Evo

ICON: ASTON MARTIN VANTAGE V550

The supercharg­ed Vantage of the 1990s was the ultimate expression of the old-school V8-engined Aston – and it still has the power to inspire awe today

- by RICHARD MEADEN PHOTOGRAPH­Y by ANDY MORGAN

With a 550bhp supercharg­ed V8, this characterf­ul, hand-built ’90s Aston still packs a mighty punch today, as Richard Meaden discovers

FORGET BOND AND HIS GADGET-LADEN Silver Birch DB5. When it comes to ultimate Astons, my heart has always belonged to the big, ballsy GT flagships. From the 1970s Vantage to today’s epic, twin-turbocharg­ed DBS Superlegge­ra, there’s something about these bruising machines that speaks so eloquently of the marque. To me, they will always be the quintessen­tial Aston Martin. Of all these rollicking flagships, it’s the Virage-based V550 Vantage that makes the most emphatic statement. At least to me. This could have something to do with it being introduced at a time when I was just experience­d enough for Aston’s PR boss, Harry Calton, to entrust me with its humble, Ford-sourced ignition key. As a kid who’d grown up with a fascinatio­n for all cars, but especially Astons, getting near one of these hand-built, two-tonne monsters was a source of awe and wonder. Fast-forward to 2021 and that feeling has not gone away. With good reason, for the V550 remains an extraordin­ary machine. Dressed in alloy bodywork that began as two-dimensiona­l sheets of thin-gauge aluminium, each panel was lovingly wheeled, hammered, dollied and planished into glorious sculptural forms by craftsmen. These were the last of the coachbuilt Astons to emerge from the storied Newport Pagnell factory.

The V550’s imposing style was defined by designers John Heffernan and Ken Greenley. Given they were also responsibl­e for the somewhat limp and rather anodyne Virage on which the V550 was based, this transforma­tion was less a redesign and more a glorious act of redemption. Few cars have more presence.

Only the roof and doors of the Virage survived their reworking. The glasshouse is more drawn-in at the C-pillars, the tail more truncated. The boot lid is flatter, but still with an upswept lip, below it a bold quartet of lollipop taillights. The nose is more of a shovel. Six headlamps give it an evil, aggressive face, but thanks to that iconic radiator grille aperture it’s still unmistakab­ly an Aston Martin.

The interior uses a classic palette of tactile and aromatic natural materials. It’s a spectacula­r slice of ’90s aristo-supercar, with several herds-worth of cream hide and a tree or two of glossy burr walnut veneer. With the shallow side windows, tall dash and rising instrument binnacle, you’re struck by the not-unpleasant sensation of being sat down in the bowels of the beast. They don’t make ’em like this anymore.

The seats themselves have a bewilderin­g array of adjustment buttons, and Sod’s Law dictates the last one you press is the one you wanted first. But they’re comfortabl­e and supportive and, once settled behind the steering wheel, you’re braced for one of the epic driving experience­s.

The heart of the matter is a hugely powerful twin-supercharg­ed evolution of Aston’s legendary 5340cc V8. Lift the bonnet and it’s like peering into the engine room of a warship, the view dominated by the pair of finned supercharg­er housings; one blower for each bank of cylinders. These days most under-bonnets are wholesale disappoint­ments, so it’s wonderful to gaze upon an engine that looks so impressive. Not least because for a time it was the most powerful production engine in the world.

Like the bodywork, these engines were all hand-built at Newport Pagnell, by men wearing workshop coats with biro marks above the pockets. Theirs was a skill that was phased out of Aston’s new-

car production when the V550 and its V600 and V600 Le Mans descendant­s ceased production. Thankfully their legacies live on, for each of these mighty powerplant­s bears a plaque with its maker’s name.

It’s this sense of it being made by people who understand how the car works, rather than it merely being assembled, that adds to the romance of the V550. And why it was such a glorious throwback, even when new. Aston was slow to move with the times, and paid the price, so it’s amusing to see what was deemed an anachronis­tic approach in the 1990s – that of building cars by hand, to order, in small numbers for a lot of money – becoming a successful business model in 2021. At least amongst the big-ticket brands.

Before you start the engine and drive away, it pays to remind yourself that this is a 25-year-old car. One with 550bhp, 550lb ft and no traction control or adaptive damping to tame it. Things were different in the ’90s, so rather than hoofing down the road and trusting in an invisible electronic safety net to catch your indiscreti­ons, you read the road ahead and weigh up all your critical inputs, ‘safe’ in the knowledge that the V550 will hold you accountabl­e if you don’t.

It might look the antithesis of compact, but the V550 is responsive and keen to change direction. This sense of energy is amplified by the engine, which has a sharp and, at times, abrupt delivery. At low speed this somewhat jagged throttle response can be a bit disruptive, especially if you’re blending in and out of the throttle, so care is needed if you’re not to kangaroo your way down the road.

Soundtrack-wise it’s very clearly a V8, but with brightness and clarity to the note that’s very different to the down-and-dirty thump of, say, a Chevy small-block. And, of course, there’s the additional layer of sound coming from the Eaton supercharg­ers, which whistle and whine as the car starts to work hard. It’s an amazingly mechanical cacophony. One that’s all the more enjoyable when you can separate the contributi­ons made by each of those big lumps of hardware beneath the bonnet.

The V550 has a six-speed manual gearbox, though there was the option of an automatic. A popular period modificati­on to the manual ’box was to blank off the absurdly tall sixth gear and change the final drive ratio to create a close-ratio five-speeder. With or without those mods, it’s a bit gristly and knotty to navigate the H-pattern gate, but once you get used to it you can cut some clean shifts. Describing the standard six-speed gearing as tall is a bit like saying Jeff Bezos is comfortabl­y off, but such is the motor’s muscle the loping ratios don’t blunt the performanc­e. Indeed a squeeze of the throttle in pretty much every gear apart from intergalac­tic sixth will lift the nose and push your head into the seat.

This is a seriously fast machine. Not in the context of today’s supercars, but then they can’t match the Aston’s runaway-train sensation as it climbs on top of its intermedia­te gears. There’s also something deeply impressive about the sense of energy and physics at work in picking up 1990kg of car and lobbing it down the road with such disdain. For a party piece, select a high gear and go from walking pace to warp speed in one eye-widening, ever-intensifyi­ng lunge. It really is like a steam locomotive once it hits its stride.

Contempora­ry road tests paint an impressive picture: 0-60mph in 4.6sec, 0-100mph in 10.1sec and a top speed of 186mph. Those figures certainly weren’t messing about back in 1993, and the intervenin­g 28 years have done little to diminish the experience those numbers represent.

Thankfully the brakes give you a bit of confidence. And so they should, for the huge 362mm ventilated front discs and brick-sized AP Racing calipers were the largest fitted to a road car when the V550 was introduced. They have considerab­le work to do, but there’s enough bite and stamina to give them a fighting chance against Sir Isaac Newton and his pesky laws of motion. The pedal is firm, the response nicely modulated. It’s not a car that you stand on its nose on the entry to corners, but it’s reassuring to feel the stoppers have the power to live up to their name.

Handling-wise there’s a good deal more feel and response than you might expect. Like pretty much all power-assisted systems of the period, the steering is a bit on the light side, but surprising­ly quick-witted. This does a good job of masking the car’s weight and size, and is backed up by an impressive keenness to turn in. There’s body-roll of a magnitude anyone weaned on 21st century GTS and supercars would be alarmed by, but, despite the lean, under lateral load the V550 works its tyres more evenly than you’d expect across the axles, with a nice sense of unity front to rear.

This natural handling balance is trustworth­y and easy to read, so while you’re respectful of the car’s mass and the lack of ultrarespo­nsive, finely tuned electronic driver aids as we know them today, the V550 finds decent grip and exhibits sufficient vertical body control for you to carry proper speed on undulating roads without undue fear of the big Aston squeezing its floorpan into the road through compressio­ns.

If the primary ride is reasonably supple when the suspension is working meaningful­ly through its travel, the secondary ride has a slightly brittle edge, with less low-speed isolation than you’d expect from a big GT. It’s not crashy or intrusivel­y stiff, but sharp-edged potholes send a momentary shudder through the car. It’s the kind of trade-off you have to make when you’re trying to contain so much mass without the operating range of today’s adaptive dampers.

As you might imagine with such an abundance of near-instant torque, it’s easy to overwhelm the rear tyres. Goodyear Eagle GS-DS are hardly state-of-the-art rubber, but the 285/45 ZR18 rear tyres put a sizeable slab of tread on the tarmac. Dry-road traction is strong in a straight line but, once you heel the V550 into a corner, it’s easier to break them free.

The first time you do is a bit of a sweaty-palmed moment, but more because of how you’re expecting the big Aston to behave than the reality. The speed of the steering, balance of the chassis and solid response from the throttle make it far more playful than you’d ever believe could be the case.

It’s great, if somewhat juvenile fun, though I suspect the game would have rather higher stakes in the rain. Brave would be the driver who takes liberties with this 1990kg monster on a wet road. Better, I suspect, to slot a high gear, trust in the taming qualities of a tall gear ratio and lean on the front end more than the rear.

‘WITH SUCH TORQUE IT’S EASY TO OVERWHELM THE REAR TYRES’

Introduced in 1993 and in production until 1999, just 239 of these amazing cars were built, around 80 of which received upgrades to V600 spec. With production drawing to a close as attention turned to readying the Mk1 Vanquish for production, Aston Martin built a further 40 to celebrate the 40th anniversar­y of Aston’s first (and only) outright win in the famous 24-hour race. Called the V8 Vantage Le Mans, they incorporat­ed the Works brake and chassis upgrades (and most, but not all, had the V600 engine, too) along with more extensive – and expensive! – bodywork modificati­ons, including a pair of aggressive nostrils and Dbr1-style side strakes.

As you’d expect the latter are the most prized by collectors. Costing £250,000 when new, values today are between £400,000 and £500,000. Cars featuring V600 upgrades are next in terms of values, with the best examples pushing £300k. Investment buyers tend to fixate on these rarest of the rare, but the ‘vanilla’ V550 has every bit of their charisma, wants for little in terms of performanc­e and is still far more exclusive than most of today’s limited-run specials. High-mileage cars in less desirable colours can be had for around £130,000, while the best examples nudge £200k. In the context of today’s collector market, that’s a lot of car for the money.

Rather like buying an historic Listed property, owning one of these last-of-the-handbuilt-era Astons requires financial fortitude to stay on top of essential maintenanc­e. What you get in return is a car with abundant character, the like of which you simply cannot expect to find in a modern car. Even something like a DBS Superlegge­ra. As such, the V550 is a monument to a bygone era. The ultimate post-historic Aston? You’ll hear little argument from me.

Aston Martin Vantage V550 Engine V8, 5340cc, twin-supercharg­ed Power 550bhp @ 6500rpm Torque 550lb ft @ 4000rpm Weight 1990kg Power-to-weight 281bhp/ton 0-60mph 4.6sec Top speed 186mph Price new £177,600 in 1993 evo rating ★★★★★

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 ??  ?? Right: triple headlights each side, adapted from the Alfa SZ, were one of the many visual changes from the 1989 Virage; cabin fittings were lavish, as was the oversteer…
Right: triple headlights each side, adapted from the Alfa SZ, were one of the many visual changes from the 1989 Virage; cabin fittings were lavish, as was the oversteer…
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 ??  ?? Left: the way Aston interiors were in the ’90s. The supercharg­ed car was the last time the Vantage badge was applied to one of Aston’s mighty super-gts
Left: the way Aston interiors were in the ’90s. The supercharg­ed car was the last time the Vantage badge was applied to one of Aston’s mighty super-gts
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 ??  ?? Opposite: finned housings of twin Eaton blowers dominate the engine bay. Gearshift has a rather grisly action, but with 550lb ft of torque on tap, gearchangi­ng is largely optional
Opposite: finned housings of twin Eaton blowers dominate the engine bay. Gearshift has a rather grisly action, but with 550lb ft of torque on tap, gearchangi­ng is largely optional

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