2015 Jaguar F-Type R coupe
hooligan |ˈho͞oləgin|
noun. a violent young troublemaker, typically one of a gang.
DERIVATIVES
hooliganism |-ˌnizəm|
noun. ORIGIN late 19th cent.: perhaps from Hooligan, the surname of a fictional rowdy Irish family in a music-hall song of the 1890s, also of a character in a cartoon.
To most Americans, the above word means little; yet to both the British and to a certain subset of Anglophilic colonials it evokes images of Guy Ritchy movies and extrovert English cars known for the ability to be driven sideways in a stylishly Savile Row manner. Why the chassis engineers at Jaguar so delight in creating drift buggies such as the F-Type R coupe in this modern, politically-corrected era is beyond me, but I thank them nonetheless.
That this stunning Jaguar sports coupe doesn’t want to be driven in a strait line is almost an understatement, and the vividness of the experience is somewhat hard to convey in print. An image that may be helpful would be that of a cat on rollerskates—more specifically, a feline with wheels strapped only to its hind legs, for in this analogy its fronts are capable of incredible grip, no matter the surface, yet its derriere seems determined to circumscribe arcs of larger radii than that determined by the tenacious hold of its front claws. This latest Jaguar is very much like that; its front end resists the urge to run wide no matter the provocation, yet its massive, 295mm-section rear tires are seemingly designed to sketch a blackened arc through any worthy corner.
That I did not suffer any handcuffs or incarceration whilst I possessed—or is that while I was possessed by?—the F-Type R coupe (hereafter dubbed FTR) will forever remain a mystery. Whatever the alignment of stars in the heavens, we both emerged unscathed from a glorious week of stupendously ludicrous power slides and drift moments.
This Jaguar is no one-note wonder, either. To begin with, it is indeed a looker, with a pouty face, tight waist and coke-bottled hipline suggestive of the most intoxicating vixens Victoria’s Secret has yet manufactured. Its cockpit is stunning as well; like stripping a slinky runway dress off one of their models, its interior reveals surfaces and details that only are only highlighted by the right frilly knickers. The Jaguar’s architecture is uplifting, the materials of an overall quality above such competitors as BMW. Some details don’t hold up to scrutiny: the seat adjusters and signal/wiper stalks are old school and don’t reconcile well with the modern, blade-like door handles or climate controls, and the infotainment system (just updated for forthcoming models), is a bit behind the best. Finally, the seats are better to look at than to sit in, and a fair amount of wind noise penetrates the seal between the front-and rear side windows.
That’s thrown into prominence by the absence of road roar and easily drowned out by the FTR’s gloriously bellicose exhaust note, whose frankly absurd, machinegun-like machinations are both giggle-inducing and an incitement to more illicit behavior by anyone with even a hint of gasoline in their veins. Ably abetting the 5-liter, supercharged V8 in its sonic and accelerative exploits is the ZF eight-speed automatic gearbox, whose nano-speed upshifts and perfect, rev-matched down changes should be the standard by which such transmissions are judged.
Such noise accompanies the deployment of 550 supercharged horsepower and propels the rather heavy FTR to 60mph in a scant 3.5 seconds, according to independent tests. That such a small car is so stout is down to its derivation from the larger, outgoing XK series, yet its rigidity, handling prowess and overall refinement are of no dispute. Undoubtedly the Jaguar rides very firmly (whatever the chosen suspension setting) yet the reward are the aforementioned, cat-like reflexes and sensational performance figures of which it is capable. Steering feel, precision and response rate are all commensurate with the FTR’s dynamics, and its steel brakes (carbons are an extravagant option) are also honed to exceptional responsiveness.
The FTR sits at an interesting price point. With most all the options one could wish, it is barely more expensive than a loaded Porsche Boxster S or Cayman S, less pricey than a basic 911, and tens of thousands lower than a Carrera S, with which it competes in performance, if not perhaps overall cohesiveness. Subjectively, it is much more characterful than the German cars, too; a charming beast that comes across as a huge bargain for those looking for a gloriously groovy pet, not to mention a companion capable of provide canine-like love and loyalty.
Epilogue
The 2014 Jaguar F-Type R I’ve described here is destined to become a modern classic, for henceforth it will only be available in the US in all wheel drive form. While this will make it more appealing to many in Jaguar strongholds like the North East, and an excellent, very well priced alternative to a Porsche 911 Carrera 4/4S, those of us who love to really play will lament its passing. So passes the hooligan.
EPA ratings: 16/23mpg; 18mpg combined
Price as tested: $102,825
Here is what Jaguar has to say about it.
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