I struggle to think of a more enjoyable car to drive or own than this. It’s sublime, a rolling sculpture with stunning road manners and chassis dexterity, that is evocative of its era and stays with you for a very long time afterwards.
Top GEaR
What is it?
‘Restomod’ is probably the word that describes it best, but maybe that hints at west coast customisation which this emphatically isn’t. So let’s start with the bare facts.
In 1963, Jaguar built 12 lightweight E-types, intending them for racing. They were lighter and more powerful than standard, but never matched the success of the C-type and D-type on track. Fast forward fifty years and in 2014 Jaguar, utilising previously unused chassis numbers, built another six. Those are continuation cars. This is something different.
Maybe you’ve heard of Eagle before. Based in Southern England, it’s a Jaguar E-type specialist with a difference. Although it started out in 1984 restoring, servicing and maintaining cars, in 1991 it went further and began to re-engineer models itself – its own take on what an E-type could be. Eventually this took them another step, recreating historic models but with new bodies. We’ve featured them before: the Speedster, the Low Drag GT, the Spyder GT and now this, the Lightweight GT.
In total, the firm has made around 60 cars over the last 30 years – 50 faithfully recreated E-types and (over the last decade or so) a mere 12 rebodied specials. Not because of lack of demand: after it featured on the TG TV show, the waiting list hit seven years. Maximum production is four cars a year and each takes around 8,000 man hours to create, with 2,500 hours alone going into the hand-crafted aluminium bodywork, 400 hours into the interior trim and 120 hours to build and test the engine.
This new Lightweight GT follows Jaguar’s original recipe – but takes it further. Rather than the original 3.8-litre 300bhp straight-six, this uses a bored out 4.7 with 380bhp and a five-speed manual, rather than the original’s four.
But you can’t see the value of the car in the spec sheet. Everything, everywhere you look, is bespoke. The engine’s triple Weber carburettors suck air in through a carbonfibre intake and 3D-printed housing, and exhale it through an F1-grade Inconel manifold of staggering beauty, before the gases pass out of a titanium exhaust.
Eagle has then taken the lightweight ethos and really run with it. To the nth degree. The wheels may have a classic Sixties look, but they’re fabricated in magnesium (around 25 per cent lighter than the equivalent part in aluminium). So too are a host of parts you’ll never see: the sump, diff casing, gearbox, bell housing and more. This is an astonishing amount of effort to go to – way more than any modern car manufacturer goes to when doing lightweight versions of their latest supercar. They might save up to 100kg. Eagle’s Lightweight GT weighs over 200kg less, an all-up weight of just 1,017kg.
Underneath, about a third remains of the original donor car. In the case of this particular example, that was a 1963 roadster. The monocoque chassis mostly survives, but stiffened to beyond original Lightweight levels, there are double wishbones at the front, and at the back the same independent set-up E-types have always had. There are Ohlins adjustable dampers all round, and the option to have different gear ratios or run the car with fuel injection instead of carburettors. You tell Eagle what you want, and (as long as they agree) they’ll make it happen. They’re guardians of the E-type. Taste, heritage and originality are everything.
The cost? Around £800,000, including the donor car. Think of it as commissioning a work of art, or investing in a family heirloom more than buying a car. Does that sound like a stretch? Just stand back, look at it and tell us we’re wrong.
Driving
Are we losing the spirit of driving? Here’s a car that makes you think we might well be getting it wrong. Imagine a car so addictive in its manners and behaviour that all you want to do is drive. Imagine a car that sings, not just from its rasping engine, but from every component.
Modern supercars aren’t like this. You digest them in chunks. A couple of minutes of sweaty insanity, then you back off and have a word with yourself. End result: the car and driver are often only communicating properly in short bursts. But halve the power, halve the weight, remove the complication and let the mechanics reveal themselves instead of being cloaked behind electronics, and you have a very different, much richer and more involving experience.
You twist the key in the dash centre and thumb the starter button. It catches immediately and instantly fulfils all your fantasies about being sat on the start line at the Goodwood Revival. The clutch operates beautifully, the gearbox snicks gracefully into first and with no apparent effort, you’re off.
And it’s this economy of movement, this perfectly judged response that tells you, well, tells you you’re not actually in an original E-type. There’s no play in the steering, no creaks from the cabin, the gearbox isn’t a maze of blind alleys, the engine doesn’t baulk low down. These are not flukes. They’re the result of years and years of knowledge carefully, diligently, applied – the craftsmanship that goes into the bodywork is mirrored in the way the Eagle is set-up to drive.
The 4.7-litre straight-six breathes through triple Weber 45 carburettors. Eagle says they’re a pain to set up and can be temperamental. They’ve found the balance, no question. Zero hesitation or stuttering low down, and then this rich, immediate torque delivery and glorious accompanying music as the revs rise. It’s muscular, torquey in a way only a beefy naturally aspirated engine pushing ‘not much’ can be. Then at 3,500rpm it really comes on cam, the rasping intensifies, the Lightweight GT kicks again and you’re off on your way to the 5,800rpm limiter. And you get there fast.
You get everywhere fast – much quicker than anyone who clocks a vintage E-type would ever expect. It’s not a car you want to test the 0-60mph of, but with a power-to-weight ratio of around 380bhp/tonne, it’s fast in a way proper modern stuff is fast. Even with a manual gearchange. No ABS or traction control to save you if you get it wrong, but at no stage will you be worried about that because you get such communication and confidence from the car.
Despite Eagle’s modifications (chiefly larger box sections in the sills) there is a bit of shiver through the chassis, but it never rattles the steering column or throws the car off line. Instead you turn in, you need more lock than you would in a modern car and the steering wheel rim is bigger, but you steer it lightly, with your fingertips, and it responds accordingly. Hands and wheel set up a dialogue.
You do the same with the chassis balance. It doesn’t roll much, but the high profile tyres (205/60 R16 and 235/60 R16) have that bit of squidge to let you know which end is working hardest. The Ohlins dampers are adjustable and, if it were me, I’d be tempted to back them off a little, just introduce a hint more roll and pliancy. But then the Lightweight GT is a racer, and if you approach it from that angle, you realise the set-up not only suits it, but is also very forgiving and benign. You don’t slide £800,000 one-off restomods around without being extremely confident in the car’s behaviour.
Grip is just out-matched by power, but it’s so beautifully delivered and controllable that you find yourself not wanting to stop driving. Diving into corners, letting the Lightweight squat, getting on the power, feeling the weight transfer backwards and the rear tyres maybe squirm a little as the 4.7 howls again.
It’s an addiction – the addiction of lightweight and precision engineering. Because all the while you’re driving, you’re also thinking about the componentry underneath, the cylinders thrashing up and down, the magnesium diff casing, the Inconel exhaust glowing hot. This knowledge enriches the experience, introduces a desire not to go fast, but just to operate it well, feel the gear lever click softly into the next gear, the engine come on cam.
If I’ve got a criticism of this one, it’s that the gearing is too long, the engine just dropping out of the powerband between gears. It’s no biggie, and it’s just how the owner wants it set up – and it does mean it pulls less than 2,000rpm at 70mph, making it surprisingly capable for long drives. You can have it with a retro hi-fi, and you’ll be able to listen to it, because it’s much quieter inside than out.
Out, especially when you lift off the throttle, is raucous. The Lightweight GT is narrow on the road and that long bonnet isn’t as intimidating as you expect, nor does it feel like you’re perched on the back axle. Strong brakes, too. They’re lovely to operate, natch. The biggest compliment I can pay is it drives like you’d imagine a classic to drive in your wildest dreams.
On the Inside
Open one of the doors. Note how perfectly they open, how light they are in your hand, but how solidly they close. This really isn’t easy to achieve. It’s the reason many small car companies have doorless cars. Moving on. Door open, you absorb the leather. It’s more than just observing it – there’s a warmth and depth to the colour that seems to give it an inner glow of health. The cows come from Florida, apparently. It’s wrong to say it looks like new – no E-type ever left the factory looking this good, this fresh and energetic, this well finished.
Eagle drops the floorpan, moves the pedal box and rear bulkhead to liberate more space in the famously cramped cabin. You slide down and in. The door aperture is small, but you don’t feel hunched inside, instead you feel at ease, well supported in Eagle’s own seats, eyes casting ahead admiring the instruments, the view out over the long bonnet. You automatically want to touch and feel everything, because you just know the action of the toggle switches and window winders will be perfect.
Two things jar. The stippled aluminium console is period correct, but I’m not a fan (apparently it’s also a bugger to make, aluminium rolled under huge pressure by a holey-roller), and the small air vents work beautifully, but look more like the overhead vents on an Airbus. Of course, there are other options. Provided Eagle agrees and they’re in keeping – buyers requests have been known to be turned down.
There’s space behind the seats for stowage and the boot - although oddly shaped as it also houses the fuel tank - is big. Further practicality: thin pillars and a low rear deck mean you can see out easily and although it’s not particularly designed to, with machined brackets holding it in place, the roof can be removed. You could – and absolutely should – use this for weekends away. For long-range road trips. Because things look so much better when viewed from the cabin of a Lightweight GT.
Owning
It’s an heirloom really. Such is the staggering personalisation and effort that goes into the creation of a Lightweight GT, this is not a car you’ll be wanting to move on after a couple of years to make a profit and create room for something else. If it is, you’ve missed the point and, to be frank, Eagle should have weeded you out sooner. It’s a long-term investment, with future values guaranteed by the length of the waiting list and tiny build numbers. Eagle’s reputation is well deserved.
But nor should it be a garage queen, left to suffer the fate of so many and rarely venture outside four walls. It might be a classic, but much of the unsung work Eagle does is focused on making its cars friendly, usable and reliable. So they always start, the engines don’t run out of tune, petrol doesn’t leak from perished seals, the clutch doesn’t jerk and the brakes don’t give you half a second’s terror before anything happens. They just work. And they work beautifully. So don’t worry about the fuel economy – just know that when you do stop, you won’t have petrol splashing all over your shoes.
This usability breeds satisfaction every bit as much as the intoxicating driving experience. Knowing you have a classic that won’t let you down, that has been built to your exact requirements with a level of personalisation that’s one step beyond your wildest dreams… well, that’s got to feel good, hasn’t it? And what is this car, this investment for, if not to make you happy?
Verdict
It costs £800,000 and it takes 8,000 hours to build. On a simple cost/time analysis the Eagle Lightweight GT stacks up incredibly well. One hundred pounds an hour? That makes it far better value than a Ford Fiesta. Viewed another way, it’s also significantly cheaper (and doubtless better to drive) than an original Jaguar Lightweight GT.
But a cost justification isn’t the way to treat this car. You’re buying something far more valuable, you’re buying masterful craftsmanship, beautiful components operating beautifully inside a beautiful body.
It may not have the historic importance of an original, but if that doesn’t matter to you - and nor does the modern hypercar trend for outright speed and brand image - then I struggle to think of a more enjoyable car to drive or own than this.