Fresh from four days in Scotland driving the simply astonishing Ferrari F8 Spider, there are times in one’s life where you have to sit back, take some time, and genuinely let an experience wash over you. You need to take it in. Revel in it. The smells, the sights, the sheer visceral nature of it. A surprisingly sun-filled week in June was one of those moments: invited to Scotland by Ferrari, to sample some of the best roads, hospitality and people one could wish to find. It was an invite that my editor accepted on my behalf without a word spoken. He knew. I found out. Now it’s your turn.
The grandfather of the segment is the Land Rover Range Rover. Not the Range Rover Sport, not the Velar, not even the Discovery. The full fat, bonnet at shoulder height, wafting armchair that is the Range Rover.
As far as statements of intent go, it doesn’t get any grander or more opulent than the Boat Tail. Having been sent the pre reveal press literature, I have spent an almost alarming time since, perusing over every detail, over every curve, every fixture, every decision taken, every whim that was answered.
There is sometimes a theme in automotive tests, where, for want of entertainment, a concept is created, one that rarely showcases any usable information on the car in question. ‘We hooked a caravan to the Urus and entered the Harewood Hillclimb’. I mean, what in the hell is that telling the intended purchaser? Unless it’s an Airstream, and the hill climb is actually the Tete de Chien, it’s normally well wide of the mark.
Whether the grid of challengers will be able to break Hamilton and Mercedes dominance, only time will tell. One thing is for sure, that simply hearing the name, Aston Martin, in commentary; one can’t help but think Formula 1 could be heading back to its former glory.
The first generation of Bentley’s Bentayga didn’t do much for me at first. I think my issue was that, as a partner cog in the VAG machine, they should have learnt from Porsche’s mistakes with the straight-up-ugly original Cayenne. Then I had coffee. More specifically, I was sat on a Kensington street sipping my morning cortado, and there sat a Bentayga. Black with the large Mulliner five spoke alloy wheels (thankfully in silver).
The DBS is a car whose name leads you into the detail of its performance, intent and form. DBS were three letters first seen in 1967 in the William Towns designed original, created to replace the, by now, rather portly DB6.
I can’t quite remember when the phrase ‘things used to be better’ became a fixture in my thinking. I’m 38 but feel more and more like an octogenarian when faced by the world we live in today.