I rescued my 1967 Triumph TR4-A from a dilapidated one-car detached garage in Waukee, IA during the fall of 1977. It was not running and had some minor damage to the left rear wheel. I towed it back to Indianola behing my 1969 Grand Prix using a sturdy rope. We were living in a two bedroom apartment above a guitar shop on the town square at the time. The only parking space available to us was a block away in a small lot across the street from the police station. That had to suffice as my “garage”.
I don’t recall precisely what was wrong with the motor but it must have been minor because I began driving it shortly thereafter. The damage to the wheel was a little more problematic, the trailing arm on the independent rear suspension was bent and as a result the car travelled down the road slightly askew. This did not really affect the handling of the car but it did have a significant effect on tire wear and looked a little peculiar. I eventually replaced the trailing arm.
I got a tremendous amount of enjoyment from driving the little blue beastie and had a lot of memorable exeriences with it. I was attending college in Ankeny at the time and had a 50 mile round trip to make on a daily basis. On a typical fall morning I would unzip the tonneau cover on the drivers side, pop open the air vent and enjoy the warmed air that was forced through the heater and trapped underneath the cover while I drove through the crisp autumn air to class.
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I miss my Jaguar. It had a certain mystique about it that cannot be replaced by ordinary Detroit iron. What exactly do I mean by the Jaguar mystique? What is it that Jaguars have that other cars do not? Even people who are not generally interested in cars can immediately identify a Jaguar, new or old. Perhaps it is the rare combination of understated elegance and grace, a certain “presence” on the road. It’s hard to say, but when all is said and done, the Jaguar is a car which pleases the senses, and does so in a way that virtually no other automobile seems able to. Those of us who have (or had) Jaguars can attest that our cars simply make us feel good, whether driving, tinkering, polishing, or just staring at them.
I suppose this unquenchable desire has its roots back in the mid-seventies when I got my first LBC (little british car). I’ve forgotten exactly what drew me in the first place. It may have been high shool memories of John Zaun’s TR-6. Whatever the case, I found this navy blue 1967 Triumph TR-4A languishing in a dilapidated one-car detached garage out by Waukee, IA. Aahhh but that’s 
