The Bruiser and the Cruiser: Driving the ECD Jaguar E-Type V-12 GTO Roadster and V-8 Coupe

A pair of heavily restored and customized Jag E-Types bookend the incredible range of ECD Auto Design’s repertoire.

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067 2025 EDC E Type Group

Some look upon a vintage car and see a machine stuck in time, but those with enough time, talent, and money know how adaptable they can be, so long as you’re willing to sacrifice some amount of originality. ECD Auto Design expanded from remastering classic Land Rover Defenders and Range Rovers to Jaguar E-Types a few years ago and has since pushed bounds of the iconic car’s versatility. As evidence: this V-12 1969 E-Type GTO roadster and V-8 1973 E-Type Coupe.

But Jag Never Made a GTO …

Correct! What you see here is ECD’s idea of what a high-performance factory E-Type might’ve been like if the company had built one back when. With the benefit of hindsight, the restorers and modifiers down in Florida—by way of England—took their pick of Series I, II, and III E-Types to create this hot-rodded roadster. The underlying chassis is Series II, the custom bodywork based on the Series I (universally agreed to be the best-looking version), shorn of its bumpers and stretched to fit the longer wheelbase of the later cars, and the front subframe and rear differential lifted from the Series III.

That last bit is crucial, because the Series III came with a V-12, and that’s what’s lurking beneath all the extra louvers in the hood. A proper pain in the ass to build then and now, this one’s been stroked from the original 5.3 liters to 6.8 by Team CJ. It makes an estimated 450 hp now, a healthy improvement over the original 272. Gears are changed manually in the new Tremec five-speed box, and the rebuilt rearend gets a mechanical limited-slip differential.

Today, though, it’s reminding us why everyone hates the Jag V-12. Thankfully, it’s far easier to diagnose as its ignition and fuel delivery are handled by modern computers. Cranking up the fuel pressure puts an end to its recalcitrance, at which point it demonstrates the buyer’s wisdom in waiting out the long rebuild and tuning process.

The noise alone would be worth it. Whatever you think European V-12s sound like, forget it. This is no Italian screamer. From somewhere in the combination of massive displacement and Series I pea-shooter tailpipes comes a sound best described as a vintage racing V-8 with extra cylinders. The honk from the 12 throttle bodies alone nearly overwhelms the rumble from the tailpipes. From the cockpit, it sounds like standing next to the wall at a vintage race.

It feels like what we’d like to imagine those old race cars were actually like to drive, though in truth it’s almost certainly significantly faster and sharper. Everything takes work. The throttle pedal is stiff, pulling all those ITBs open, and there is a moment’s hesitation between when you put your foot into it and when the car lunges forward. Off and running, it bellows all the way to its vintage-low redline and never slackens. Changing gears requires a strong right arm and a left knee in good condition. This is the lightest clutch ECD could find, and it still takes a good kick followed by precise return as you take up the long return just before the bite way up top of the travel, when your knee is bent nearly 90 degrees.

ECD Jags are far more than engine swaps, thankfully. Every one gets Fosseway brakes with six-piston front and four-piston rear calipers. (The rears remain inboard, in classic E-Type fashion.) They don’t require as much leg strength as the clutch and are far easier to modulate thanks to terrific feel.

It wouldn’t be much of a GTO if it didn’t turn, so the Gaz manually adjustable shocks (two in front and four in the rear) and upgraded anti-roll bars fitted to every car are set stiffer on this one than the typical build. The rear cradle has been modified to fit coil-over shocks and make way for substantially wider wheels and tires.

The result is a night-and-day difference compared to an original E-Type. Revolutionary as it was in its day, a Series E-type was prone to running out of suspension travel followed by bump steer. Not this one. It’s absolutely tied down yet still composed over big bumps, even when already loaded up. Thanks to a modern Ford steering rack and smaller Momo wood-rimmed steering wheel, it attacks corners with glee. Roof off, engine screaming, this is what we dream of when we imagine being a racing driver in the 1960s.

Raucousness Not Required

It’s also a matter of preference. The other car parked at our makeshift basecamp near the water’s edge couldn’t be more of a contrast, and not just because it’s a fairly straightforward Series III coupe.

Set up for boulevards rather than back roads, the coupe is an entirely different animal. Despite packing far more modern technology than the roadster, it looks far more retro, save the obvious LED headlights. The roadster is the far prettier car, even if it looks a little odd raked like an old American muscle car, which is exacerbated by the long wheelbase but at least pays off in significantly more interior space than a Series I or Series II car. Sitting normally and on narrower tires that still tuck fully under the fenders as originally intended, the coupe only has to contend with its awkward but somehow charming roofline.

Under the hood of this one is ECD’s bread-butter-conversion, a Chevrolet LT1 crate V-8 and 10-speed automatic transmission. Funny enough, the custom-built, quad-pipe, fantail exhaust is a nod to the car’s heritage as a Series III despite being the one with only two cylinders per pipe, not three.

Don’t expect it to sound like a Camaro, though. While the lopey firing order still peeks through, there’s less bass at the bottom of the register and less rasp at the top. It sounds like a V-8, but one you can’t quite put your finger on.

Drop the custom, vintage-look shifter in place, and it lacks the immediacy of the V-12 but not the total output. It’s plenty quick, just not as violent. The tune is mellower, more about oozing off the line than winning stoplight drags. Unless you’re counting, you don’t really notice it has 10 forward gears, as it’ll happily skip a few when the occasion calls for it.

The steering is just as quick (same rack), but the dampers have been turned down several clicks and are much softer. Obviously, the ride is smoother, but you also get more vertical motion over big bumps, which gives it just a bit of that old car float in a way that feels deliberate, not unavoidable. It still corners better than any original E-Type, but its demeanor is entirely subdued compared to the roadster despite using all the same fundamental parts.

Owing to its daily-driver mission brief, there are more concessions to modernity, and they’re more obvious. The roadster has a heated windshield and seats, but they’re controlled by vintage-looking toggle switches so as not to stand out. The coupe uses the same toggles but also features a fully up-to-date stereo head unit with a touchscreen and backup camera, not to mention automatic headlights.

Both feature a riff on the Series I dashboard, and we prefer the roadster’s interpretation with its push-button starter and massive, centrally mounted headlight switch. The original-looking but modern radio in the roadster is also far less jarring, as are the sealed-beam but LED-powered headlights. Were they our builds, we’d swap the coupe’s manual parking brake with the roadster’s electric unit, but we’re not the ones on the hook for the former’s $399,000 price tag or the latter’s $599,000 sticker.

Were you one of those kids who taught themselves to identify cars at night by their headlights and taillights? I was. I was also one of those kids with a huge box of Hot Wheels and impressive collection of home-made Lego hot rods. I asked my parents for a Power Wheels Porsche 911 for Christmas for years, though the best I got was a pedal-powered tractor. I drove the wheels off it. I used to tell my friends I’d own a “slug bug” one day. When I was 15, my dad told me he would get me a car on the condition that I had to maintain it. He came back with a rough-around-the-edges 1967 Volkswagen Beetle he’d picked up for something like $600. I drove the wheels off that thing, too, even though it was only slightly faster than the tractor. When I got tired of chasing electrical gremlins (none of which were related to my bitchin’ self-installed stereo, thank you very much), I thought I’d move on to something more sensible. I bought a 1986 Pontiac Fiero GT and got my first speeding ticket in that car during the test drive. Not my first-ever ticket, mind you. That came behind the wheel of a Geo Metro hatchback I delivered pizza in during high school. I never planned to have this job. I was actually an aerospace engineering major in college, but calculus and I had a bad breakup. Considering how much better my English grades were than my calculus grades, I decided to stick to my strengths and write instead. When I made the switch, people kept asking me what I wanted to do with my life. I told them I’d like to write for a car magazine someday, not expecting it to actually happen. I figured I’d be in newspapers, maybe a magazine if I was lucky. Then this happened, which was slightly awkward because I grew up reading Car & Driver, but convenient since I don’t live in Michigan. Now I just try to make it through the day without adding any more names to the list of people who want to kill me and take my job.

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