Aston Martin Vanquish
Struggling to find its flaws
WHY WE’RE RUNNING IT For one last glorious hurrah to Aston Martin’s era of Vh-based cars with big, naturally aspirated V12s
It would be easy to sit here and spew out another 600 words covering all the great things there are about an Aston Martin Vanquish S. Lord knows, I’ve already done that. So let’s try something harder. What, exactly, is wrong with this car?
Not ‘broken’ wrong, you understand, because there’s none of that. We’re about to accrue the kind of mileage, in less than three months, that an owner will likely take a year or two to amass, but there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with the Vanquish S in that sense. I sometimes notice a squeak from, I assume, a rear wheel bearing; but then it goes away. Ditto a little squeak from one of the door mirrors as it folds in after I’ve locked the car. Other than those trifles, nothing has gone wrong, broken, or fallen off.
Nor should it have, you might argue: this is a £200,000 motor. But it’s also one largely hand-built in small volumes. Niggles would be less surprising in an Aston than, say, a Toyota. But there is nothing. Its 5.9-litre, naturally aspirated V12 engine hasn’t even used so much as a drop of oil.
No, when I say ‘wrong’, I mean: what are its faults? Because no matter how exciting a car is, every vehicle must have them, right? Right. So.
Door handles? These are a bit of a nuisance. You have to push the front of them to get the back of them to emerge, which is hardly a paragon of ergonomic refinement. But, then, it means they sit flush with the body. And they have little lights in them for seeing them at night. So, forgiven.
Inside? There’s that steering wheel. Gulp, there’s that square steering wheel. My 14-year-old actually laughed when he first saw it. But you can have a round one and save £995, so I would. In fact, you could probably persuade Aston into covering a round one with Alcantara. I’d do that. That said, the airbag section does look a bit big by today’s standards, and those buttons and switches are right out of somebody’s parts bin from a decade and a half ago. But nestling behind them is a rocker switch that skips tracks forward or backwards on the entertainment, which, if you’ve got music playing but the satnav screen showing, is very handy.
Ah, yes, the nav screen, and accompanying infotainment. It’s one of motordom’s more archaic systems. Its routing can be questionable and so can its estimated arrival times. But, as with all systems, you get used to its foibles. And, to be fair, Aston knows it has them, which is why the DB11 has a Mercedes-sourced system. A thoroughly modern Aston gets a Mercedes column stalk, too, but this one has Ford ‘Premier Automotive Group’ hangovers. I’m not sure they’ve been impressive at any time, really. You touch them all the time. Back in the day, even TVR did its own stalks.
The analogue speedo is useless, and the digital speedo has a resolution of a Casio watch. Otherwise, switchgear is very good – the glassy buttons on the dashboard, I mean. The key is still as daft as it ever was – if you don’t start the car with it the moment you insert it, you have to take it out and reinsert it – but at least it has a slot to live in, I suppose. There’s something to be said for that.
And I reckon that’s about it. Dynamically, it’s terrific. The powertrain is wonderful. It’s comfortable, rewarding, engaging, electrifying, beautiful, noisy, likeable, and usable. And the foibles, in that context, matter to what extent? Absolutely none whatsoever.