BUILT TO BE BRILLIANT
Ambitious DB11 is the most important car in Aston Martin’s long history
Six-hundred horsepower is a staggering sum. Hard to engineer, hard to generate, nearly impossible for mortals to control. But for Aston Martin, which has stared hard in the face of challenges before and struggled more than once in its 103-year existence, its 2017 DB11 may well be proof of the axiom, “strength through adversity.”
Replacing the desirable DB9 that first appeared in 2003, the new DB11 is unquestionably an ambitious car. Chief executive Andy Palmer admits it is not only the most important in the British marque’s history, but the foundation for future Aston Martin sports cars. In other words, the new DB11 could never be merely great; it had to be brilliant.
To describe the DB11 as brilliant, it’s fair to say, is an understatement. In league with such design icons as the Lamborghini Miura or Mercedes-Benz 300SL, the DB11 came to life at the hands of Marek Reichman, Aston’s chief creative officer and design director, and his small team. Everything was designed with function and beauty in mind, using “design principles to create a more efficient product.” There are even usable back seats, complete with child-seat anchors.
Few people other than Reichman will ever call the DB11 a product. The DB11 might be the newest car to come from Gaydon, England — where the cars will be hand-assembled, each requiring some 250 man hours to complete — but it clearly embodies beauty and epitomizes grace.
Driving a DB11 is another experience altogether. Top speed is now an astonishing 322 km/h, the first 100 attainable from rest in 3.9 seconds — the fastest DB car ever. Through first, second and third, the specially made Bridgestone rear tires struggle for traction. At 150 km/h, all 516 pound-feet of torque from the inhouse designed, 5.2-litre, twinturbocharged V12 has barely cleared its bewitching throat. At 200 km/h, the rear begins to feel less planted, but the ferociousness underhood beckons for more, somehow whispering a promise that life is safe in its hands. Foolishly, I press on.
Even at this speed, power shuttles out to the rear wheels so fiercely, so smoothly and in such a satisfying way, it’s hard to tell two twin-scroll turbochargers, using water-to-air inlet charge coolers, are at play — the first turbocharged Aston Martin.
Lag is not in this V12’s repertoire. The exhaust is electrifying, all natural and half-deafening in the tunnels. Engine sound is natural, too — not piped in, although noise cancellation is used to filter out undesirable cabin notes for purer sound.
At 225 km/h, I have not yet touched the pinnacle of the V12’s power. The gently-weighted Bosch electric steering feels sure and precise, and wind noise is well tamed. The new aluminum body shell, 15 per cent stiffer than the DB9’s, and a new aluminum suspension might feel less rigid than a Porsche 911 Turbo S or McLaren 650S, but there’s more usability with this car and heaps more character. It’s also way better looking.
Topping 250 km/h, the last point at which I dare look down to see how fast we are going, the DB11 is approaching its own Hillary Step; the summit is close, but still some way to go. But no longer having the confidence to take my eyes off the road and down at the full-colour, 12-inch TFT LCD display that has smartly replaced analogue gauges to indicate speed and the car’s 7,000 rpm redline, I back off. And breathe.
Slowing to a more reasonable 150 km/h, I switch out of Sport Plus — the most extreme (and most fun) driving mode — down through Sport and into GT mode to relax the throttle, shifts points and ride. The car quiets considerably, the suspension softens and calm is restored. Now fully addicted, I desperately want to do it again.
Cruising along gently, the engine closes one bank of cylinders and becomes a 2.6-L straight six. To prevent the catalytic converters from cooling, the left and right banks are constantly switched up, though it’s undetectable. The rear, mid-mounted eight-speed ZF transmission, connected to the engine via a carbonfibre prop shaft, flips effortlessly from manual mode to automatic by holding the right paddle shifter for a few seconds. In GT mode, as in the other two modes, upshifts and downshifts occur precisely when desired, remarkably so in Sport Plus.
The hood, a single sheet of aluminum, opens forward like a clamshell and cinches softly closed via a power latch to create an absence of shut lines around the front. Two vents draw air in, while two others dispel it.
This “functional design” is seen again in the car’s aerodynamics. Built into the front wheel arches and looking like gills are what Aston calls “curlicues,” which extract high-pressure air from the wheel arch, making it collide with hot air exiting the hood vents, the two winds waltzing at a “sidestrake” for reduced frontend lift. It’s seen again in the way air is channelled along the flanks of the DB11 into discreet vents at the C-pillar and down through the rear bodywork, escaping forcefully through a narrow strip on the back deck, similar to the way F1 cars (and the Vulcan) manage air flow to generate rearend downforce.
It is all about building something special, Reichman says, and making the DB11 as unique as it is beautiful. The DB11, which starts at $254,195 in Canada and goes on sale late this year, may have taken 13 years to arrive after the debut of the DB9, but for connoisseurs who love cars, it will be irresistible. For Aston Martin, the DB11 will be a hard act to follow.