When Richard Hammond bought a Series 1 E-type Jaguar back in the days when we were doing Top Gear, I must confess I felt quite jealous. And then the feelings of envy got worse when it doubled and then trebled in value. My money was in the bank earning sod all. He was driving about in his money, and it was going up in value at about 100 per cent a year. And there's no capital gains tax on a classic car, which killed me with even more despair.
Happily, he hung on to the car, assuming that the money tree would continue to grow, and then, blam, the market for E-types stalled, so it's now worth roughly what he paid for it. I'm not punching the air as I write this, I promise. But I am smiling.
There's a question, though. Why did the market for E-types stall? I asked Hammond, who says that these old Jags are very much the canaries in the classic car market: "They were the first to rise when the market took off and now, they're the first to start falling."
Hmm. That's an interesting observation, but I'm not sure it holds water because, if you look at the market as a whole, classic car values are not falling. Only recently, for instance, someone paid nearly 800,000 USD for a Ford Sierra Cosworth.
I think I know what's going on. When I was a kid my bedroom wall was festooned with pictures of E-types and Ferrari Daytonas and Jensen Interceptors. These were the dream cars back then. And as a result, they were what people of my age bought when they reached middle age and had a few quid in the bank.
But today people of my age have arthritis and cataracts and wonky knees. And they (we) don't fancy the idea of squeezing our frail and broken bodies into an old classic for a weekend trip to the local. We'd rather use a Range Rover.
So, what of the next generation? Ah well, this is where it gets interesting, because to someone in their forties the E-type was never a dream car. They look at it in the same way that I look at a Vauxhall Prince Henry or any of those other old crocks with running boards and all their controls on the outside. Getting them to be interested in a Daytona would be like getting them to be interested in a top-loading washing machine.
What they want are the dream cars from their childhood, which is why that Sierra Cosworth went for more than half a million quid. And it's why the value of cars such as the Nissan Skyline, the Subaru Impreza and the Lancia Delta Integrale are skyrocketing.
So, what's next to be catapulted into the firmament? I should explain from the outset that I'm really not qualified to comment. I once sold a BMW 3.0 CSL for 4,000 USD, which is about 200,000 USD less than I'd have got if I'd waited a bit. And I once declined a Ferrari 275 GTS because it was 120,000 USD. Today it would cost me more than a million.
However, I'm going to stick my neck out and say that if you're in the market for a future classic, I'd buy a first-gen BMW M2. It meets all the criteria. It was a bedroom poster star for the tail end of the PlayStation generation, whose bitcoin endeavours will soon provide them with the wherewithal for a weekend classic. It was good-looking. And, most importantly of all, it was a very good car. A genuine belter.
Which brings me neatly on to the car that has replaced it, the new M2. I was nervous about this, if I'm honest, because I recently experienced the new M5 and, dear oh dear, BMW has made a right old hash of that. Too complicated. Too hybridy. And far too heavy.
And when the new M2 came lumbering through my gates my hopes were not raised. This is not a looker. It's like the old M2 was Russell Crowe in Gladiator and this is Russell Crowe now.
Part of the problem are the bumpers, because someone has plainly told Bee Em's stylists that plastic can be moulded so that an attractive shape results. It can't. If you mould plastic to accommodate vents and curiosities, you end up with something that looks like the modular bathroom units you find in budget motels. That's what this car is then: Russell Crowe with a face that looks like a Formula 1 team’s lavatory.
Inside you are faced with what appears to be a huge council house television, a wall of glass almost a metre across, and you just know that it's going to take about an hour to find the bit of it you must push to turn off all the health and safety nonsense.
Yet, if truth be told, it turned out to be quite intuitive. And then I noticed the seats, which are part carbon fibre and part leather and, my God, they hug you. I've always said the seats in the old Renault Fuego Turbo were the best I've encountered, but these optional extras (of course) are even better.
And then, whoa, what's this sticking out of the centre console? It can't be. But it is. A gearlever. I was terrified. I haven't driven a car with a manual box for about thirty years and felt certain I was going to spend my week bunny-hopping away from the lights and stalling at every roundabout.
Strangely, I didn't. It all came back as though it had never gone away, and soon I was wondering if it isn't the way forward. And then I found out that, in the Middle East, the manual is a no-cost option (unlike in the UK). Don't even hesitate, as it suits the machine perfectly. After all, this is a BMW M car and they're for drivers and having a clutch to double D with is part of that.
It turns out there's a facility on the vulgarsonic television that you can engage so that the revs "blip" on a down-change. I liked this when I first encountered it on a Nissan 370Z but I didn't want the BMW doing things for me, so I turned it off. And played.
One of my favourite games was putting it in fourth and at a medium speed gently squeezing the throttle so that I could feel the torque from that twin turbo straight six in the pit of my stomach. Or putting it in second and flooring it so I could feel the power. There's plenty of both.
Handling? Well, it's a 473bhp, rear-drive BMW M car, so yes, it's fabulous no matter which of the electronic options you select. Mainly this is down to the fact there's no excess weight from a hybrid drive system. Admittedly, it isn't quite as exciting as the first M2, but the ride comfort is way better. Even in super-nuts mode it's tolerable. In comfort it's sublime.
Other things? Well, the boot's big, the rear seats are just about useable, and the price (65,000 USD) is steep – especially if you remember that an M3 cost 45,000 USD in 1997 – but it's not idiotic. Apart from the tryhard looks then, this is a seriously good car. I'd say it's as good as the new M5 is bad.
But I can't quite get it out of my head that you could buy an old M2 for half the price. It's a little rougher but doesn't bong at you if you break the speed limit. It'll also probably appreciate in value. Either way, just get a manual M2. You won't regret it.