More Bite (and Bark) From Aston’s Pretty Baby
PRICE OF POWER Adding 4 cylinders to a Vantage costs $15,000 apiece.
WHAT IS IT? A rare British sports car at a royal price.
HOW MUCH? Base price, $181,345; as tested, $194,110.
WHAT MAKES IT RUN? 5.9-liter V-12 (510 horsepower); 6-speed manual gearbox.
IS IT THIRSTY? So much that the government slaps on a $3,000 gas-guzzler penalty. The E.P.A. rating is 11 m.p.g. in town and 17 on the highway.
ALTERNATIVES: Audi R8 5.2, $151,750; Ferrari 458 Italia, $230,275; Lamborghini Gallardo LP 560-4, $207,995; Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG, $185,750; Porsche 911 Turbo, $136,450.
SO you think you’re a supercar? With a puny 400 horsepower, you’re not. Not to sound crass, but that’s stock Corvette territory. I’ve driven Mustangs with more grunt.
If you expect to lure an exotic-car lover over the six-figure fence — where money really does grow on trees — you’ll need 500 horses, minimum. Audi got that memo with its R8, a $118,000, 420-horsepower sports car that was awfully good, until a 525-horsepower V-10 version made it seem awfully tame. The R8’s first-class upgrade also costs $33,000 extra, enough to buy one of those 412-horse Mustangs.
Aston Martin has crunched similar numbers with its two-seat V-8 Vantage. The baby Aston — yes, it’s one spoiled baby — has been the smallest and least expensive car in the lineup, priced around $122,000 with a 420-horsepower 4.7-liter V-8. Now the V-12 Vantage adds a 510-horsepower wallop, transforming this British beauty into a supercar with a bark to match its bite.
Since the Aston Martin name carries more upper-class clout than Audi’s (and because only 200 V-12 Vantages will be shipped to the United States through 2012), the company will charge $60,000 extra for its cylinder-enhanced version.
The Aston certainly has the looks, luxury and pedigree to get away with highway robbery. More surprisingly, the Vantage gains enough performance under its lovely skin to make itself a defensible alternative to supercars from Ferrari, Porsche and others.
Those defenses include a 6-speed manual transmission, the only shifter offered. Thanks to a tall center console, that royal-scepter shifter is awkwardly situated for some drivers, a point that Aston belatedly noticed: a removable pad built into the cup holder, the size of a Tiffany ring box, serves as a makeshift ottoman for the driver’s elbow.
Yet the shifter feels creamy, the clutch take-up is less persnickety than with Aston’s $270,000 DBS, and you can’t have a manual at any price in the Ferrari 458 or Mercedes SLS. So score a point for the Vantage — especially because the gearbox is rowing an old-school but hugely satisfying V-12.
While one might assume that Aston’s traditional GTs were long powered by V-12s, it was actually the 1999 DB7 that received the first one. That 5.9-liter engine, developed with Ford and Cosworth when Aston was part of the Ford empire, has gained 90 horsepower over the years.
Stuffed into this short-wheelbase sports car like a fat kielbasa in an undersize bun, the V-12 gives the Vantage a wonderfully boisterous, tail-happy attitude; it’s something of a Cobra for billionaires. Every push of the throttle summons an upper-crust rasp and roar, and owners can decide how much of the $60,000 premium is for the sound alone. Pushing a Sport button opens an exhaust bypass to announce the Aston’s superiority even at low revs, while sharpening the throttle response.
That engine sheds heat through a remade aluminum hood whose striking carbon-fiber louvers look like the world’s most expensive Venetian blinds. A carbon-fiber air splitter in the front and a saucier spoiler at the rear are among body changes that improve both aerodynamics and visual appeal. But despite weight-saving body panels and a bonded aluminum chassis, the Vantage — at just over 3,700 pounds — is no lightweight.
The hand-built cabin shows Aston’s signature mix of overwhelming luxury and underwhelming quirks. My Vantage test car, with an interior of Chancellor red leather and Alcantara, was decadent enough for Henry VIII. But I’d like to behead the person responsible for the knotty navigation system and plasticky power seat adjusters.
The seats themselves are spectacular, firm yet cosseting on a six-hour round-trip to Lime Rock Park in Connecticut. Gorgeous driver’s gauges, including Aston’s familiar tachometer that travels counterclockwise, look like Patek Philippe timepieces in a world of street-corner knockoffs.
But the biggest surprise is the Vantage’s athleticism. At the Lime Rock circuit — whose recent resurfacing has transformed it from notoriously rocky to baby-bottom smooth — I was paired with a club member, Robert Newman, and his 911 GT3, a 435-horsepower, track-tuned version of the venerable Porsche. I was content to trail the GT3 around the course. But with Newman setting an able pace, the Aston had no difficulty keeping up.
Compared with the V-8 version, the V-12’s brilliant carbon-ceramic brakes, lower body, stiffer springs and higher-rate antiroll bars create an Aston that can attack any curve with no excuses.
Still, partly because of its nose-heavy V-12, the car feels less spellbinding than the current supercar wizards like the Ferrari 458 Italia. And a slew of sports cars, including garden-variety ’Vettes, can beat the Aston’s 4.2-second sprint from 0 to 60 miles per hour and its 190 m.p.h. top speed.
But I’ve yet to hear an Aston owner use the phrase “bang for the buck.” Viewing the Champagne glass half-full, this Vantage still costs roughly $75,000 less than a DBS with the same lusty engine. That DBS is arguably more stunning, but also larger — to little practical benefit.
That leaves the V-12 Vantage as the most purebred sports car ever from this renowned builder of British GTs — at least until a select group of 77 wealthy buyers takes possession of the new 700-horsepower One-77 supercar. Priced at $1.9 million, the One-77 may achieve an unprecedented feat: to make other Aston Martins seem like bargains.
Credit: The New York Times
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