The Week in a T...
Discussion
Had these cars been available in 1854, Britain would surely have unleashed them upon the Russians at Sevastopol.
Nick Hall, in his current piece on the uprated Cayenne Turbo, describes the uber SUV as "the pure epitome of first class, long distance transport."
Er, no mate - this is.
Sitting high, with about 2500 dialled in, volcanic vunderlunge is only an anvil feather away: one twitch, one cog down and the Cossack guns fall silent - a second laze of the heel, twin cogulation and getting on for twice the engine speed, you will observe Mother Russia herself submit where Napolean and Hitler both died on the muddy steppe.
It's not so much crushing torque as Queen Victoria, on tour, in a Zeppelin, sipping sherry whilst taking in The Empire.
Labour simply moves aside.
Petrol is a never ending freebie and the NSL something that happens to other people. In Katmandu.
One of those faux VW jobs was keeping pace at one point and it might have been more powerful but it understood the way of things, making way and then providing tugboat support.
A maritime analogy of no little significance or indeed comparison with the aforementioned Porquine SUV issue of retardation: for just as any ocean going liner requires several miles before it heaves to a controllable docking knot count, so too does this road bourne leviathan require it's shell shocked captain to make supreme judgements when it comes to slip road peel offs or other such affronts to the basic job of voracious quoffage (like braking), existing stubbornly, somewhere in the vicinity of 5mpg.
Whilst the anchors themselves are hugely impressive with great resistance to actual fade and no susceptibility to the dread of judder, whereas almost any other car will obey the will of the helmsman, here, as in a Phantom, the beast itself develops a momentum which involves little or no interest in doing a great deal besides charging ever more forward and preferably, faster.
And all the while, there is this rousing throb of Supermarine Elgar from somewhere beneath the deck: a quite unique, haunting warble which rises and falls as the mighty tide.
The very fact of Livingston's rejection of this way, this manifestation of glory, is the defining essence of what is wrong with the nation, the automtotive battle line, resolutely carved in 3 tons of rolling majesty.
Oh, The Rapture...
Nick Hall, in his current piece on the uprated Cayenne Turbo, describes the uber SUV as "the pure epitome of first class, long distance transport."
Er, no mate - this is.
Sitting high, with about 2500 dialled in, volcanic vunderlunge is only an anvil feather away: one twitch, one cog down and the Cossack guns fall silent - a second laze of the heel, twin cogulation and getting on for twice the engine speed, you will observe Mother Russia herself submit where Napolean and Hitler both died on the muddy steppe.
It's not so much crushing torque as Queen Victoria, on tour, in a Zeppelin, sipping sherry whilst taking in The Empire.
Labour simply moves aside.
Petrol is a never ending freebie and the NSL something that happens to other people. In Katmandu.
One of those faux VW jobs was keeping pace at one point and it might have been more powerful but it understood the way of things, making way and then providing tugboat support.
A maritime analogy of no little significance or indeed comparison with the aforementioned Porquine SUV issue of retardation: for just as any ocean going liner requires several miles before it heaves to a controllable docking knot count, so too does this road bourne leviathan require it's shell shocked captain to make supreme judgements when it comes to slip road peel offs or other such affronts to the basic job of voracious quoffage (like braking), existing stubbornly, somewhere in the vicinity of 5mpg.
Whilst the anchors themselves are hugely impressive with great resistance to actual fade and no susceptibility to the dread of judder, whereas almost any other car will obey the will of the helmsman, here, as in a Phantom, the beast itself develops a momentum which involves little or no interest in doing a great deal besides charging ever more forward and preferably, faster.
And all the while, there is this rousing throb of Supermarine Elgar from somewhere beneath the deck: a quite unique, haunting warble which rises and falls as the mighty tide.
The very fact of Livingston's rejection of this way, this manifestation of glory, is the defining essence of what is wrong with the nation, the automtotive battle line, resolutely carved in 3 tons of rolling majesty.
Oh, The Rapture...
Sounds a superb car that has the additional quality of pi$$ing off those that frankly need to be errrr pi$$ed off!
Isn't it about time you extended your garage? You haven't bought a car this month and we're already 19 days in. Which is it going to be? The T or the Phantom?
Isn't it about time you extended your garage? You haven't bought a car this month and we're already 19 days in. Which is it going to be? The T or the Phantom?
Edited by dazren on Monday 19th February 16:35
jhoneyball said:
The Boys are being Very Bad and tempting me with the 420bhp/650lbft ECU (up from 400/590)
Yes, they're like that arent they
I intend to get the transient boost upgrade next service. But that will pale into insignificance if I get the nitrous fitted
Cheap & dangerous, a bit like me really
having said that, I was v impressed with the bill (in so far as one can be impressed with a bentley service bill....)
1500 all in, of which 500 was fixing the smashed rear 3/4 glass, held over from before xmas (they forgot to invoice me). So around 700 + vat for a medium sized service? I was pleased...
1500 all in, of which 500 was fixing the smashed rear 3/4 glass, held over from before xmas (they forgot to invoice me). So around 700 + vat for a medium sized service? I was pleased...
does the bently turbo or the R give out the power as one lump or is it smooth throughout the rev range? always thought it was out of charector if it gave it out as one power lump at say 3500 revs. always wanted to tae one out for a boot. does it handle well round bends at speed also? is the weicht well hidden or does it lurch and roll ?
Stand on a Cornish penninsula and walk into the sea during a choppy swell, ideally suited in the garb of an armoured, Elizabethan dragoon.
As you are swept hopelesly away, clattering and flailing, you will be unfeasibly close to the experience of plunge charging the 6.75 in anger.
Fashion is for the masses, style for the few.*
{* Chuck Norris, from 'Contemplations of The Inner Rectum,' 1984.}
As you are swept hopelesly away, clattering and flailing, you will be unfeasibly close to the experience of plunge charging the 6.75 in anger.
Fashion is for the masses, style for the few.*
{* Chuck Norris, from 'Contemplations of The Inner Rectum,' 1984.}
tbops said:
does the bently turbo or the R give out the power as one lump or is it smooth throughout the rev range? always thought it was out of charector if it gave it out as one power lump at say 3500 revs. always wanted to tae one out for a boot. does it handle well round bends at speed also? is the weicht well hidden or does it lurch and roll ?
To answer in order:
lumpy power -- remember that the engine has a restricted rev range -- redline at 4500, runs to 5000 when provoked.
Huge torque from low down -- peak torque at 2200rpm, I think. As smooth as double whipped cream.
Handling -- depends on the setup. Rolls badged cars are more wallowy. The R is much better. The RT is better still. The RT with the hoooooge bright yellow Mulliner handling kit is even better still. This is no Caterham 7, and it reminds of it. And it is happier on bigger roads -- but it is 2.5 tonnes and 19 feet long! There is a technique to driving smoothly and fast. I found i was much faster after the 3-day Defensive Driving Course at Bentley, and smoother too. Grab and snatch the steering, brakes or throttle, and the car will let you know you are being uncouth. Be smooth and purposeful ,and the car is stuuuupidly quick.
derestrictor said:
Had these cars been available in 1854, Britain would surely have unleashed them upon the Russians at Sevastopol.
Nick Hall, in his current piece on the uprated Cayenne Turbo, describes the uber SUV as "the pure epitome of first class, long distance transport."
Er, no mate - this is.
Sitting high, with about 2500 dialled in, volcanic vunderlunge is only an anvil feather away: one twitch, one cog down and the Cossack guns fall silent - a second laze of the heel, twin cogulation and getting on for twice the engine speed, you will observe Mother Russia herself submit where Napolean and Hitler both died on the muddy steppe.
It's not so much crushing torque as Queen Victoria, on tour, in a Zeppelin, sipping sherry whilst taking in The Empire.
Labour simply moves aside.
Petrol is a never ending freebie and the NSL something that happens to other people. In Katmandu.
One of those faux VW jobs was keeping pace at one point and it might have been more powerful but it understood the way of things, making way and then providing tugboat support.
A maritime analogy of no little significance or indeed comparison with the aforementioned Porquine SUV issue of retardation: for just as any ocean going liner requires several miles before it heaves to a controllable docking knot count, so too does this road bourne leviathan require it's shell shocked captain to make supreme judgements when it comes to slip road peel offs or other such affronts to the basic job of voracious quoffage (like braking), existing stubbornly, somewhere in the vicinity of 5mpg.
Whilst the anchors themselves are hugely impressive with great resistance to actual fade and no susceptibility to the dread of judder, whereas almost any other car will obey the will of the helmsman, here, as in a Phantom, the beast itself develops a momentum which involves little or no interest in doing a great deal besides charging ever more forward and preferably, faster.
And all the while, there is this rousing throb of Supermarine Elgar from somewhere beneath the deck: a quite unique, haunting warble which rises and falls as the mighty tide.
The very fact of Livingston's rejection of this way, this manifestation of glory, is the defining essence of what is wrong with the nation, the automtotive battle line, resolutely carved in 3 tons of rolling majesty.
Oh, The Rapture...
Nick Hall, in his current piece on the uprated Cayenne Turbo, describes the uber SUV as "the pure epitome of first class, long distance transport."
Er, no mate - this is.
Sitting high, with about 2500 dialled in, volcanic vunderlunge is only an anvil feather away: one twitch, one cog down and the Cossack guns fall silent - a second laze of the heel, twin cogulation and getting on for twice the engine speed, you will observe Mother Russia herself submit where Napolean and Hitler both died on the muddy steppe.
It's not so much crushing torque as Queen Victoria, on tour, in a Zeppelin, sipping sherry whilst taking in The Empire.
Labour simply moves aside.
Petrol is a never ending freebie and the NSL something that happens to other people. In Katmandu.
One of those faux VW jobs was keeping pace at one point and it might have been more powerful but it understood the way of things, making way and then providing tugboat support.
A maritime analogy of no little significance or indeed comparison with the aforementioned Porquine SUV issue of retardation: for just as any ocean going liner requires several miles before it heaves to a controllable docking knot count, so too does this road bourne leviathan require it's shell shocked captain to make supreme judgements when it comes to slip road peel offs or other such affronts to the basic job of voracious quoffage (like braking), existing stubbornly, somewhere in the vicinity of 5mpg.
Whilst the anchors themselves are hugely impressive with great resistance to actual fade and no susceptibility to the dread of judder, whereas almost any other car will obey the will of the helmsman, here, as in a Phantom, the beast itself develops a momentum which involves little or no interest in doing a great deal besides charging ever more forward and preferably, faster.
And all the while, there is this rousing throb of Supermarine Elgar from somewhere beneath the deck: a quite unique, haunting warble which rises and falls as the mighty tide.
The very fact of Livingston's rejection of this way, this manifestation of glory, is the defining essence of what is wrong with the nation, the automtotive battle line, resolutely carved in 3 tons of rolling majesty.
Oh, The Rapture...
Der,
I'm so glad you're back as where else in gods green earth can one read a car review with such style and panache.
You've got me looking on sale websites for bentleys now
, that's something i never thought i'd doFellow appreciators of the 6.75 block may be moved to learn that in the latter stages of yesterday, I found myself with the opportunity to let loose the Kraken, as it were, along the Bottrop Pass, Vaterland.
At around 145 there appears to be a sounding of reveille as the Agitant General to the second blower storms into the barracks and demands immediate muster:
Get a move on, you lazy swine and be quicker about it than you were answering the door!
The third wave (as opposed to Bliar's way, the dog) suddenly dragsterises proceedings even more and the pointer slowly but surely edges like a volley of Whitworth 9lber canonnette into a line of gallic bombadieres: 150, of course, 160, we're on, 165, lumme and as the guage is breached, you find yourself on the acceptable side of 170.
And the solidity! My God, the plantedness is something wholly unexpected for a beast so figidty at camp velocities, that weight combined with finely honed damping seem to yield a confidence inspiring track which allows cruise to be engaged at 150 for minutes at a time, the perfectly weighted steering just encouraging greater and greater conquest.
If only we suffered less from so profound a communism on UK roads.
Nevertheless - undiluted bliss.
At around 145 there appears to be a sounding of reveille as the Agitant General to the second blower storms into the barracks and demands immediate muster:
Get a move on, you lazy swine and be quicker about it than you were answering the door! The third wave (as opposed to Bliar's way, the dog) suddenly dragsterises proceedings even more and the pointer slowly but surely edges like a volley of Whitworth 9lber canonnette into a line of gallic bombadieres: 150, of course, 160, we're on, 165, lumme and as the guage is breached, you find yourself on the acceptable side of 170.
And the solidity! My God, the plantedness is something wholly unexpected for a beast so figidty at camp velocities, that weight combined with finely honed damping seem to yield a confidence inspiring track which allows cruise to be engaged at 150 for minutes at a time, the perfectly weighted steering just encouraging greater and greater conquest.
If only we suffered less from so profound a communism on UK roads.
Nevertheless - undiluted bliss.
Sorry mate, but, how can I put it, it's soooooooo last year.
The new X5 (which I just ordered) will apply opposite lock for you. Yes, that's right, it really will do all that carlos fandango heroics whilst you pick your nose / shout at yet another granny that had the audacity to be on the same bit of road.
All I need to work out is if the head up display allows me to set, arm and fire the missiles ala Star Wars style, or if the force still needs to be tamed.
J
The new X5 (which I just ordered) will apply opposite lock for you. Yes, that's right, it really will do all that carlos fandango heroics whilst you pick your nose / shout at yet another granny that had the audacity to be on the same bit of road.
All I need to work out is if the head up display allows me to set, arm and fire the missiles ala Star Wars style, or if the force still needs to be tamed.
J
gmaclean said:
derestrictor said:
Now the RT, that, that is the one...
How about my Conti T? 650lb/ft of torque...
I'm looking for a career in low lying sycophancy, perhaps I might till your lower fields?
The Continental T?
Very nice, very nice indeed.
All this talk of torque inclines me in the direction of my learned colleague's automotive hibernation chamber wherein something blue of similar Black Labelling but of the genus Arnagian lurks.
I feel the overwhelming desire to splurt octane juice at a rate comensurate with the retaking of the asian subcontinent.
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