The Hero in Black and White
The golden hour sunlight cast a warm, tranquil glow over the paved trail, masking the tension lurking in the tall grass beside it. Max, a loyal Dalmatian with striking black spots, paced restlessly near the edge of the path. His keen senses were locked onto a hidden danger that human eyes could not yet perceive: a massive, aggressive wild boar lurking just out of sight.
His young owner, a girl in a blue hoodie, was happily distracted, kneeling by her fallen bicycle as she reached down to pick up a small metal can caught in the wheel. At that exact moment, two runners approached from behind on bikes. Unaware of the lurking threat or the dog’s protective intent, the lead cyclist swerved, clipping the girl’s bike and sending her tumbling harshly onto the pavement.
To the horrified onlookers, it appeared as though Max had suddenly snapped, lunging aggressively toward the fallen girl. Shouts echoed across the path as a man rushed forward, frantically shoving the dog away and pulling the terrified girl to her feet, completely misinterpreting Max’s fierce defensive stance as a vicious attack.
Disoriented and pushed aside, Max refused to back down from his post. He stood his ground over the bicycle, eyes locked on the tall grass. Suddenly, the bushes violently parted. With a terrifying roar, the massive wild boar charged out of the brush, lunging directly toward the group.
In a fraction of a second, the illusion shattered. The onlookers froze in absolute terror as the true threat revealed itself. But Max didn’t hesitate; he immediately squared off against the beast, bravely risking his own life to shield the humans who had just misunderstood him. As the boar retreated back into the brush, the heavy silence of realization settled over the trail. The misunderstanding was gone, replaced by profound gratitude for the misunderstood hero in black and white who had saved them all.
Driving Steve McQueen’s 1957 Jaguar XKSS, One of the Rarest Jags of All Time
Heading for the Hollywood Hills at the wheel of the legend’s beloved Jaguar XKSS.
Matt Stone Writer John Kiewicz Photographer Mar 25, 2026
[This story originally appeared in the September 2004 issue of MotorTrend.] Cool. Handsome. Talented. Paranoid. Driven. Mercurial. Idealistic. Straightforward. And sexy. Sexy as hell. These are but a few of the words used to describe Terrence Steven McQueen.
Even now, nearly 25 years after his passing, Steve McQueen’s legend lives large. A troubled, dyslexic, often homeless youth who found his calling on both stage and set, McQueen was the most complex of human beings. He could be kindhearted one moment, evil-spirited the next. He exhibited a wicked sense of humor and a violent temper. He was always the perfectionist. A man’s man. And a lady’s man.
ADVERTISEMENT – CONTINUE READING BELOW
McQueen’s complicated life and wildly successful career paralleled the tenets of theater itself: Comedy and Tragedy. Possessing a steely blue gaze and a smoldering moodiness, he magnetized everyone with whom he came in contact, whether in person or only through the silver screen. His gritty sex appeal made him a star in life and a Hollywood icon ever since that life was cut short when he died on November 7, 1980, succumbing to cancer at only 50. Steve McQueen and his contemporaries—Newman, Brando, Garner, Coburn, and others—for decades defined the genre of macho American actors.
McQueen biographer Penina Spiegel quotes Faye Dunaway as saying, “He’s the misunderstood bad boy you’re sure you can cure with a little warmth and some home cooking.”
Photo: Getty Images
The King of Cool (and His Machines)\
You don’t need to be Ebert or Roper to notice that cars and motorcycles were a common, often elemental, recurring thread in McQueen’s films. And his love of and affinity with all things mechanical was legitimate and genuine. The first notable sighting was the bike he rode in The Great Escape. Remember the near-human relationship with a ship’s steam engine he portrayed in The Sand Pebbles?\n\nThen there was the dune buggy—which he had built and drove—in the beach scenes with Dunaway in the original The Thomas Crown Affair. Don’t forget the cult motorcycle documentary, On Any Sunday. Two films best demonstrate Steve McQueen’s passion for cars: Bullitt (1968) and Le Mans (1971). There’s not a car fool worth his driver’s license who can’t recount the iconic San Francisco chase scene between Lt. Frank Bullitt’s grumbling green Mustang fastback and a pair of gun-wielding baddies in a black Dodge Charger. Fans have dissected it to the most minute detail, and McQueen drove the Mustang in all but a few of the toughest action sequences.\n\nADVERTISEMENT – CONTINUE READING BELOW\nLe Mans was one of McQueen’s pet projects, and this film also gave us insight into his pursuits in motorsport. It was his intent to produce a motion picture that captured the passion and pain of endurance racing with as much realism as possible. This meant on-location filming, before, during, and after the 1970 race, with McQueen at the wheel of a Gulf-liveried Porsche 917 as much as possible. The production was a disaster; filming ran long and ended up way over budget, directors came and went, and Steve’s marriage to first wife Neile was coming unglued. But the film, like Bullitt, has become a car-guy classic. Le Mans also was home to one of McQueen’s more famous lines: \”Racing is life. Anything that happens before or after is just waiting.\”\n\nSteve McQueen possessed considerable driving talent. Maybe not enough to compete at the very highest levels, but, like Paul Newman, he could’ve enjoyed a solid career as a journeyman sports-car racer had he chosen to do so.\n\nADVERTISEMENT – CONTINUE READING BELOW\nA clear example was his participation in the 1970 Sebring 12-hour enduro, teamed with Peter Revson in a fast and reliable, if somewhat dated, Porsche 908/2. Porsche’s newest 917s fell by the wayside with mechanical difficulties, but the little 908 purred along, creeping up the leader board as the hours went by. It took no less than a flying Mario Andretti, driving a faster Ferrari 512, to catch and overhaul Revson for one of the closest finishes in Sebring history. Revson and McQueen finished a hard-earned second overall. Steve ran the race with one foot in a cast, the result of a recent motorcycle accident.\n\n\n\nFrom Le Mans Legend to Street Machine\nMcQueen’s earliest cars were MGs, but with success came the wherewithal to afford better—and faster—hardware: a Lotus 11, a 289 Cobra, Ferraris. There were Porsches and Packards, too. He owned dozens of cars, more than 100 motorcycles, and a few airplanes at the time of his passing. Among them was a 1957 Jaguar XKSS, chassis number XK.SS.713.\n\nJaguar was a dominant force in racing during the 1950s. Ferrari was already a major player, and on the right day, Aston Martin and Maserati got their licks in. Porsche’s star was rising, too, but it was Coventry’s fast, dependable, and downright beautiful XK120Ms, C-Types, and D-Types that commanded so many sports car and endurance races. Jaguars won the 24 Hours of Le Mans five times that decade, notching an Audi R8-like hat-trick in 1955, 1956, and 1957 (although the last two came courtesy of the privateer Ecurie Ecosse team), plus countless other professional and amateur victories in Europe and the United States.\n\nIt’s the D-Type that was, and remains, among the definitive front-engine sports racers of the era (not to mention having served as the design and engineering inspiration for the E-Type that followed in 1961). It was straightforward, yet technologically advanced for the time, powered by Jaguar’s already legendary XK DOHC inline-six. Designed during late 1952 and 1953 and raced by the factory team from 1954 to 1956, the D-Type employed a unique chassis layout, which evolved considerably during the car’s life. Everything aft of the firewall was a monocoque tub; everything forward of it was a tubular structure that held the engine, front suspension, and aluminum front-hinged hood. It’s the rare race car that’s both effective and beautiful, but the D-Type was one. This sensual form was the work of Jaguar designer and aerodynamicist Malcolm Sayer and the company’s founder and patron saint William Lyons.\n\nADVERTISEMENT – CONTINUE READING BELOW\nSteering was via rack and pinion, and Dunlop supplied the disc brakes and handsome alloy knock-off wheels. The suspension was conventional for the day, with upper/lower wishbones and torsion bars up front and a live axle and trailing links out back. Most factory D-Types were equipped with 3.4-liter XK engines wearing a trio of side-draft two-barrel carburetors and employing dry-sump oiling. The earliest were factory-rated at around 250 horsepower, and the engine was backed by Jaguar’s own all-synchro four-speed transmission. Naturally, the D-Type evolved over the years: There were \”long-nose\” and \”short-nose\” body configurations, more power, and nearly all wore a prominent fin on the rear deck to improve high-speed straightline stability. It’s a compact machine, too; at 154 inches long, a D-Type is more than an inch shorter than a current-generation Mazda Miata.\n\nJaguar built D-Types for its own racing endeavors, plus \”customer cars\” to be sold to privateer teams. In total, 67 such D-Types were constructed (plus the factory’s own racers), and they competed into the early 1960s. But by the time the factory pulled out of racing after the 1956 season, the car was becoming dated as a front-line racer. For the 1958 sports-car racing season, 3.0-liter engines were mandated, and the D-Type’s performance was hampered by the smaller displacement. Ferrari’s Testa Rossa was much more powerful, and the factory Aston Martins were faster, too. Jaguar found itself stuck with 25 customer D-Types—and no customers.\n\nIt’s not clear who first came up with the idea to convert them to street specs and sell them as limited-edition GTs, but that’s what Jaguar did. A full-width windscreen was added up front, and just-adequate top and luggage rack were grafted onto the rear deck in place of the dorsal fin. Removable fixed pane side curtains were mounted to the doors. A vestigial exhaust system was devised, including a shield that only somewhat reduced the number of calves that were singed
