2009 Aston Martin Dbs Coupe Lightning Silver 6 Speed Manual on 2040-cars

Auto blog

Aston Martin renames Vantage GT3 after Porsche throws hissy fit

Porsche has a long history of using the name "GT3" for its hardcore, naturally aspirated 911 models, and that means it's certainly not going to share it with the likes of Aston Martin. See, it seems the arrival of the Aston Martin Vantage GT3 at the 2015 Geneva Motor Show didn't sit well with Stuttgart, which opted to lawyer up. According to Goodwood Road and Racing, attorneys from both sides of the Channel have been in discussion for months over the issue, with Porsche arguing it's been using the GT3 name since 1999, and that makes it theirs. Aston, though, argues that the FIA GT3 racing series makes the name fair game for road cars. Moreover, the Brits point out that the alphanumeric was in use well before Porsche got its mitts on it – GRR rightly points out the Lotus Esprit GT3 hit the streets three years before the 996 GT3. And while we're on the subject, Bentley has its own GT3, but we're guessing its status as one of Porsche's siblings means its immune to this kind of squabbling. Rather than getting into a knock-down, drag-out courtroom brawl with one of the Volkswagen Group's prized brands, though, Aston has taken the high road. The company will rechristen both the road-going Vantage GT3 and Vantage racer as the GT12. While Porsche is no stranger to aggressively protecting what it views as its closely held vehicle names, we have to admit, it seems like Aston actually has something of a case. Do you think the Brits were right to settle and change the Vantage's name, or should they have taken the fight to Porsche? Have your say in Comments.

Are supercars becoming less special?

There's little doubt that we are currently enjoying the golden age of automotive performance. Dozens of different models on sale today make over 500 horsepower, and seven boast output in excess of 700 hp. Not long ago, that kind of capability was exclusive to supercars – vehicles whose rarity, performance focus, and requisite expense made them aspirational objects of desire to us mortals. But more than that, supercars have historically offered a unique driving experience, one which was bespoke to a particular model and could not be replicated elsewhere. But in recent years, even the low-volume players have been forced to find the efficiencies and economies of scale that formerly hadn't been a concern for them, and in turn the concept of the supercar as a unique entity unto itself is fading fast. The blame doesn't fall on one particular manufacturer nor a specific production technique. Instead, it's a confluence of different factors that are chipping away at the distinction of these vehicles. It's not all bad news – Lamborghini's platform sharing with Audi for the Gallardo and the R8 yielded a raging bull that was more reliable and easier to live with on a day-to-day basis, and as a result it went on to become the best-selling Lambo in the company's history. But it also came at the cost of some of the Italian's exclusivity when eerily familiar sights and sounds suddenly became available wearing an Audi badge. Even low-volume players have been forced to find economies of scale. Much of this comes out of necessity, of course. Aston Martin's recent deal with Mercedes-AMG points toward German hardware going under the hood and into the cabin of the upcoming DB11, and it's safe to assume that this was not a decision made lightly by the Brits, as the brand has built a reputation for the bespoke craftsmanship of its vehicles. There's little doubt that the DB11 will be a fine automobile, but the move does jeopardize some of the characteristic "specialness" that Astons are known for. Yet the world is certainly better off with new Aston Martins spliced with DNA from Mercedes-AMG rather than no new Astons at all, and the costs of developing cutting-edge drivetrains and user interfaces is a burden that's becoming increasingly difficult for smaller manufacturers to bear. Even Ferrari is poised to make some dramatic changes in the way it designs cars.

The last gunfighter | 2017 Aston Martin V12 Vantage S First Drive

Here's a deliciously subversive thought for you: Stats are ruining enthusiast cars. We use them to rank the latest models, critique them, and deify them. Sometimes the numbers happen to align with a bunch of intangibles, and the car becomes transcendent – like the Ferrari 458 Speciale, a very special thing indeed. There are cars with great numbers and very little charisma; I've driven many of them. And then, there are the number-based narratives that mislead us. For example, the hoopla around the Mazda MX-5's horsepower, or the continuing lack of a Toyobaru with a turbo – frustrating crosstalk about purist platforms better understood on track than on paper. The 2017 Aston Martin V12 Vantage S is flawed, old, and weak – so say the insidious numbers. A mechanical watch doesn't keep time as well as a quartz one, the numbers say. A tube amplifier produces an inferior sound, the numbers say. The way to fight back is to stop this slavish devotion to the stats and go wind the thing out on good roads in imperfect conditions, which is to my mind the ultimate test of a grand tourer's competence. Southern California was rocked this winter by wild weather – much of the Angeles Crest Highway that dances along the spine of the San Gabriel Mountains was closed due to heavy snow. So much for Plan A. Some roadside rerouting led to some promising roads, so I pointed the Aston into the curves. The V12 roar is a profound part of this car's appeal. Uphill and building steam, the Vantage is a symphony's brass section playing the sounds of wolves on the hunt. Downshifts yowl and snarl like a pack crashing through the underbrush in search of prey. Under deceleration, it sounds like lupine static, unearthly and resonant; wound out it's a frenzied whir. Every stab of throttle brings an immediate response: sound and acceleration in equal measure. If you have even the barest appreciation of joy, you can't stay out of the throttle. This is soulful, warm, analog – but merely honest rather than consciously retro. There's nothing here trying to simulate an authentic experience – it is an authentic experience. It's all right there, under the long and delicate hood – twelve cylinders displacing 5.9 liters. And inside the cabin, a seven-speed manual gearshift lever that moves through a dogleg pattern. This watch requires winding; it's a tactile experience that the quickest, most sophisticated dual-clutch automated manual can't touch.