1989 Jaguar Vanden Plas Adheres to Tradition

From the August 1989 issue of Car and Driver.

Neither the United States nor the Unit­ed Kingdom has on its books a statute stipulating that only the wealthy are per­mitted to own Jaguars. Despite this omis­sion, Jaguars and the rich seek each other out as surely as the sun seeks high noon, and we must admit that the combination earns high marks for both proper appearance and the generation of envy. Like strawberries and cream or Moët and beluga, Jaguars and the well-to-do just seem to go together.

The 1989 Vanden Plas continues this tradition. Jaguar, for that matter, takes enormous pride in its devotion to tradi­tion, and this latest offering suggests that the Coventry cavaliers have not lost their touch. The big sedan remains elegant, eccentric, evolutionary, and every inch a Jaguar motorcar.

Being every inch a Jaguar is, in many ways, like being every inch a Rolls-Royce, but a Jaguar differs from a Roller in its availability to persons with incomes of somewhat less magnitude than Califor­nia’s sales-tax revenue. At just under $50,000 for the Vanden Plas version and just under $45,000 for the garden-vari­ety XJ6, this Jaguar confers more perceived status per penny than just about any car on the market.

The Jaguar Vanden Plas also dis­tinguishes itself as a car that all enthusi­asts can appreciate—even if they can’t af­ford it. For a car with a 113-inch wheelbase and an interior that smacks more of a London club than of modern ergonomic design, the Vanden Plas is a marvelous combination of ride quality and handling competence. Jaguar, in fact, has enjoyed a close, mutually re­warding relationship with those who drive its cars for as long as any luxury-car maker you can name.

Jaguar’s big news for 1989 can be summed up in two words: better perfor­mance. The inline six-cylinder engine has been spiffed up by an increase in the compression ratio from 8.2 to 9.6:1. This move raises the horsepower of the fine twin-cam, 24-valve engine from 181 to 195 and increases the torque from 221 pound-feet to 232. This, coupled with a rear-axle-ratio change (the economy-­minded 2.88:1 is replaced by the zoomy 3.58:1 Jaguar uses in Europe), results in a 0-to-60-mph time of 8.8 seconds, down a full two seconds from the XJ6 we tested two years ago (C/D, June 1987).

Ever aware that the rich, however per­formance-minded they may be, are not loath to pinch the odd penny, Jaguar en­gineers saw to it that the sedan’s perfor­mance improvement came without an onerous mpg penalty, though the car now requires super unleaded instead of regular unleaded. The new sedan gets a 17/23-mpg EPA city/highway fuel-econ­omy rating, while the old version got 17/24. Your actual mileage may vary, of course, but our observed mileage during the time we spent as Jaguar drivers was a respectable 18 mpg. These figures are the same whether you select the superluxurious Vanden Plas model­—which brings such niceties to the rear­-seat occupants as veneered picnic tables and reading lamps—at $48,000 or the “standard” XJ6, at $44,000.

The engine retains the smoothness and silence of Jacques Cousteau film footage and moves the big cat at a grace­ful, sure-footed lope. The four-speed automatic transmission, complete with lockup torque converter, contributes rather than detracts from the comforting atmosphere of smoothness and precision created by the engine.

After the passage of a mere nineteen years, Jaguar totally redesigned the XJ6 for the 1987 model year. The new car’s skin didn’t generate raves from automo­tive critics, and it is unchanged for 1989. We remain less than awed by the car’s profile, but it’s undeniably a Jaguar. At rest, the Vanden Plas manages to look both refined and important—a pleasing blend of personality traits.

The exterior has benefited from a pair of minor but useful tweaks. The outside mirrors have undergone aerodynamic surgery, and a new “finisher plate” spans the space between the hood and the windshield. These two fine-tunings are designed to reduce the level of wind noise discernible to the car’s occupants, making the car even more hospitable when it’s moving at freeway speeds.

Entering a Jaguar is much like walking into some of the better-preserved public rooms at the Royal Geographic Society. You have the feeling that any number of important personages have been there before you and that none of them raised his voice or otherwise behaved badly. With the exception of a Rolls-Royce or a Bentley, a Jaguar is the only car that might get away with selling memberships to well-heeled harrumphers.

There are some problems with the 1989 interior, however. Pushing past the shade of Joseph Lucas and into the elec­tronic age, Jaguar has fabricated an in­strument layout that is truly peculiar. Gone are the wonderful clock-sized in­struments, replaced by two dials about the diameter of a crumpet staring blankly back at you. A full complement of elec­tronic displays flanks the dials. Grafted onto the steering column are some more controls, looking every inch the add-ons they are. These are not terminally off­-putting, mind you, but they are anything but harmonious with the Jaguar’s overall aura of tasteful luxury.

Our other objection to the interior is one we found ourselves sitting on. The seats, never overbolstered to begin with, were at least snugly comfortable before. The new editions are as flat as a park bench and just about as yielding—both beneath you and behind you. The seats are not uncomfortable, not at all, but they are discomfiting in that one never feels quite one with the car when sitting on them. That, in fact, sums up the situa­tion: one tends to sit on the seats rather than in them.

Probably an owner would quickly get used to the seats, and if such an owner were not prone to unseemly hard cornering they would present no problems. But we were, to coin a phrase, more comfortable with the old ones. Otherwise, the quality of the materials inside remains as top­-notch as ever. The generous use of wood, fine hides, and cut-pile wool car­peting results in an environment that’s as rewarding to occupy as a $1500 custom­-built Harris Tweed jacket.

Driving the Vanden Plas, with its new­found low-range punch, no longer sub­jects you to traffic-light embarrassment. And the Jaguar blend of luxurious ride and surprisingly competent handling continues to be among the better driving experiences the luxury-car world offers to the fiscally fortunate. The fully independent suspension maintains its composure under duress, while under nor­mal driving conditions it provides a ride that’s smooth without being overly soft. As noted, the Vanden Plas now gets out of its own way with considerable aplomb, and it will cruise effortlessly at speeds that have “ticket” written all over them.

The brakes, four discs, are confidence-­inspiring to use. They will bring the Vanden Plas to a stop from 70 mph in a smart 182 feet and, in our experience, are fade-free. The Teves anti-lock brak­ing system also serves to make emergen­cy braking less stressful.

For a luxury car—or any car, for that matter—the Vanden Plas communicates the same spirit of driver involvement that we suspect William Lyons had in mind when he introduced the Jaguar SS 2.7 sa­loon in 1935.

Though the Jaguar Vanden Plas may not be at the cutting edge of sedan tech­nology—being light-years behind the BMW 750iL, to cite one bit of evidence—it nonetheless delivers traditional Jaguar luxury, more than adequate perfor­mance, and an indefinable aura of respectability. And it does so at what those for whom it is intended would consider a fair-enough price.

Contributing Editor

William Jeanes is a former editor-in-chief and publisher of Car and Driver. He and his wife, Susan, a former art director at Car and Driver, are now living in Madison, Mississippi.