The Washington Post, August 4th, 1989
IT WAS a day of beautiful light, perfect for the car in question, the 1989 Jaguar XJ-S convertible. I washed the car's steel-gray body, buffed and polished it, stepped back and took a look. I was flooded with mixed emotions, having not gotten over that cute, red Mazda Miata convertible I drove a few weeks ago. I wanted to remain loyal to my infatuated heart. But that fine XJ-S body was glistening in the sun, free of any hint of the pathetic redesign that turned the once-super-sexy Jaguar XJ-6 sedan into a neutered cat. I kept thinking: "I like the Miata convertible better. The Miata makes more...
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