By Michael Booth
Model:
Aston Martin V8 Vantage Roadster.
Price:
£91 000 (about R1.31-million - SA price R1.695-million).
Performance:
280km/h, 0-100km/h in 4.9sec.
Combined fuel consumption:
15.8 litres/100km.
People don't half talk a right bunch of apple sauce about cars sometimes. You know the kind of thing: Ferraris have a "soul"; a Lamborghini is a "wild thing"; an Alfa Romeo "lives and breathes". And that's just the stuff I've got away with.
No: cars are man-made machines that go and stop or, in the case of Land Rovers, stop.
Any character they may have is entirely the result of their designer's ability to provoke an instinctive response in humans - through a cheeky face or sexy hips or whatever - or a consequence of the engineer's desire for more speed or efficiency, or a combination of both.
How, then, am I to explain why I would rather own an Aston Martin V8 Vantage Roadster than a Porsche 911 if I am not to dip a guilty quill into the apple sauce boat myself?
Viewed objectively, the Porsche does virtually everything better than the Aston. It is faster, more agile, more responsive, has better brakes, is more practical and user-friendly, cheaper to buy, own and run, will probably be more reliable and it has a proper handbrake.
So why was I left languishing with such a nihilistic emptiness in the very pit of my being - such an overwhelming tide of loss, misery, futility and frustration that not even pictures of Tony Blair's man-boobs from his holiday in the Caribbean could lift me - when the man from Aston Martin came to take the Vantage away? I have never felt that way about a Porsche, ever.
Could it be that the Aston has a "soul", a "personality", or is it just the sexy hips and the "wild thing" exhaust that turned my head so, on a two-day trip along the Normandy coast?
You may laugh and, if we'd met at a party, have backed away nervously to try to find someone else to talk to, but I genuinely felt we bonded, the Vantage and I. And it wasn't just me: everyone I passed was engulfed by the Aston's aura. I haven't been the recipient of so many longing looks since I went to a fancy dress party as Lady Godiva.
At times the Vantage infuriated me: the clutch was heavy; so was the gear change, and it had none of the lunging urgency of a Ferrari or Porsche. Instead, it took a surprising amount of time to gather momentum.
You can insert the GPS CD only with the roof half down - a procedure guaranteed to make you look an utter idiot - and, once installed, the system sets about its business of sending you entirely the wrong way, all the time, with impressive dedication.
Feral sound track
Then I couldn't find the petrol flap release, which rather gave the game away when it came time to fill up. And I have no doubt that, for all its feral sound track and ballsy posturing, virtually every rival would give the Aston a good whipping on a track.
But testing a road car on a track is like testing an espresso machine in space - amusing to watch but not terribly relevant.
The purpose of an Aston is to make you feel great, not to win races, and, with its gorgeous interior, intoxicating exterior and ballsy, barking engine, the Vantage does that - more than any Aston Martin, perhaps even more than any car I have driven.
Wild thing, I... I think I love you. - The Independent, London