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2016 Rolls-Royce Dawn First Drive

There is apparently a migration of sorts among the set that would buy something like the 2016 Rolls-Royce Dawn, the newly arrived drophead variant of the raffish Wraith. When our theoretical Dawn buyer finds the Cote d'Azur or some such place a bit chilly, perhaps it's off to South Africa. Late March is the tail end of summer, and it's an exceedingly pleasant way to get into the Dawn state of mind. Stellenbosch is just northeast of Cape Town, the "Mother City." What used to be open country occupied primarily by the Khoikhoi and Khoisan peoples, as well as prototypical African game, is now wine country. Our starting point is a vineyard estate called Delaire Graff owned by a diamond baron. South Africa's diverse and stunning countryside is on display as we leave the vineyard and climb. The lower highlands are covered with quasi-Californian scrub, but with altitude the scene transforms into a mist-tickled moor full of low heather-like plants and tumbling rivulets. We traverse the suburban lowlands to a windy road clinging to a cliffside above the crashing surf of the Indian Ocean. Ancient cliffs and peaks jut over us at improbable angles and in fascinating shapes. At the end of our drive, looking across False Bay, the Cape stretches south towards the equivocal boundary between two oceans. Twice and then once, the Cape lighthouse winks at the end of Africa. Most automakers consider sportiness the ultimate attribute. Like its stablemates, the Rolls-Royce Dawn's draw is its timelessness and unabashed luxury. Here that's paired with the inherent hedonism of a convertible, not to mention the cachet that comes with spending $340,000 or more (most likely more) on a car. That figure makes the Dawn more expensive than the Ghost or Wraith, but less than the Phantom range. The Dawn is vast; like most huge things, it commands attention because it takes up so much space. Watching my colleagues dart around town was a bit like watching a flotilla of cruise liners maneuver to their moorages. Like a yacht with a lot of freeboard, the flanks rise impressively to the top of the door, but then there's some tumblehome inward to the thick brightwork strip ringing the cabin. A longitudinal spear of chrome bisects the hood, a bit like a grab-rail on the foredeck. The Spirit of Ecstasy could have graced the bowsprit of any of the windjammers that hove into Table Bay. Twice and then once, the Cape lighthouse winks at the end of Africa.

Rolls-Royce Cullinan spotted playing in the snow

This is no ordinary Phantom. Not that you'd call any Rolls-Royce ordinary, considering the brand's stratospheric pricing and hand-built pedigree. But this one is extra special, because it's a test bed for the British luxury brand's very first SUV, tentatively known as the Cullinan. We've known Rolls-Royce was out and about testing this brand-new, all-aluminum platform in the wild, but this is the first time we've seen it so clearly. It looks a little bit like a shortened Phantom sedan, with big swathes of metal seemingly cut away from the rear doors, but it's more than that. We can't be certain, but there's probably a big V12 engine underhood sending torque to all four wheels, and it looks to be riding high enough to offer some legitimate off-road capability. The aggressive tires are another giveaway that this Rolls may be going places no Phantom before it has dared. With Bentley finding success in the luxurious 'ute market with the Bentayga, we're sure Rolls-Royce is pushing to get its Cullinan into the driveways of one-percenters the world over as soon as possible. See the mule for yourself in our high-res image gallery above. As for us, well... we're just wondering what happened to that sweet rear spoiler. Related Video: Featured Gallery Rolls-Royce Cullinan: Spy Shots View 10 Photos Spy Photos Rolls-Royce Crossover SUV Luxury rolls-royce cullinan

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.