2012 Bentley Mulsanne on 2040-cars

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2015 Bentley Flying Spur V8

Despite Bentley's reputation as a holier-than-thou, ultra-luxury brand, at the end of the day, the Big B is still a business. As such, ongoing trends like powertrain downsizing and model range expansion are more prevalent at Bentley than ever. Just look at the Continental range - what started as the GT W12 has expanded into the GTC W12, GT V8, GT V8 S, GTC V8, GTC V8 S, GT Speed and GTC Speed. Talk about "have it your way."
But there's good reason for that. So many of these vehicles, despite their hand-crafted, bespoke nature, are all - gasp! - plug-and-play exercises that allow Bentley to appeal to the broadest range of upper-lux buyers, while keeping development costs relatively low. It's a move that's indeed worked, the company managing to post healthy sales increases year after year. And that's only going to get better, following the launch of the Flying Spur sedan last year, not to mention the upcoming, highly anticipated SUV that's in the works. As Kevin Rose, Bentley's member of the board for sales, marketing and aftersales told me recently, "The best years are yet to come."
To further expand an already growing range, I recently hopped a plane to London to experience the second member of the Flying Spur family - the V8. This less-powerful Spur offers better fuel efficiency and a lower staring price, while not compromising any of the brand's core values of luxury and refinement above all. But to paraphrase what executive editor Chris Paukert said when he drove the Conti GT V8 in 2012, this is indeed The Thinking Man's Flying Spur. Here, less really is more.

2021 Bentley Flying Spur V8 First Drive Review | Making a scene at the ends of the Earth

Even in the face of fading four-door relevance, a new luxury sedan still turns heads, and that goes double when it’s sporting the Flying B. The 2021 Bentley Flying Spur V8 marks the return of the “entry-level” variant of BentleyÂ’s storied touring sedan, and perhaps for the last time, as parent company Volkswagen appears poised to electrify its flagship luxury brand. As luxury nameplates go, Flying Spur really isnÂ’t all that long-running. It was used on a handful of cars in the late 1950s and early 1960s and then mothballed for four decades, returning in 2005 as part of the same Volkswagen prestige project that brought us the Phaeton. The two were even assembled side-by-side for a brief period at one of VWÂ’s German facilities while BentleyÂ’s factory in Crewe scaled up; that probably went over far better in 2005 than it would have in 1959.  My oldest remaining memory of the (then still a Continental) Flying SpurÂ’s modern incarnation stems from a write-up by a journalist who had embedded with some of VW GroupÂ’s engineers in South Africa. They were subjecting it to hot-weather validation, running the prototype (disguised as a Mercedes-Benz) deep into triple-digit territory on remote, dusty highways in a once-unforgiving and distant corner of the globe. The whole thing seemed very romantic to a 20-year-old college student and budding European car nut. The notion of a 190-mph super-sedan being tested in a locale that was once the southern terminus of the known world seemed almost mythical, and it left me with the lingering image of the Flying Spur as the sort of conveyance one might employ in a quest to reach the very ends of the Earth. Naturally, it wasnÂ’t long after Bentley asked if I wanted to sample the new Flying Spur V8 that this association bubbled up. LetÂ’s face it, though; taking a road trip in a grand British luxury sedan needs no justification. This isnÂ’t a car that requires an occasion; it supplies one all on its own. The 4.0-liter V8Â’s 542 horsepower may not hold a candle to the W12Â’s 626, but it also has to contend with 200 fewer pounds. Combined with cylinder deactivation, the V8 manages a 16% improvement in fuel economy, eking out 15 mpg in the city, 20 on the highway and 17 combined. The base V8 model also lacks the W12Â’s standard all-wheel steering and electronically controlled anti-roll bars, but those are still available if youÂ’re willing to cough up some extra cash, and relatively little of it, all things considered.

The myth and mystery of The Bentley Cocktail

The other day, we were trying to find ways to delight a visiting relative who requested a cocktail made with apple brandy (don't ask), and after poring through Mr. Boston and The Playboy Bartender's Guide we were fortunate enough to come across a recipe. This particular concoction piqued our interest not just because it was a means to get rid of that bottle of Calvados that had been malingering on our bar cart, drawing fruit flies and quizzical scorn, since it was gifted to us at the launch of the Peugeot 407 in 2004. It was because of the automotive connection. (Duh.) The cocktail is called The Bentley, and it has a sexy, if probably apocryphal, origin story. According to the legend, the Bentley Boys – rich, Jazz Age, car-loving, British playboy racers – invented the drink after their first of five Le Mans victories, in 1924. Canadian-born WWI hero and Olympic swordsman John Duff and local English Bentley test driver and Bentley 3-Liter Super Sport owner Frank Clement were the only British team and vehicle in this second-ever endurance race, surrounded by more than three dozen French drivers and cars (and a couple of Germans). But despite typical British maladies ­– broken shocks, seized lug nuts, and a dysfunctional gearshift – and a slew of fires, punctures, and chassis-snapping wrecks amongst the field, they persevered. Arriving at their celebratory party at their club near their adjoining apartments in London's exclusive Mayfair neighborhood, they discovered that all of the alcohol had been consumed, with the exception of Calvados and Dubonnet. Mixing these together in equal parts, and adding some bitters, they allegedly invented a drink to settle their affluent nerves. Like most folkloric explanations for the existence of some gross cocktails – the wisecrack-inspired Tom Collins, the whole-cloth-concocted Seelbach – the tale seemed as compelling to us as it was ridiculous. Fortunately, among our friends are many with mastery in mixology, so we decided to put the mystery (and recipe) to them. "To be honest, I'd never even heard of the cocktail," said Tokyo-based international beverage expert Nick Coldicott, the most skeptical of our potation pundits. "And that story smells fishy to me. It seems unlikely that a party venue would have enough of a booze collection to have Calvados and Dubonnet, but not enough whisky or gin or champagne to see the party out.