jaguar would have done if it had continued building the cars into the Sixties. 'The D-type was designed for Le Mans,' says John, 'so it was meant to go very quickly on a smooth track in controlled conditions. On the road it's exhilarating but not that comfortable.' An ex-Ecosse D-type successfully ran an independently suspended rear end in the early Sixties and its owners asked Lynx to fit it to their factory cars. So why not use it on the Lynx D-type?
Impressed with the work it had done re-commissioning his father's XKs, John helped bring Lynx back from the brink of extinction, taking the helm after the company went into liquidation in 1992. 'It had expanded too quickly in the 1980s, lost its way a bit with things like the twin-turbo XJS Performer and had been left stranded when the market bombed in the early Nineties.'Now with a talented team of 19, things are looking bright again. There is a steady stream of prestigious historic racing cars adorning its slightly reduced workshops in St Leonards, East Sussex, and a steady flow of orders for the D-type, the low-drag 'E' and the Eventer. 'Our strength is in spotting niches in the market and reacting quickly. It doesn't take us 12 months to make a prototype,' says Mayston-Taylor. If cash is tight we come up with a new idea and just do it. The XJS Eventer is a classic example. We've built over 75 of them now.' But what about the C-type? 'I always liked the C-type but the idea to do another batch actually came from a business associate of Dick Skipworth. We look after his Ecurie Ecosse C-type and his friend was so taken by it he wanted his own - but a new one, not a factory one.'
In most other respects the car is faithful to the twice Le Mans-winning original, of which Jaguar produced 54 between 1951 and 1954, all but 11 of them for private customers. There is a multi-tubular chassis — each one has a proper build number so nobody is tempted to pass them off as the real thing in years to come - and double-wishbone front suspension similar to, but not the same as, a Jaguar XK's. The live rear axle is stoutly located by an A-frame and a Panhard rod with torsion bar springing - again as per original. Lynx resisted the temptation to give the C-type the independent rear suspension from the XJ saloon, as on the D-type, because it doesn't really need it. It is clothed in a light and slippery alloy body of breathtaking beauty. Its voluptuous hand-wheeled wings hug heroically dimensioned 16-inch spoked wheels, its dainty doors cut into shallow sides, its pert tail smooth and almost featureless but for wristwatch-sized tail lights and a removable panel where the spare sits. Apart from the fact that it looks brand new - most of the factory cars are evocatively battle-scarred - you couldn't tell it from the real thing.
Turn the key and fuel pumps click, filling the Webers' float chambers with unleaded. Press the button and the engine fires instantly then idles smoothly. Dip the clutch, find first in the Mossbox and the gear engages cleanly. Throttle response is sharp and progressive in its long travel as the C pulls gently away. With commitment and precision - double de-clutching is easy - the gears slice through nicely, if not rapidly, on the stubby, gently curved lever. There is enormous low-down torque here, so gear play is optional anyway.
In a straight line, everything is very stable as you hold the wheel in a loose thumb-and- forefinger grip and allow the wheel to wriggle and tug gently. The ride is firm but not jarring thanks to good damping, even if you sense the live rear axle working hard at times. What's more, the structure feels rigid and rattle-free, a quality that can only be good for handling.
However you classify it, this is a great car in its own right, not just for its muscular urge or its simple, sensual beauty but because it's an urbane and friendly car - raw and exciting yet generous and forgiving in its feel and manners. |
|