Bigger and better?
THINGS ARE NOT what they seem. This is not a Jaguar C-type, and nor is it a C-type replica. The Ecurie Ecosse LM-C may share certain styling cues (alright, a of styling cues) with a C-type, but it is different in just about every respect. Not least the fact that it’s 4in wider and 8in longer.
Five examples of the LM-C are being built at the re-incarnated Ecurie Ecosse, based at the not-very-Scottish town of Henley-on-Thames. Two are finished, one is well on the way, and the remaining two are on the stocks. All will be powered by a 4.2-litre version of a well-known straight-six that most definitely does not have a marque name on its distinctive cam covers and which has fuel injection rather than three carburettors, coupled to a Tremec five-speed ’box.
To be honest, unless you were a Jaguar expert, you’d never guess that this isn’t one of the cars that inspired it. Not until you glanced inside and noticed the dashboard and door panels fully trimmed in leather, the unique Ecurie Ecosse logo’d instruments, or the modern transponder switch in the door jamb. The amount of extra room in the cockpit will be a welcome surprise to anyone who’s travelled in a genuine C-type, though.
I was lucky enough to do that for the Mille Miglia in 2014 (see Octane 134) and am pleased to discover that, despite all the differences, the LM-C feels and looks just right. ‘We took the opportunity to clean-up some of the lines,’ says Chris Randall, MD of Ecurie Ecosse, ‘and of course we had to integrate the light units to satisfy IVA [Individual Vehicle Approval] requirements. The extra width and length have been carefully apportioned, so it’s not as if we just stuck four inches greater width in the cockpit or eight inches in the bonnet.’
The panel fit and finish is superb (the body is made in Coventry from superformed alloy) and the doors shut with an authentic lightweight ‘thunk’. Climbing behind the wheel may be slightly easier than in a genuine C-type, but only slightly; you still need to support your weight on the cowl behind the driver’s seat and lower your legs into position.
It’s well worth the effort. While undeniably plusher than its 1950s inspiration, the cockpit of the LM-C doesn’t look anachronistic. Indeed, you pull a knob marked ‘Crank’ to start the engine – which splutters for a few seconds before it fires up. Reputedly, this is a deliberate feature, designed into the fuel injection’s ECU mapping for more olde-worlde authenticity.
Hmm. The idle speed is very lumpy, too, the straight-six feeling like a hot-cam four-banger in a 1950s hot-rod, an impression exacerbated by the loud side-exit exhaust. You have to give it quite a lot of revs to pull away smoothly. On the 2014 Mille, we had to do plenty of trickling through medieval Italian town streets, and our 1953 C-type was a lot more tractable than the LM-C. It’s hard to be subtle in the latter.
Chris Randall is well aware that there’s room for improvement here. ‘This is not the first car we’ve fitted with this kind of fuel injection but it has hotter cams than we’ve previously used,’ he tells me. ‘We’ve started to re-map
it and it’s already about 50% better than it was originally.’
The upside of using fuel injection – based, in this case, on Bosch componentry with an F88 ECU from Life Racing – is that the LM-C’s engine will run on regular unleaded while delivering 300bhp. Chris says the car is geared to top-out at 157mph and its 0-60mph time is about 5sec.
No chance of getting to even half that maximum on the roads around Henley – but I can totally believe the 0-60 figure. Send the rev-counter needle dancing above 3000rpm and the LM-C goes, appropriately, like the proverbial scalded cat. It is ballistically fast, and it emits a proper race-car snarl, if one that’s slightly more two-dimensional lower down than a carburetted car would make. The Tremec’s gearchange also has a similar weight and throw to a 1950s Moss ’box’s.
But here’s the best news: the LM-C handles and rides superbly. The steering, in particular, is just perfect, having a proper vintage feel – such that you let the wheel float gently in your hands, rather than grasp it in an iron grip – while being comparatively light and direct. It’s a real joy.
The car’s ride is very wellcontrolled, too. It’s never harsh and it’s not too firm. Dynamically, the only aspect you need to keep a metaphorical eye on is the brakes, which work perfectly well but are unassisted, a fact you’ll be wellreminded of if you’re suddenly called upon to rein-in 300bhp of straight-six. Same with the tyres: the back end will happily step out if the road is less than bone-dry and you dump the throttle.
But that’s all part of the appeal, isn’t it? You have to really ‘drive’ this car. Having felt slightly ‘meh’ beforehand about the prospect of testing yet another re-imagined classic, I came away feeling totally energised and re-enthused. And, even at a price of £430,000 plus taxes, I don’t feel it’s ridiculously expensive. I’d have one, for sure.
‘Send the rev-counter needle dancing above 3000rpm and the LM-C goes, appropriately, like the proverbial scalded cat’