Jaguar F-Type R75 | Test Drive | Auto Class Magazine

Jaguar F-Type R75 | Test Drive

18 September 2023 Redazione News, Stories, Tested

The wonderful ups and downs along the Col Agnel are just a backdrop today. A tool made available for a greater purpose, that of imprinting in my mind the deepest essence of one of the best grand tourers of all time, now close to crossing its threshold and leaving enthusiasts orphaned of emotions that will soon be nothing but wonderful memories.

Words Alessandro Marrone / Photos Alessio Becker

This is a sad day, but also one of those moments in which you necessarily find yourself having to slow down and fully savor those emotions that we have too often taken for granted. It is the end of an era, an approaching dark shadow that will soon leave nothing but memories behind, at the mercy of the inexorable work of the passing of time, which will completely wipe out days like this, spent at the wheel of a sports car powered by an engine now defined as prehistoric, one of those which however knows how to give you goosebumps as it revs up, in search of the perfect marriage of all those points that differentiate a simple journey from a proper adventure.

This is the last of the F-Types, at least as we know it. The last Jaguar grand tourer with a combustion engine and very likely the last of a species increasingly doomed to extinction. The creation of Sir William Lyons, capable of crossing the 20^th century, overcoming world conflicts and a period – that of the 90s – which seemed ready to give the coup de grace to the Coventry brand, celebrates its purest sports car with a special edition called R75, behind which however hides much more than a few badges and the strength to shout one last hurray. In these moments all you need is to prolong that taste of freedom granted by the essence of a grand tourer, that is, a prestige car capable of devouring long distances between comfort and performance. The F-Type has not only been able to take up the legacy left by the numerous stylistic references, it’s not just a reminiscent name.

Life is made of moments that follow one another, giving rise to events that outline the passing of time. It is up to us and our free will to take one direction rather than another. Today’s route takes me towards the summit of the Alps, in the direction of Col Agnel, a thin and twisted strip of asphalt that climbs up the side of the mountain to descend from the opposite one between challenging curves and dizzying drops, all accompanied by a panorama and a natural background worthy of the last grunt of this special jaguar. Once I leave Pontechianale and with the embrace of the mountains that envelops me almost as if to give that loving shelter you need the moment in which the heart seems to tighten in the sadness of an inexorable destiny, I stop the car near the arch that delimits the beginning of the climb towards the Pass.

With the engine off and the windows open, I let the sounds of nature enter the cockpit, the early morning breeze and those smells of uncontaminated meadows, far from the chaos to which we are now unfortunately accustomed and which too often does not allow to always savor these rare moments. When we manage to let them into our lives they are worth gold. A light pressure on the ignition button, then open the exhaust valves, exclude the Start/Stop and move the selector to Dynamic mode. At that point, foot on the brake and further pressure on the ignition: the V8 comes to life. It does it in the only way it is able to do it, breaking the silence of the mountain, with a muttering that after a few moments tends to decrease in intensity and volume, while still remaining ready to unleash hell on earth if only makes it necessary.

Yes, the difference between us enthusiasts and any other motorist lies precisely in the fact that with a car and a road like this, there can be no half measures: either you admire the landscape with your arm hanging out of the window, feeling at peace with the world, or declaring war to the tires and attack the hairpin bends as if our life depends on it. Today is an epochal day because it will be the last opportunity to taste a similar object in this context, but the first light of the morning and the lack of traffic suggest that something is about to start. I put my right foot on the throttle and the all-wheel drive of the R75 allows the tires to bite the asphalt properly, pressing me to the seat and sending the F-Type rocketing towards the first of the many corners of the Agnel.

It hasn’t changed at all, or we should say it hasn’t changed where it wasn’t necessary. Aesthetically faithful to that GT line and with thinner light clusters than the first generation, the F-Type remains substantially the same even in the passenger compartment, where the coupe bodywork envelops us in a cozy but still spacious environment. Where things are different is on a dynamic level: the R75 is in fact powered by the well-known and glorious 5-litre supercharged V8 with 575 horsepower, with all-wheel drive and 8-speed automatic transmission. The fact of having four-wheel drive is an aspect that might make some people turn up their noses, criticizing its less brutal and nervous behavior, but reality is that with this layout and a weight of 1,885 kg, the F-Type R is much more predisposed to a use that draws on the incredible power available.

The 5,000 is a well of power, with a full-bodied and constant delivery right from the start and 700 Nm of torque which, starting at 3,500 rpm, makes the R like a gigantic spring that launches itself from one curve to another with an almost unnatural reactivity. The grip granted by its huge tires (305 mm at the rear) does the rest, offering extra safety when taking the fastest corners without intending to lighten the gas pedal. It’s perhaps the steering that always remains rather soft, but then again we’re talking about a grand tourer and we shouldn’t be carried away by the fact that it can bring supercar performance into play. Some numbers? 3.7 seconds to accelerate from 0 to 100 kph, 12.6 to reach 200 per hour and a maximum speed of around 300. Figures that with the necessary space are perfectly reachable without the slightest of efforts.

The road becomes narrow and the air thins. The supercharger emits a hiss that is almost constantly covered by the scream of the V8, which once the 4,000/4,500 rpm threshold is exceeded, opens the exhaust valves, releasing the most ancestral cry of passion your ears can hear. The bursts on release anticipate a new climb along the rev counter, leading to forcefully stepping on the brake before the tightest hairpin bends, with the rear wheels gripping the asphalt as best they can, making the F-Type the mountain feline we would never have believed. I didn’t even think that a car would one day be capable of stealing the show to mother nature, yet today it is exactly like that. The splendid ups and downs of the Col Agnel are only a backdrop, a tool made available for a greater purpose, that of imprinting in my mind the deepest essence of one of the best grand tourers of all time, probably a bit unjustly overlooked by most.

Once past the peak at 2,744 metres, it’s time to descend from the opposite side. First gear is almost completely excluded in Auto mode, but by acting on the gearbox from the paddles on the steering wheel (or from the lever itself) I let the V8 gulp down all the possible engine revs, unleashing that bedlam of sound that I just can’t do without. I almost reach 7,000 rpm and throw in another of the 8 gears, remaining between second, third and fourth, for the simple fact of having at my disposal at any moment all that frightening power that moves the F-Type incredibly quickly. The set-up never becomes too rigid and perhaps I would have preferred an even more extreme step, but it is precise enough to allow me to push my limits further in the section that leads towards the valley, where the hairpin bends definitively leave room for faster curves and straight sections allow a taste of the acceleration offered by the supercharged V8.

I wish all this would never end, yet it will end today. It’s time to decelerate, loosen your grip on the wheel, and savor another intrinsic aspect of days like this. If the moment before brings into play a tension that tightens the heart and that of the frenzied driver literally unplugs the brain, it is the moment after that emerges with an often muffled sensation of inner peace and calm. With the heartbeat still accelerated and the eyes full of those wonderful curves, the air entering the cabin mixes with the adrenaline which slowly seems to discharge from the body in a mixture of satisfaction and complacency. For a moment you feel almost dizzy and while your head seems to retrace the most excited moments you have just experienced several times, it is as if you are placing your feelings in a safe place, where you can keep them forever. You half close your eyes, now nothing matters except the fact that this moment can still be yours and finally you relax your body leaning your head against the backrest as if it were the loving palm of God’s hand.

It’s a sense of accomplishment and completion that only happens when all the elements fit together, and to do that you need a special car. The F-Type has never been perfect in the absolute sense and neither is the R75, but it is undoubtedly one of the best instrument to close an era and leave a bitter taste in the mouths of enthusiasts who would have loved that an automotive grace of this kind could never end. I wonder if maybe it’s better this way. Maybe this is how it has to go, because if there were no limits and there wasn’t an end we wouldn’t be able to fully appreciate things, much less moments like these. The F-Type is probably all of this, a sort of introspective journey that allows us to experience an emotion that would otherwise be relegated to non-existence, precisely because knowing that it will not be something eternal, it makes sense to be there here and now, for us who can enjoy it.

Today was a day marked by mixed emotions. The infinite emptiness due to the awareness that it will be something unrepeatable, mixed however with the explosive joy granted by the amplification of certain sensations unleashed by a V8 screaming violently towards the sky, never so close as on these roads. If life is made up of moments that characterize it, this will undoubtedly be one of those that I will take with me and while I take a last look at that Jaguar enjoying the sun at the top of the pass, I smile because getting down from here means a lot of hairpin bends, curves and everything that consecrates the F-Type R75 as one of the most beautiful pieces of the automotive panorama. One more grunt, let’s make it worth it. Always.