A photograph in an issue of Best of British featuring a sleek Jaguar 340 saloon speed machine served as an instant reminder of the 1960s when I was in the former Somerset Constabulary.
At that time, the force was using two of these magnificent vehicles, primarily on ceremonial duties. Both Jaguars were painted in glorious British racing green. The curved shape was spoiled only by the
presence of a single revolving blue lamp mounted in the centre of the roof and a whip aerial on the rear off-side wing. With the exception of the blue lamp, the only outward appearance of a police car was a small POLICE sign mounted at the front and rear.

As far as the interior was concerned, this too was typically un-police like. The seats were upholstered in soft leather, the carpets were deep pile and the interior trim was real walnut veneer. They were truly production models.

Although the vehicles were used on ceremonial occasions, they were employed on routine patrol duties too. It was my own good fortune to be posted to Road Motor Patrol in 1966. I could not believe my luck when I learned that one of the Jaguars was to be mine – well figuratively speaking. It was indeed a dream come true.

The Jaguar 340 – I thought that they were actually still called 3.4 saloons at that time -was one of those vehicles which one either loved or hated. From my first turn behind the wheel, I was well and truly implanted in the love category. The power of its three and a half litre engine had to be experienced to be believed and it is probably the smoothest drive I have ever known.

If the vehicle had one fault then it was at very low speeds. The absence of power steering resulted in almost tank-like
manoeuvrability in confined spaces. Once on the road, though, it was a very different story.

Traffic patrol officers of the day were expected to keep their vehicles in as pristine a condition as possible. For this reason, each car was allocated to one crew. This resulted in almost loving care being lavished upon the vehicles. It was very much pride which resulted in beautifully turned-out patrol cars taking to the road. At the end of each patrol and sometimes half-way

through if the weather was inclement, the cars were treated to a wash with cold water and sponge followed by a careful drying with a chamois leather.

This daily care was backed up by a monthly waxing. At the end of three months or so, the engine was thoroughly cleaned and its chrome parts were polished. Much of this tender loving care was administered in the crew’s off-duty time. Was that only thirty years ago?

My year and a half with my beloved Jaguar 3.4 was filled with great pride. There is, however, just one sour note to record.

Taunton Motor Club sponsored an annual competition for the Road Motor Patrol section of the force. Vehicles from all over Somerset converged on the disused airfield at Culm-head, near Taunton, for an afternoon of tests of driving skills and expertise.

The vehicles and crews were also judged as part of the competition, on their turn-out and appearance. Much preparation went in to this event. The main sprucing up process was carried out the day before the competition.

Our Jaguar’s deep green paint work shimmered in the sun-light and it is no exaggeration to say that you could have eaten your meal off the engine. It was so clean. Even minor things like wheel nuts were painted with black paint. Nothing could be ignored. The preparation done, the car was garaged and we went home to press and brush our number one uniforms ready for the following day’s judging.

Sunday dawned bright and sunny. The festivities were due to commence at 2 o’clock and we arrived at the garages in plenty of time. It immediately became apparent that all was not as it should have been. Instead of enjoying the protection of its garage, our vehicle was outside at the bottom end of the yard. We breathed a sigh of relief as we approached it. It was in the same pristine appearance that we had left it the previous day.

Then, horror of horrors, we saw the front off-side of the vehicle. Shock would be one way of describing our feelings at seeing the damage which had been caused. Our hearts sank and, to use a phrase in common parlance, we felt as sick as parrots.

We never really established why a colleague had decided to use our patrol car for his night tour of duty. Perhaps he was a Jaguar lover too. Whatever the reason, we were forced to withdraw from the competition. There was no time to prepare another vehicle which would give us any chance of success.

Not long after this event,
though not as a result of it, the vehicle was sold. The policy at that time was to keep the vehicle for about 100,000 miles and then dispose of it through the car auctions at Frome. It was a sad day which was lightened somewhat when I was detailed to take it on its last journey as a police car. On our way to Frome, I decided to give it one last burst of speed. The vehicle had completed something like 120,000 miles and was still capable of 100 miles per hour. Marvellous!

The sleek lines of the Jaguar 3.4 were replaced by the slightly more powerful Jaguar 3.8 saloon. We were terribly disappointed to find that, when it was delivered, white paint had replaced the British racing green, plastic seats had taken over from the soft leather and the trim was a sort of uniform black imitation ebony. It had speed, I suppose, but no more than the vehicle it had replaced. It had curves too, but somehow they were not as sleek.

Yes, it was a Jaguar, but somehow it wasn’t the same. I think the pride had gone..

Alan Potter