The time comes when a man must put away childish things like Ferraris and Aston Martins and look at, well, big Bentleys. Justin Hynes felt it was time he checked out the €250,000 Flying Spur
THERE comes a time in a man's life when he thinks of settling down. Taking it a little easier. Accepting that the days of his wild youth are over and that perhaps a little sports car is no longer in keeping with his greying at the temples, heading-for-middle age sobriety.
Yes, there comes a time in man's life when he puts away childish things like Ferraris and Astons and looks at something more sedate. He looks at big Bentleys. Looks at dropping €250,000 on a big old canal barge.
Thankfully, it's not my life. Two hundred and fifty grand on a car? Are you mental? I could have a two, umm, a one, uhhh a studio apartment for that. A quarter of a mill for a big saloon? What am I? A rap star? Am I auditioning for a spot on MTV cribs where the car de jour always seems to be a Bentley Arnage, though ever so subtly tricked out with some 20" chrome rims and a DVD screen in every panel. Not likely.
Funny how Bentleys alternate. between those two extremes - the vehicle of choice of sober-suited captains of industry or something so blinged it has all the class of taking your date to a lap dancing club.
There's no in-between. You're either P Diddy or Fuddy Duddy.
So, it's with some trepidation that you approach a big Bentley. Are you pimpin' (on Rodeo) or limpin' (due to incipient gout) up the stairs of your Mayfair club? Tricky one.
If you're driving the Continental GT you'll get away with either. It's the sort of car that, if it had been around 60 years ago, would have been driven by dashing fighter pilots in flying jackets, the sort who'd scream to a halt on the runway and leap from car to cockpit, pursued by a black Labrador with a politically incorrect name.
This Flying Spur version of the same car is a different story. It's a curate's egg of a car. It's essentially the GT in sheep's clothing. And that sheep's clothing is probably a Barbour jacket and green wellies.
Gone is the raked rear end, the squat pitbull presence of the GT, a shape that threatens comfort but also a little chaos. The Flying Spur is a big old saloon. For four people. Sensible.
Indeed, on the outside it's kind of bland. Sure, it has that cool Bentley matrix grille and the big fat winged B logo that tells anyone within a four-mile radius that they're not dealing with some Merc here.
Aside from that though, it's pretty dull. Looks like a big Volvo to me. I am getting on, spiralling towards the dog days of my thirties but I'm not senile enough yet to be convinced by this non-descript exterior. So far, I'm keeping my €250,000 in my pocket.
But this is the design imperative. Sturdy, reliable, pillar of the community stuff. And it's reflected on the inside. It's like a gentleman's club on steroids. Acres of walnut, vast swathes of leather. A lot of silverware.
But my, it's comfy. It has those Bentley seats, the ones like armchairs, the sort that make you want to be drinking Louis XIII from a crystal brandy balloon while nipping back from dinner at Louis XV to your yacht's mooring in Monaco.
But, while it does have that clubby old feel, it's a club for the Thunderbirds, with enough gadgets to make Joe 90 jealous. There are three 6-speed gearbox configurations to choose from - regular auto, titptronic and silly paddle shift. There's a centre console that wouldn't look out of place on an Airbus A380, featuring sat nav and stuff that lets you control the suspension settings and ride height - a TV and all the usual toys you expect to find on a car of this nature.
It also comes with a phone thing which allows you to plug your mobile into the car. All your phone's menus will come up on the screen on the centre console and on the small screen in the binnacle and you can select and dial a number from the steering wheel.
Pretty sweet. Except it doesn't work. "Oh, cool, lemme see," I said and jammed my humble Nokia 6230 into the socket in the centre console, producing a look of horror on the face of the nice woman showing me round the car.
This'll be good I thought. But nothing. The car was confused.
"Ha ha," stuttered the nice woman. "Umm, it only works with about five phones and most of those aren't made anymore. Uhh, they're going to do the whole thing Bluetooth from now on."
Great, a design flaw. Bentley gadget cock-up exposed by crusading journalist. Except I'd already given up on that, having been utterly seduced by the 552bhp on offer from the lovely 12-cylinder, 6-litre engine crammed under the bonnet.
This is what you pays your money for: 0-100km/h in 4.9 seconds, in a car weighing 6,482lbs. It's alarming performance in a car so big. Huge dollops of power are at your disposal. You can plough on up to 190mph plus and it will beg for more.
And here's the nub of the issue. You might look like a moneyed, paid-up pillar of the establishment in the Flying Spur but you can still get wild like the baddest hip-hop hooligan. Chances are that even if you're in the back, being ferried around at licence-losing speed, you 're mostly likely not analysing stock market indexes on your laptop but playing Grand Theft Auto on the X-box you'll surely install.
Best of both worlds? Well, I'd rather have the GT but if you need to affect gentlemanly conduct while having the option of acting like a tearaway then this might be for you. Just so long as you've got a bank account with the requisite bling.