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Bentley designer calls Lincoln Continental concept a Flying Spur 'copy' [w/poll]

When you first laid eyes on the new Lincoln Continental concept, we'd wager you were likely impressed, because it's an impressive design. But if you also thought it looked familiar, you're in good company. According to Car Design News, design chief Luc Donckerwolke over at Bentley thinks the Lincoln concept bears more than a passing resemblance to another Continental: Bentley's own Flying Spur. "This behavior is not respectable. Building a copy like this is giving a bad name to the car design world," Donckerwolke told CDN, after posting some disparaging comments on Facebook and offering in jest to send over the tooling. "It is very disappointing, especially for an exclusive brand like Lincoln," added Sangyup Lee, his deputy for exterior design. The irony is further entrenched by the name, which Bentley only dropped from its Flying Spur in its latest iteration but still uses for the coupe and convertible models. Both automakers have a deeply routed history with the nameplate, but Lincoln's stretches back further, having first used the handle in 1939 before Bentley did in 1952. However it's not the nameplate that's the subject of controversy here, rather the design of the vehicle to which it's applied. So what do you think, did Lincoln borrow too heavily from its British counterpart? Related Video:

Bentley Bentayga bodies to be built in Bratislava

Volkswagen's plant in Bratislava, Slovakia, has come a long way. After getting its start in 1971 by subcontracting the production of Skoda-branded vehicles, the plant was purchased by VW in 1991, where it was quickly put to further good use as it began producing Volkswagen Passat models for export. More recently, Bratislava has become a bastion for SUVs, assembling the Audi Q7 and Porsche Cayenne, in addition to the VW Touareg. Color us unsurprised, then, to learn that the Bentley Bentayga, which will be built atop the same large SUV platform as its cousins from Audi, Porsche and VW, will also be used for at least part of the production of Bentley's first SUV. Surely, though, one of the hallmarks of the Bentley brand is that its cars are handmade in England. Won't the Bentley-buying populace feel slighted by production in Slovakia? Not to worry. As is the case with the Porsche Cayenne, all that will be produced in Slovakia is the Bentayga's body. According to a report from Automotive News, bodies for the Bentayga will be shipped from Bratislava to Crewe, England, where they will be finished into fully operational vehicles. In order to accommodate the additional work, VW will reportedly invest 500 million euros into the plant in Slovakia and hire hundreds of workers.

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.