I have been recently been taking a journey through the back-lot that is my memory these days, reflecting upon the experiences of my past and coming up with some real treasures.  Don’t get me wrong, I am not about to go off and start tilting at windmills or something like that, but I have just had a period of melancholyness, if there is such a word?

A time for reflection perhaps, that may have something to do with recently hitting the half-century, which means that unless I get to the ton, I have lived for most of my life already, and I realise that it could be all downhill from here.  However, I have not quite reached the stage of checking for nasal hair, so I don’t think I am doing too bad so far. I think what had started my ramble through the synapses was a recent sojourn to the old alma mater of Oxford with some visiting American friends. When thinking about that historic city I started reminiscing and thinking about life, with all its coincidences, and among my thoughts I recalled to mind a particular friend who owned two cars of the same marque, and how had wanted to sell one of them off. Another friend, whom I shared a house with, was in the market for a car at the same time and I managed to put the two of them together.  The result was that money changed hands and I had two friends who were both proud owners each of a Jensen Interceptor.

Even back then this was a rare car to see on the uncluttered highways and byways of this green and wonderful land, and for there to be two of them within the same circle of friends, as I look back on it, I regard that as having been quite extraordinary. Back then a group of us would annually attend the British Grand Prix in one of these motors, and this was seen as a much-to-be-looked-forward-to outing on our calendar. In those days the race would alternate yearly between Silverstone and Brands Hatch, and I now find myself wondering why did they ever stop this idea? Brands always gave better racing (they did that then) and spectator view in our opinion. Anyway, we would all leave on a Friday, and return on the Sunday in 7.3 litres of Gentleman’s express.

Flooring the loud pedal in this car would see the fuel gauge rapidly heading off left, but it didn’t seem as expensive in those days, nor did it seem to matter, and in any case it ensured a quick return along the M40 to where we could turn on the TV to watch the re-run, listening to Murray Walker’s classic commentaries, “And there goes……………….here comes - and oh my goodness, it’s James Hunt…I think.”  Ah yes, those were happy and simple days.

The coincidence during my period of reflection on life continued, as a few days later, when I was returning from Bruntingthorpe Proving Ground with a Ride Drive customer, and travelling through a local village, I noted a Jensen Interceptor on the front drive of a house that adjoined the main road.  What a sad sight this was. The car was just rotting to death, as its condition appeared already to be beyond terminal.  Here was a car that was once a great piece of British automotive artwork that was now lying in decay with its time ever nearing the scrap yard, and seeing what was once a real alternative to an Aston, but with more attitude and grace, in such a state was heartbreaking. I found myself for a moment wanting to take it home with me and care for it before it finally collapsed in a pile of oxidised metal, but I fear it was already beyond anyone’s help.

Tomorrow's another day, as the saying goes, and we move on, but I will probably pass that way again soon and no doubt it will still be there, looking even more miserable. However, you cannot imagine my surprise when on the following day Jules at the Ride Drive office called to give me an assignment.  He wanted me to contact a local company that hires classic cars, and to my absolute surprise, one of the vehicles was an Interceptor!  “There is another man out there who likes these cars, and is prepared to let you borrow one,” he said. "Can you contact the man and arrange to have the car for the day and then do a write-up on it; oh, and take your camera with you?" Right, I had better get in touch then, I thought.

So, that was the beginning of an adventure, during which I came to try out not just one classic car, but two!  Picking up the phone I was soon in touch with the man in charge, Graham Eason of Great Escape, a small Warwickshire based company that hired classic cars to the public. Graham has been running Great Escape-Classic car hire from his premises near Stratford on Avon since earlier this year, and as he explained, he arrived at the idea from having once tried to hire a Porsche 911 for a friend’s 40th birthday.  This was more difficult than he thought it would, or needed to be, and whilst mulling it over he decided to start his own classic car hire business.

Graham has a background in marketing and business strategy, and has always enjoyed cars -  Alfa Romeos in particular.  He felt he could improve on this type of car hire business, particularly in terms of making great classics more accessible to the public with the ease of delivery to the customer. With this in mind he built a website, complete with the functionality to complete the total process of reservation, booking and payment on-line, and so far, Great Escape is the only classic car hire company website to offer these facilities. When I visited him in the summer of 2007, Great Escape was in a position to offer customers a 1974 Mark-3 Jensen Interceptor and a 1992 Alfa Romeo Spyder, this second car I will be writing about in the next edition.  More recently, a 1988 5.3-litre Jaguar XJS convertible and a 1959 Morris Minor 1000 Traveller have been added to the range.

When the appointed date had almost arrived, the sense of anticipation on the previous evening made me feel like a child at Christmas Eve, wishing for the next day to be here so as to dive into the presents and I just knew this was going to be worth the wait.

I met up with Graham and his Jensen on a fine summer's day in August. This was one of those occasions when it felt good to be alive, and upon driving through the gates to his premises I saw the car, thirty-plus years old and looking as fine as the day she drove out of the West Bromwich factory, waiting just for me. Having greeted and made our introductions, Graham explained a little of the car’s past. “We spent a long time looking for the right car,” he said, “and finally bought this one because it was structurally in excellent condition. It needed an engine overhaul, as it had spent a lot of time standing around.  We had the motor rebuilt to standard specification, so as to make the driving experience more enjoyable and reliable for our customers.”

Well I don’t know about the oily bits, but the bodywork looked superb.  These cars have a presence about them, and even when stationary, with the sun catching panels along the side making the Brienz Blue coachwork sparkle, I was already flying through the Cotswold lanes before I even opened the door.

The Interceptor was first launched in 1966, and in various stages of its development, continued uninterrupted until 1976; a run that ended with the Mk3.  After a break in time, this being brought about by the economic collapse of the company in that year, in 1984 the Mk4 was launched by a newly revived Jensen company with hopes of bringing the car back to life.  However, this brave attempt again ended in collapse, and in 1991 the end had come.

The Interceptor model was a combination of body styling by Italian coachbuilder Vignale, and in the form of the Mk3, of which 4,255 were built and powered by a 7.2-litre Chrysler V8 that produced 330bhp, with an official top speed of 133mph.  This third incarnation of the model was produced from 1974 to 1976, and as an improvement over previous editions, sported vented front brake discs, air conditioning as standard and alloy wheels.  Ownership, however, came at a astronomical price, as in its day the big car cost more to buy than the equivalent Aston Martin, double the price of an E-Type Jaguar, returned at best a meagre 13 miles to a gallon of fuel and attracted such repair and servicing bills that one could have mistaken them for being telephone numbers.  So you see, ownership of this car was not to be taken lightly.  However, and undeniably, this was and still is a fast, luxurious, and certainly a car that has a presence on the road that it has made completely its own.

As Graham introduced me to his car I suddenly felt a great sense of awe as I realised that I was in the presence of something really rather special.  Although arguably in its day it could have been regarded as totally ostentatious, here I was looking at a piece of high quality engineering and craftsmanship that represented the once very proud and world-leading era of the true British car industry.  Whilst I felt honoured and privileged to have been entrusted with taking possession, albeit temporarily, of this fine piece of automotive history, I couldn't help but feel just a little saddened that whilst this car indeed represented those great times, it also stood as a monument to remind us of what we had lost as a nation.

However, pushing those thoughts aside, I opened the big heavy driver's door and was instantly met by the strong and luscious smell of fine leather that was mixed with those other stimulating odours that only the interior of a quality British classic car can produce.  Already I could feel the sap rising and I knew at this point, greater than ever before, that I was in for a real special automotive treat, and one that would create memories that would live long with me.

Inserting the key, and giving it a twist, the starter spun the engine feely, sounding not unlike that of a Supermarine Spitfire turning over before its Merlin engine fired.  It was that sort of noise, totally stimulating, and one that created a great sense of expectation that something tremendous was about to take place. A second or two later and the big V8 burst into life, rising momentarily before settling down to a soft and unmistakable rhythmic V8-type burble.  This was the stuff that stirs the soul, the like of which automotive poets will write about long after the very last car, as we know it, has gone from the planet.  This was going to be an awesome experience and it was going to be one that was all mine to enjoy.

Beaming both on the inside and out, I waved my goodbyes and pointed the long bonnet towards to gate and at the road.  Where I was going to drive the car mattered not, as this was a day for the journey, not the arrival.

As I motored my way through town to collect the wife and the picnic hamper, I suddenly became aware that I was still grinning like some demented idiot.  It is that sort of car. Beneath a bonnet, that has the length of a cricket pitch, the lazy V8 purred and burbled as only a V8 can. I was surrounded by hide and dials that just oozed quality from every quarter, as my senses were being invaded by smells of leather and nostalgia. I had a feeling of bonhomie to my fellow man, as for the merest second in time, I felt I was slightly better than others on this planet, and had to show graciousness to those less fortunate. It was all rather cosy.  More like a gentleman’s Bayswater establishment than a car, where a club soda and cigar would have completed the scene.

You have to say they don’t make them like this anymore, well perhaps somewhere they do, but if that is the case then mere mortals like us do not get the chance to get behind the wheel of it. At least through Great Escape the mere mortals can enjoy some motoring grandeur, and I was certainly enjoying mine driving through town, watching people turn, look and follow the car from sight with their gaze. I could not help but repeatedly catch the car’s reflection in shop windows, and with the electric windows lowered to listen to the engine doing what it should, I was secure with the knowledge that it was ever ready to do its stuff should the right-hand pedal be pressed nearer the deep pile. Indeed, despite the passing of quite some years since I had been so closely acquainted with one of these beauties, I realised I had forgotten the oddities within the car.  I quickly had my memory re-awakened by recognising the fasten seat belt sign near the gear selector, the foot operated dip switch, the ashtrays mounted on the upper area of the front doors; by the quarter light, and exactly where the smoker from the 70’s would want them placed. I had wondered if I had only remembered this car through rose tinted spectacles, but I needn’t have worried. Yes, it is still a big car, but one that remains so easy to drive. The steering is light and responsive, it has a large airy cabin that lets in plenty of light, this of course being helped by that goldfish bowl of a rear window, it also giving excellent visibility.  Ideal for parking, and in fact this was the easiest car to park I have driven in many a year.

With wife and picnic hamper collected it was now time to examine the car in greater depth. Heading out of town, and with speed building, the levels of quietness and smoothness of ride were still impressive. Pressing my right foot down even further and the quiet purr of 7.2-litres turned into a progressively louder roar as the old girl hitched her skirts up and took off for the hills lying somewhere in the distance. Yes, it has leaf springs at the rear, but cornering at speed did not worry this old girl, as she held the road like she had always belonged there.  This was the technology of the day, and if it was good enough to be fitted to a Jensen back then, it was good enough for me today.  I found that for a large car it could be hustled along quite nicely and would even put many a modern car to shame when taken briskly over the twisty bits.  Indeed, stepping on the gas would embarrass plenty more besides.

As I returned back to lesser and more discrete speeds the engine settled down again to a lazy burble, but this is such a responsive and quiet engine, and a worthy tribute to its makers.  At 50 mph it only just ticks over at 2000 rpm in top gear, taking the car along the road with a level of quietness and refinement that may justify me for being forgiven when raising that old cliché about just being able to hear the ticking of the clock.

Having allowed myself to indulge in some boyish play I pulled myself back to a more sober place and thought about how to conduct some practical research on public opinion.  The adventure with the car had been arranged for the purpose of gathering material for an article to be published on the Ride Drive website, so I thought I really should set about my job.

My trick was to park it up in the market place of the picturesque Cotswold town of Stow On The Wold, and I have to say there was hardly a more fitting venue for such a car. I stood a few feet away, just close enough so that I could see and hear the reaction of passers by. It didn’t take long, and what was heard from many was very much all given along similar lines.

"A Jensen! Haven’t seen one of these for ages, what a great car, I remember when …"

In fact the car caused quite a stir, and even though it didn’t actually belong to me, I enjoyed a degree of pride as I passed through the collected throng, and playing to my audience’s approving looks and nods of agreement, I fired her up and moved off gracefully. It’s that sort of car.  Drivers and pedestrians love it, but I need to correct myself from an earlier statement in which I said they do not make them like this anymore, as now I realise they don't - not anywhere.

Like all good things there is never enough time to enjoy them completely, and it was far too soon when the sun started falling over the yardarm signalling the coming of the appointed hour at which I had to take this old girl home. Without doubt this is a fantastic car, and when driven through the glorious British countryside, with the sun shining, it rarely does get any better.  I would like to thank Graham Eason of Great Escape for making this day possible. It was absolutely wonderful.

Great Escape Classic Car Hire can be reached on 01527 893733.  See our Approved Services Page for more details.