Here lies the behind the scenes drama of loving a man who restored a Jaguar XJC or A Marriage. A Car. A Very Expensive Midlife Adventure.

There are many ways to test a relationship.

Some couples assemble IKEA furniture.

Others drive together. One person drives and the other navigates, providing “helpful suggestions.” Neither enjoys the experience.

I married a man who restored a 1975 Jaguar XJC, a car so rare it’s basically an emotional support animal for retired British aristocrats.

Drum roll please…his book about it is #1 on Amazon in his category.

Apparently, the universe rewards this behavior.

My Life as Jaguar Support Staff…

When David announced he was restoring a classic Jaguar during the pandemic, I thought, “Wonderful. A hobby. Something wholesome and productive to make the pandemic tolerable for him.”

What I failed to understand was that I was also joining the restoration project.

Suddenly I became chauffeur, parts-runner, snack coordinator, and emotional support spouse for a man having deep spiritual conversations with rust bubbles.

I have spent so much time driving to mechanics, upholsterers, paint shops, and obscure Jaguar specialists in South Florida and San Luis Obispo, California that I now feel qualified to diagnose carburetor issues and oil leaks against my will.

The Car Itself…

The XJC arrived looking like a faded British socialite who’d been banned from Monaco twice.

As the book delicately comments about the virgin encounter, “Dings, dents and incorrect color, but no rust and generally sound for an aging grand dame.”

Which in restoration language translates roughly to, catastrophic, but survivable.

Every week introduced a fresh emotional subplot:

• Wiring that looked like raccoons had hosted a rave inside the dashboard

• So called minor rust that turned out to involve existential questions about structural integrity

•   Seat foam that dissolved like feta cheese

•   Chrome trim held on by optimism

•  A cooling system operating entirely on vibes and denial

And through it all, there was me. Smiling supportively while secretly Googling: can classic Jaguars smell anxiety?

The Emotional Stages of a Jaguar Wife…

Show interest – “Oh, that’s charming.”

Concern – “Why is there smoke?”

Negotiation – “How much was that part?”

Acceptance – “Fine. I’ll drive you there.”

Resignation – “This car lives with us now.”

Pride – “Okay… it’s actually stunning.”

Publicist – “Buy the book. I’ve earned this.”

Then He Wrote a Book…

And annoyingly… it’s excellent.

Not a dry manual. Not Chapter 7: Carburetor Musings.

It’s funny, reflective, oddly moving, and full of the kind of obsession only certain men, artists, and people who alphabetize extension cords truly understand.

Even the museum world loved it. The foreword calls it:“A pleasure to read and a rare beast indeed.”

Honestly, that also describes my husband after two glasses of wine and a successful engine startup.

And Now It’s #1 on Amazon.

The book is a riveting restoration story filled with craftsmanship, obsession, humor, and enough chaos to qualify as a secondary marriage.

After six years of British engineering trauma, mystery invoices, delayed parts, and emotional negotiations with a transmission, the universe decided to reward him.

I am proud. Truly.

I’m also watching Craigslist very carefully in case another Jaguar appears. I need to quash that dream, immediately.

Get the Book on Amazon. Click the link.

**Please, pick it up and enjoy!