It’s both natural and nonsensical for us to ask (and continually be asked): what’s the best car in the world? That epithet rather famously belongs to Rolls-Royce, of course. It perhaps should have been a fleeting one, because it’s generally attributed to a journalist and phrases from journalists are just as famously fleeting. But this one has stuck.
Wondering whether a car is the best in the world is the same as wondering whether a DVD player or a pair of sneakers is the best in the world: impossible to quantify because ‘best’ is a fluid and therefore elusive concept. It depends entirely on individual preferences.
But it’s still a wonderfully satisfying absolute that we keep asking ourselves. In the automotive context, perhaps bestness (that’s a word I just invented) is a product of fitness-for-purpose. Good luck in working your way through that one.
But bestness rather implies singularity, and that doesn’t really work in the modern car world. Once upon a time Rolls-Royce had a single model. I’ve just been driving the new Dawn convertible, and it’s one of five distinct