1986 Rolls Royce Silver Spur Base Sedan 4-door 6.7l on 2040-cars

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Question of the Day: What's the greatest British car ever?

The British automotive industry has produced everything from high-production econo-commuters to staggeringly luxurious oligarch-wagons, along the way winning plenty of races and building plenty of beautiful machines. The original Mini led directly to the past half-century of transverse-engine, front-wheel-drive cars built everywhere, the MGB put the sporty little convertible into everyone's reach, and the Morris Oxford became the most beloved motor vehicle in India. So many to choose from, but we want you to pick one. What will it be? Related Video:

Rolls-Royce Wraith convertible planned, SUV rumors kicked to the curb

Seeing as it adheres to the exotic car template we've known for years, it should surprise no one that the next model from Rolls-Royce will reportedly be a convertible version of the Wraith. When the coupe is on its way to dealers at the end of this year, company CEO Torsten Müller-Ötvös has told Autocar that the British luxury marque start applying itself to the convertible.
At no time will they apply themselves to an SUV, though. Still sticking to its brand-value guns, Müller-Ötvös says that an SUV wouldn't have that trademark Rolls-Royce feeling and that such a vehicle hasn't even been discussed. Having heard this before from other brands, we can't help but suspect that one day in the future we'll hear the phrase, "Oh, but this is the Rolls-Royce of SUVs."
The investment in an SUV would also mean a huge investment in the factory at Goodwood, however, since Wraith production is expected to need three shifts and raise levels to near capacity. And forget about building anything from The Spirit of Ecstasy somewhere else, Müller-Ötvös saying, "Rolls-Royces are built in Goodwood."

Navigating the road time forgot in a Rolls-Royce Cullinan

The Rolls-Royce Cullinan glides evenly over the rutted single-lane dirt road, barely unsettling its passengers. Nobody is speaking in the lush cabin, not even my normally chatty 7-year-old.  All eyes are turned to the Delaware River gliding by, a dozen feet away, through a skim of skeletal hardwood trees. There’s no sign of humanity or habitation. ItÂ’s almost a scene in a movie. The Last of the Mohicans, perhaps.  Today we are exploring the Old Mine Road, and it is making us think of ghosts. Its 104 miles of asphalt and dirt make up one of the oldest continuously-used roads in America, stretching from New YorkÂ’s Catskills to the Pennsylvania Delaware Water Gap. The Lenape are thought to have first threaded a path here in the 1300s.  It is also a pathway wending its way through the NortheastÂ’s violent history, from bloody skirmishes between the original Native American inhabitants and European settlers to the Americans and Brits in the Revolutionary War. Little wonder that out here in the quiet, that history — and those ghosts — feel close. Amazingly, the 40-mile section in New Jersey that follows the eastern banks of the Delaware looks much like it did a hundred years ago. There are million-dollar views, but as part of the Delaware recreation area, no development is allowed.  Instead of the gated McMansions youÂ’d expect less than 1.5 hours from New York City, we are greeted by silent forest and twin lanes of bumpy or shattered asphalt. ThereÂ’s a section of dirt and gravel, narrowing to a single lane. Easy to imagine hundreds of years of horses and mules stamping down the thin path.  It is early spring and like everyone else, we have cabin fever. My wife, son and mother-in-law are sheltering-in-place at our country house in the Poconos. America is locked into a struggle with an invisible enemy. It seems a good time to get some historical perspective. If our ancestors lived and endured under harsh conditions, so can we.  There is nothing inherently unsafe or socially unacceptable about taking a short road trip on a virtually unused road, so we pack a lunch of cold pizza and snacks, and pile into the leather-bound, environmentally-controlled cocoon of the Rolls. We make our way to Kingston, N.Y., where the road begins. IÂ’m finally going to drive the entirety of the Old Mine Road.   Our Barney-purple Cullinan is a rolling sanctuary, a movable fortress of social isolation.