What more can you say about a car that comes with built-in umbrella?
Offered the opportunity to drive a Rolls- Royce Wraith f or t he weekend, I did what every other slightly insecure, couldn’t- afford-one- i f- my- house- appreciated- 1,000- per- cent auto journalist would do. I drove the Wraith pretty much anywhere that I might lord my importance — nay, superiority — over pretty much everyone I knew.
OK, what I really wanted was to allow all my friends the ultimate experience in automotive luxury. I swear that my heart was, let’s say, about 90 per cent in the right place.
However, i t morphed into a learning experience for me; an abject lesson in what others, less fortunate than I, consider hedonistic in an automobile. So while I, a technocrat at heart, might marvel at Roll- Royce’s decision to add a second bulkhead to the engine compartment to minimize the noise, vibration and harshness from an engine already renowned for its smoothness ( BMW’s twin- turbocharged V12) as the height of indulgence, no one else said a damned thing about how quiet the Wraith was. Presumably, it was expected.
Nor did anyone give a rat’s you- know- what that the eight- speed automatic transmission is now guided by satellite navigation that it might downshift before you get to the next corner. Indeed, other than a few of the most obvious debauches — leather that induces a sudden desire for naked frottage, a ride that makes pillows seem harsh, etc. — few of the things my victims … err, friends, pointed out would have ranked on my top 10 of Rolls- Royce attributes.
I f ound t he supposed speed of the Wraith, despite it being twice-turbocharged, a little disappointing. After all, it does weigh almost as much as a small tank, which will blunt any charge and it is, befitting Rolls-Royce’s desire for a calm cabin, a little slow off the line. But try telling that to Monique, a student in my Saturday morning fitness class and one of Atlas Boxing’s prime female pugilists. She was all agog every time I put my foot into it, waxing lyrical about velocity and t el ephone poles and marvelling at the Wraith’s “incredible” speed. That big V12 was what impressed her most.
I really should give the Wraith its due. Despite my ambivalence, the ability of a 2,440 kilogram behemoth to hit 100 km/ h from rest in just over four seconds is pretty incredible stuff. Especially since it is accompanied by not the slightest whiff of untoward drama; that aforementioned double bulkhead obviously works. After all, that big 6.6- litre V12 pumps out 624 horsepower, making it the most powerful engine ever tucked into a RollsRoyce engine bay.
Other than the reserve power gauge ( Rolls refuses to use a tachometer, preferring to offer you an accounting of how much power you have in reserve, rather than how much you’re producing) flatlining at zero and lesser cars disappearing into your rear view, there’s little to indicate that you’re luxuriating at a heady rate of knots.
Meanwhile, Gina, owner of the boxing club, just loved the Starlight Headliner option. Essentially, Rolls-Royce takes about 1,000 pinpoint- small LEDs, caches them underneath the perforated leather roof liner and creates a stargazing illusion inside the cabin for those who wish they had a convertible. It’s incredibly effective; at night, it’s like driving around in your own personal Hubble Observatory, only you never have to worry about a cloudy evening. Trés cool.
In fact, even though Gina was especially wowed by this feature, she pretty much was thoroughly impressed by how spoil ed the truly rich are — especially upon learning the option cost a cool $17,000.
Meanwhile, PG — a Philippine professional in the style of Manny Pacquiao — who works in a Hyundai dealership, marvelled at the leather and wood. Never mind t hat Hyundai has done a wonderful job creating its luxury Genesis lineup, which easily competes with the Mercedes and BMWs of the world.
But they still don’t have anything to compete with leather that Rolls-Royce claims comes only f rom Bavarian bulls raised in the mountains far away from blemish- inducing mosquitos. Come to think of it, no- body else does either. Nor do other automakers hand braze t he exterior body panels and coat said steel in multiple coats of handsanded and polished paint. No, you don’t take a Roller to Bob’s Body Repair and Bait Shoppe after a fenderbender.
Meanwhile, away from Toronto’s home of pugilism, my dad was most impressed t hat Rolls still supplies sterling- handled umbrellas with each car. In the Wraith, they’re built into the front fender frames on both sides, running parallel in the bodywork to the front fender. That’s because the doors are of the “suicide” variety.
In other words, open the door and out pokes the head of an easily removed umbrella to make sure that not one drop of rain touches your pampered head as you exit.
It was the first thing dad asked about, mainly because I got him one — complete with the Rolls- Royce logo emblazoned on its handle — for Christmas one year.
Of course, said suicide doors impressed one and all, even more so because they’ re power operated. Theresa, my neighbour two doors down, was adamant that she needed a ride in the big Roller. But when she got in, her shortness of stature prevented her from manually closing the door; because they pivot from the rear, the handle is, like, a mile away. So, she was completely taken with the fact that Rolls- Royce has thought of everything by providing a button beside the A- pillar that electrically closes the door for you.
Indeed, there’ s just so much about a Roller to marvel at. I’ve just touched on the very tip of the iceberg, not yet mentioning details such as real aluminum switchgear, a clock t hat looks like it costs at least $ 10,000 and, well, you get the idea.
As to why I haven’ t touched on typical roadtest qualities, like how the Wraith handles and brakes or, indeed, whether it’s even a good car — it really is — not one of my friends gave a damn. It’s probably the only attribute they share with the people who can actually afford a Rolls-Royce.