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The Ghost in the Machine: Driving Steve McQueen’s 1957 Jaguar XKSS on Mulholland Drive
By [Your Name], Industry Veteran with 10 Years of Automotive Expertise
Few names in American culture evoke the intoxicating cocktail of rebellion, charisma, and automotive obsession quite like Steve McQueen. The “King of Cool” wasn’t just an actor; he was a force of nature, a man who lived life at redline and left an indelible mark on cinema and car culture. While his filmography boasts legendary driving sequences—from the iconic Mustang chase in Bullitt to the high-octane drama of Le Mans—it was his personal collection and his late-night exploits on the winding roads of Los Angeles that truly cemented his legend among gearheads.
Among his most cherished possessions was a car that perfectly embodied his complex identity: a 1957 Jaguar XKSS, chassis number XK.SS.713. This isn’t just any vintage Jaguar; it’s a street-legal race car, a rare artifact from an era when the line between the track and the road was delightfully blurred. It’s a car that witnessed the raw, unfiltered passion of McQueen in his prime, a time capsule that carries the ghosts of midnight drives and rebellious spirit.
Today, as we navigate the same legendary asphalt of Mulholland Drive, the echoes of McQueen’s presence seem to linger in the air. With a decade of industry insight under my belt, I’ve had the privilege of experiencing some of the world’s most incredible machines, but few possess the soul-stirring allure of McQueen’s XKSS. It’s a vehicle that doesn’t just transport you through space; it transports you through time, offering a visceral connection to one of Hollywood’s most enigmatic icons.
The Man, the Legend, the Machine
Before we delve into the driving experience, it’s crucial to understand the man behind the wheel. Steve McQueen—born Terrence Steven McQueen—was a walking contradiction. A dyslexic child who spent time in reform schools, he rose to become one of the highest-paid actors in the world. He was a man of deep introspection who craved the adrenaline rush of competition. He could be brutally honest one moment and disarmingly charming the next. This volatile mix of vulnerability and machismo made him irresistible to audiences and a perpetual enigma to those who knew him.
His love affair with machinery was no mere affectation for the cameras. McQueen was a genuine gearhead, a hands-on tinkerer who found solace and purpose in the mechanical world. His garage wasn’t a museum; it was a workshop. He owned more than 100 motorcycles and a staggering collection of cars, but the XKSS held a special place in his heart. It represented the purest form of his automotive passion—a race car stripped of its racing frills and unleashed onto the streets he called home.
The Genesis of a Legend: From D-Type to XKSS
To fully appreciate the significance of chassis 713, we must first understand its lineage. The 1950s were the golden age of sports car racing, and Jaguar was a dominant force. Their D-Type, a purpose-built racer designed by the brilliant Malcolm Sayer, was a marvel of engineering. With its aerodynamic monocoque chassis and the legendary XK inline-six engine, the D-Type secured multiple victories at the grueling 24 Hours of Le Mans, including an impressive hat-trick in 1955, 1956, and 1957.
However, by the late 1950s, the D-Type was facing obsolescence. Racing regulations evolved, and the car’s 3.0-liter engine limitation put it at a disadvantage against the more powerful Ferraris and Aston Martins of the era. Jaguar found itself with a surplus of D-Types that were no longer competitive on the track. Rather than let these magnificent machines languish, the company devised a brilliant solution: convert them for street use.
Enter the XKSS. This wasn’t a watered-down version of the D-Type; it was a full-blown racer adapted for road use. Jaguar added a full-width windscreen, rudimentary side curtains, a vestigial luggage rack, and a passenger-side door—features that seem laughably inadequate by today’s standards but were revolutionary for a street-legal race car in 1957. Only 16 XKSS models were ever built, making them rarer than many Ferraris of the same vintage.
Chassis 713: A Hollywood Pedigree
McQueen’s XKSS, number 713, has a pedigree as storied as the car itself. Originally delivered in right-hand drive to James Peterson, a California contractor involved in the construction of Riverside Raceway, the car’s journey through the Hollywood elite is the stuff of legend. After passing through the hands of radio personality Bill Leyden, it caught the eye of a young, ambitious actor who was rapidly making a name for himself.
Steve McQueen purchased chassis 713 in 1958, reportedly for $4,000. He immediately set about making it his own. The car was repainted from its original white to a deep, lustrous British Racing Green, a color that perfectly complements its predatory stance. Renowned hot-rodder and upholsterer Tony Nancy reupholstered the interior in black leather, adding a touch of bespoke luxury. Perhaps the most iconic modification was the addition of a metal glovebox door, reportedly to prevent McQueen’s aviator sunglasses from flying out during spirited drives.
For years, the Green Rat, as McQueen affectionately called it, was his constant companion. He would take it to Mulholland Drive, his personal testing ground for speed and handling. The distinctive roar of its straight-six engine became a familiar sound in the Hollywood Hills, a signal to locals that the King of Cool was on the loose.
The Haunting Beauty of Design
As I approach the XKSS, the first thing that strikes me is its sheer aesthetic power. Even in a world saturated with modern supercars boasting aggressive aerodynamics and angular lines, the XKSS possesses a timeless beauty that is almost feline in its grace. The design, a collaboration between Malcolm Sayer and William Lyons, is a masterclass in form following function.
The bodywork appears to be stretched taut over the chassis, every curve purposeful, every line contributing to its aerodynamic efficiency. The long, flowing front fenders arch gracefully over the wheels, reminiscent of a cat poised to pounce. The signature dorsal fin of the D-Type has been replaced with a subtle luggage rack, but the car retains its predatory essence.
Getting into the XKSS is an experience in itself. At 6’1\”, I’m accustomed to spacious cabins, but the XKSS is a snug fit. The cockpit is compact, intimate, and decidedly driver-focused. The wood-rimmed steering wheel sits close to the chest, and the large Smiths gauges—the tachometer and speedometer dominating the instrument cluster—are positioned directly in my line of sight. There’s a refreshing lack of clutter; no infotainment screens, no electronic nannies, just pure, analog motoring.
The Symphony of the Straight-Six
The heart of the XKSS is its magnificent XK engine. This 3.4-liter inline-six, blue-printed and enhanced by McQueen’s modifications, is a testament to Jaguar’s engineering prowess. As I turn the key, the starter motor grinds against the high compression ratio (a formidable 12.0:1 for the era), and the engine barks to life with a raw, unfiltered roar.
There’s no sound-deadening here, no attempt to mask the mechanical symphony. The exhaust note is a visceral, throaty gurgle, a sound that seems to vibrate through the very core of the car. It’s a sound that commands attention, a sound that speaks of power and purpose.
My right hand rests on the aluminum gear shifter, its stubby form begging to be worked. The clutch pedal is firm, requiring a deliberate foot to engage. This is not a car that tolerates timidity. As I select first gear, I can feel the mechanical engagement, the satisfying thunk of metal on metal.
Mulholland Drive: The Echoes of McQueen
As I pull out onto Mulholland Drive, the urban sprawl of Los Angeles stretches out before me like a glittering carpet. But my focus is entirely on the road ahead. Mulholland, with its sweeping curves and elevation changes, is the perfect stage for the XKSS. It’s the same road where McQueen honed his skills, where he pushed the car to its limits under the cloak of darkness.
The asphalt here is a patchwork of textures, a testament to years of varying weather conditions and road repairs. Yet, the XKSS handles it with remarkable composure. The steering is direct, immediate, providing a level of feedback that is almost shocking by modern standards. Every bump, every undulation in the road surface is communicated through the steering wheel, creating a tangible connection between driver and machine.
In an era of electric power steering and digital assists, the raw mechanical feel of the XKSS is a revelation. It demands your full attention, rewarding your input with a level of engagement that is simply unattainable in modern vehicles. There’s a reason why drivers seek out classic cars—it’s not just about nostalgia; it’s about reclaiming the pure joy of driving.
The Art of Shifting
The gearbox in the XKSS is a study in contrasts. The shifter is notchy, imprecise if treated with indifference. But with the right technique, it transforms into
