Curbside Classic: 1985 Jaguar XJ-S Eventer by Lynx – Brake Or I’ll Shoot

Ah, the shooting brake. That most elusive of body styles. Not always easy to pull off, either. Sure, Volvo did very well with the 1800ES, as did Reliant with the Scimitar GTE, but remember that poor BMW Z3? That’s part of the difficulty, I guess: some coupés (or roadsters, as the case may be) can be turned into shooting brakes, others will never look right. With the Lynx Eventer, the question becomes: why did Jaguar not include it in their range, pure and simple?

The XJ-S, when it debuted in 1975, had big, E-Type shaped boots to fill. And it filled them as best it could, but that just wasn’t good enough. It was born in a troubled company, Jaguar, owned by a troubled conglomerate, British Leyland, situated in a troubled country, the UK. And the less said about the rest of the world, the better. The XJ-S had a very hard few years, then it sort of became accepted as it was, warts, flying buttresses and all.

In July 1981, the High Efficiency engine reared its twin heads. This was a most welcome development, as the V12 now produced close to 300hp (up from 285hp previously) and required less dinosaur juice to do so. Quality control improvements were also noted, and sales finally started to head in the right direction. But there was still something missing: the only body variant available was the coupé.

This is not when Lynx enters the story, because they were already there. Established in 1968, they were initially your traditional repair and maintenance outfit, especially (but not exclusively) focusing on older Jaguar racing cars. By 1974, Lynx started manufacturing C-Type and D-Type replicas, and soon they began modifying contemporary Jags and Daimlers. These included turning the XJC into cabriolets and, from 1976 onward, the XJ-S Spider.

Perhaps because they were busy keeping their heads above water while HMS British Leyland was going down, Jaguar took ages to get in on the drop-top fun (first with the targa SC, but the full convertible only joined the range in 1988), leaving Lynx a nice long time in the sun to rake in the dough. And just as Jag were sort-of catching on to the cabriolet concept with the SC, Lynx wisely presented the Eventer in the summer of 1982.

Coachbuilding was seen as a thing of the past, so contemporary journos referred to the Lynx Eventer as a “conversion”. Well, I don’t know that’s the best word for it, but you can certainly call me a convert! The rear end styling finally makes sense.

Lynx did essentially the same job that Chapron did to create Citroën DS cabriolets or what Ghia did to make Imperial limousines, and they were coachbuilders. The process started with a complete XJS coupé. Lynx cut the roof just aft of the B-pillar, fashioned a new C-pillar further back, welded a roof extension with gutters to the original roof section, built a rear hatch by using the original boot lid and welding a handmade rear windscreen frame to it, built a completely new petrol tank with a filler cap (originally located in the coupé’s flying buttress) on the left wing, reworked the boot structure so the spare wheel could fit there unobtrusively and reinforced the rear end structurally.

Inside, Lynx removed the rear seats and refashioned new ones, set further back and lower, which turned the 2+2 coupé into more of a four-seater shooting brake. But the rear seats could also be folded flat, turning the Eventer’s cargo area into quite a cavernous (yet luxurious) usable space. At least a couple of cars were made without any rear seats at all. Some Eventers were also fitted with sunroofs, but not this one.

Up here in the front seats, it’s all stock Jag XJ-S, as far as I can tell. I’m guessing that Lynx tried to match the colour of the original upholstery for their section in the rear – picking black would have made the job a little easier.

It’s impossible, without knowing the build number of this particular car, to actually know when it was made. Many customers would bring their XJ-S fresh from the showroom floor, but that was not universally the case. This one looks like an earlier car, but that’s because the base car is an early ‘80s XJ-S. For all I know, Lynx might have worked their magic on it circa 1990. There is a very handy website (in French, strangely enough) that tries to ID every Eventer, and this one, though it has been spotted in Tokyo since the 2000s, is one of the “unknown build number” cars.

Lynx carried on with the Eventer until 2002, long after Jaguar stopped coupé production. There was obviously a lot of demand for them. The “conversion” took 14 weeks and everything was done to order by the same super-specialized craftsmen, so there must have been quite a backup. Most Eventers were made on the pre-facelift XJ-S, but some newer cars also got the treatment. At that point, Lynx were feeling confident enough to brand their product, too: our feature car, though it does have an “EVENTER” script, is still badged as a Jaguar, whereas later cars were badged as Lynxes.

In total, Lynx made just under 70 Eventers in twenty years, including 12 facelift cars and only four 6-cyl. models. A modest number, to be sure, but just enough for a few copycats to attempt the same thing: a shady French outfit called Les Ateliers Réunis produced a dozen or so extra cars, without Lynx’s knowledge or sanction, in the ‘90s. Another car was made by a Swiss artisan circa 1983 – he essentially had the same idea as Lynx did around the same time – and by a Belgian one in the early ‘90s.

I have a feeling that the original Lynx Motors Co. is no longer in operation, but it’s surprisingly hard to find confirmation. There is a profusion of companies, defunct or active, bearing that feline name all over the world – some automotive, others not. Schrödinger’s Lynx? Whatever the case may be, and whatever they are called nowadays, companies like Lynx bore the torch of the ancient art of coachbuilding into the 21st Century. The myriad safety regulations, new materials, electronics and other issues have rendered coachbuilt cars almost extinct, but not quite yet.

The Eventer, along with the Volvo 1800ES, the Radford Aston Martins and the Peugeot 504 Riviera (look it up, sadly a one-off) is a superb shooting brake, a true representative of the body style. In fact, because it looks so much better than the coupé it was hewn from, one could claim it’s the most successful of the bunch.

 

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