Museo Stradale
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Dominic's Auto Museum
One man's passionate quest to survey finest motorcars in the world
#0043 - Jaguar D-Type Short Nose, XKD530, 1955
Photographed: Pebble Beach Concours d'Elegance, 2009. Owner: Gary W. Bartlett
Hyperbole and Such: Well I am a devotee of the British classic car magazine, Octane, and in those editions (that appear with astonishing frequency) in which it is appropriate to sing the praises of Jaguar, the D-Type appears ever so regal. But who's to complain? In the midst of all the heritage talk of late, there's been mention of Aston Martin as the quintessential British sports car, or even of Morgan as the oldest and truest British sports car. And it's all codswallop. Jaguar, (or Jag'you'are, thank you very much), are the three words that spell sports car for Great Britain, and though they cannot give proper justice to the name of the animal—family: Panthera onca—the mechanical form of the same is a true masterpiece.
Simple, light, and reliable, the D-Type was down on power and funding and still managed to win Le Mans three years running, from 1955 to 1957. Perhaps it was a nice blend of luck and longevity, but certainly the car was built to victory's specification. In the end, however, a car so absolutely beautiful in line can't be shunned. Shapes like the Ferrari 250 Testa Rossa by Scaglietti or the Aston Martin DBR-1, particularly in early 1957 form, show a classical affinity for line and flow. But the dynamism alive in the D-Type is defined by how curves of a similar nature are first exaggerated and then carried around the flanks so that the whole body wraps itself up in a nice, stout package. This is no doubt a measure of the monocoque chassis underneath, excepting the space frame out in front to hold the motor and the wide bonnet.
And the disc brakes, yes, and every stogy comment about il Commendatore and his disposition against the things. But at this point we can diverge, and return to the point that the car itself is just so beautiful. We can compare it to the Italians in this way: Hitherto the post-War era, Italian design was sporting. German design was sporting, too, and even once upon a time the French had the knack for sporting design. But the British had Bentley, an incongruous abomination of the mainstay sporting concept regardless of the era—effective and magnificent, yes, but sporting in their own way and nobody else's were Bentley.
But here in the mid 1950s arose a sense of British sporting design. It was also seen in Austin Healey, Lister, and Lotus, but if you wish to personify this aesthetic, the full stretch is that a British sporting design is like a D-Type. When the XK-120 appeared in 1949, it showed the way forward for British sports cars, and to no small extent sports cars in general. Yet, as was alluded to in the piece on the BMW 328, William Lyons had clear guidance for the XK-120 design. The D-Type, on the other hand, is where all of that inspiration was headed, and by the time it arrived, the ideas that once came from other products in other countries had either been perfected or replaced by a particular flavor of engineering. At last, Great Britain had a winning aesthetic—seductive, desirable, and conceived in-house.
The D-Type made the world take racing green seriously. Displayed here is a fine example, a Works D-Type in short nose form. I much prefer the short nose because it truncates the front quarters, preserving their cat-like spring to the fore. The long nose versions smooth the lines a bit, which is a more classical form and not as specific to the D-Type aesthetic. That sort of undulation is better executed by Lister, whereas in the D-Type we can liken the purposeful design approach to the British warplanes of the previous decade—these of stout performance with a discreet beauty underneath. Moreso than most period cars, the D-Type recaptures that fine blend of subtle aggression.
Sources: This piece remains largely editorial. (But do we really need more print on this car?)
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