BOSTON — The Jaguar F-Type was one of the first sports cars I drove when I was but a cub automotive journalist a decade ago.
It was at a media event in the mountains of Colorado, and I was smitten. First launched in 2013, the F-Type hasn't changed much since. It saw a facelift in 2019, with a few changes to the powertrain, tweaks to the exterior and not much else.
With an iconic look crafted by legendary Jaguar designer Ian Callum, the F-Type evoked speed, luxury, and sex appeal — at least, that was the hope of the old men who bought it to drive to the country club.
The F-Type is on the way out after 2024, more than a decade after its launch. As car companies are wont to do, Jaguar has created a series of Special Editions to price gouge— I mean, build a collector's item for its loyal fans.
This brings us to the 2024 Jaguar F-Type R75, my test car for the week. A fully-loaded convertible with a fully-loaded price tag that is a nice bottle of wine short of $120,000, it's a pricey goodbye. The Cadillac CT5-V Blackwing, which I absolutely adore, is more powerful, more comfortable, and has more seats, is more than $15K cheaper. Perhaps it's fitting that I drove them on consecutive weeks, then.
In other words, it's time for the F-Type to go. But I'll still be sad because this is a soul-stirring car. There were a variety of engine options over the years, but the R75 has a glorious supercharged 5-liter V8 that makes 575 horsepower and 516 torque and, more importantly, a jaw-dropping exhaust noise.
That exhaust note is eye-shatteringly loud with the top down, even more so when driving spiritedly on a leaf-strewn backroad. Every upshift comes with a resounding WHAP, not unlike the crack of a whip, echoing off the surrounding trees.
It also features the most unnecessary button I've ever found in a car, emblazoned with a small emblem of the F-Type's shotgun-esque exhaust pipes — when pressed, it makes the exhaust louder (or, I suppose, quieter).
There's no need for it, as I would smash it every time I got in the car and then leave it on forever. Like so many sports cars, the exhaust sound of the V8-equipped F-Type reaches deep into the primitive recesses of your brain, hooking up to the same adrenaline generators that lit up when your ancestors heard the sound of a Jaguar (the feline kind) on the prowl.
And that's what the F-Type is all about, particularly in the convertible guise. It looks exceptionally excellent from the back, and for folks who don't know better, it looks extremely fast. And it's not exactly slow, going from zero to 60 mph in under four seconds, but it's slower than the competition in the same price range.
In my review notes, I wrote, "Steering is old, suspension is old, design is old, interior is old, engine is wicked good, sound is wicked good, interior design is awful, cargo space is awful. There's a reason this is the last F-Type."
Upon climbing in, it's immediately obvious that the interior was designed before the advent of smartphones. There is no place to put your phone, which is ironic because it does have (wired) CarPlay, which worked approximately half the time. The USB port is in a tiny storage cubby in the armrest, large enough for the USB cable itself but not the phone, so I ended up plugging in my phone and dropping it on the passenger seat.
It's cramped inside, with little room for your legs and even less for your head when the top is up. There are far too many buttons, and visibility is poor.
But when you lower the top, turn up the exhaust, and drop it into sport mode, the F-Type comes alive. It'll never end up on a race track or at an autocross event, but for a blast down an empty, leaf-strewn road in the golden hour sunshine, I don't know if there's a better car out there.
But when you turn off that road and hit some traffic or the highway, you'll wish you had something a bit more modern, a bit more comfortable, and a bit less old.
Part of the journey is the end, and it's time to park the F-Type for good — and, if rumors are to be believed, the entire Jaguar brand with it. That would be sad for British car fans, but perhaps this is how it was always meant to be: A final V8-powered goodbye, roaring off into the distance.