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18 July 2024On the bright side
The Rolls-Royce Dawn proves its worth on a trip from one tip of France to the other
R eciprocity is in the nature of life. It’s the world of give and take. For every war there’s an Oskar Schindler. For every yin there’s a yang. For every tortuously long journey there’s a car to offset the many miles. Or maybe that’s just my innate cynicism?
I take cars and write about them from a lifestyle point of view. Not for me the minutiae of power-to-weight ratios or the schematics of an engine bay. So imagine my delight at the thought of taking the new Rolls-Royce Dawn the length of France.
What could be better than this convertible cruiser in the sunshine in late May and early June? Well… man plans and the gods laugh.
Firstly my joy was somewhat tempered by news of France-wide strikes at fuel refineries which would mean overly cautious planning around service station stops and judicious usage of the voluminous power under the hood. Then, to dampen my anticipation further, incessant rain meant no opportunity to take off the roof without recourse to life rings and a snorkel. But I’m British. We make do.
It must be terribly disheartening to be a Rolls-Royce employee. A perpetual search for perfection seems tempered by a marrow-deep belief that the best has not yet been achieved. Waking up every day in the full and firm belief that, as Robert Browning so appositely remarked, ‘a man’s reach should be beyond his grasp or what’s a heaven for?’, means that engineers, management and administration staff are perpetually doomed to underachievement if only in their own eyes. Perfection for Rolls-Royce is not attainable, but by goodness they try.
Potholes were not even noticed as we glided towards the main roads, while the assorted wildlife was easily avoidable
The reciprocity of this works in the favour of the owner, of course. It’s inconceivable that the individual will take possession of a car and feel any vague sense of disappointment. It does how make the reviewer’s job that much harder. So tuned am I to the Rolls-Royce benchmark by now that I find myself in the invidious position of balancing a dichotomy.
On the one hand I am searching (assiduously, I assure you!) to find a negative to remark upon for the reader’s edification. And yet, whenever I step into the latest offering from Goodwood, I feel myself to be something of a brand ambassador. Many a road test option from another manufacturer has presented itself at my door with which I’ve felt no real connection. With every vehicle that comes to me from this most British of manufacturers (despite its German ownership) I’ve felt a sense of kinship.
Rolls-Royce really should be considered an icon for the anti-Brexit faction. That German ownership combined with a sense of unique ‘Britishness’ serves to validate the very heart of multiculturalism that the European Union symbolises for many.
Dawn, along with her other stablemates, has all the grate and graunch of a silk scarf sliding down a marble staircase
So with the Dawn I find myself driving the length of France accompanied by my wife and a vindictive monsoon. Over the course of the drive to a chateau in the Dordogne thence to a day trip to Montpellier and homewards there is ample opportunity to put all styles of road and driving to the test. The only thing we were unable to do was put the roof down until the day before the car was taken back and a Sunday jaunt into the centre of London to say a fond farewell.
The exquisitely detailed and highly informative satellite navigation system never failed to surprise. Trust was instant as the slightest deviation resulted in such swift recalculation that driving such a big vehicle on the ‘wrong’ side of the road never felt remotely challenging.
Leaving the chateau in darkness for a nine-hour round trip to the capital of Languedoc-Roussillon for a family wedding started with us taking to farming roads – paved but narrow and unmarked. Obviously, this is not the Dawn’s natural territory but the famous Rolls-Royce waft was much in evidence. Potholes were not even noticed as we glided towards the main roads while the rabbits, foxes and other assorted wildlife were easily avoidable with the fitted optional night-vision camera deployed.
Arrival in Montpellier – a city as friendly to the modern automobile as a paparazzo to a playboy prince – was beautifully dealt with. A plethora of tiny one-way streets and an overwhelming welcome at a secure municipal car park. So impressed was the attendant that he insisted that we parked in a bay reserved for parents with children or the handicapped. He insisted that this was because it was the only slot that would accommodate such a big vehicle but, in a whispered aside to me, he confessed that, as said bay was directly outside his window, he could spend the rest of the day ogling her.
Leaving the Dawn in the attendant’s lustful care, I spent the day regaling my family with descriptions of her options. The heads-up display brought murmurs of appreciation as did the existence of the lambswool carpeting, even into the luggage compartment.
I would shout about Dawn’s virtues to the hills if shouting would not be considered gauche
However, when I revealed how she came with massaging seats I was met with a pregnant pause before an explosion of amused envy. Everyone wanted this option retro-fitted to their particular chariots. And why wouldn’t they?
The road back provided me with the opportunity to exorcise a particular Rolls-Royce ghost (as opposed to Ghost). Never before have I genuinely found the circumstance to test the much-vaunted Satellite Aided Transmission but here I did. The A9 between Toulouse and Agen is a péage of serendipitous perfection for feeling the performance of a highly engineered road car. It twists, it turns, it rises, it falls, all on beautifully surfaced, seamless tarmac. Particularly at 3am with no traffic was I able to use all my senses to feel for engine note changes as gears were shifted to accommodate the differences in the topography.
Engaging the cruise control at the speed limit I listened hard for appropriate changes up or down in the eight-speed ZF gearbox but to no avail. The shifts were so smooth with Dawn plotting the road ahead and optimising her own performance that sitting behind the wheel I was as close to being a passenger as it were possible to be in that particular seat.
Given the variety of roads encountered in this particular journey, both urban and extra-urban and downright agricultural, I was curious also to see how the fuel economy worked out. Rolls-Royce’s specification sheet says ‘results should be used for comparison only’ and that Dawn will return a combined consumption of 20mpg. Well, without trying, I managed, with this petrol-driven, V12, 6.6-litre, 2,560kg behemoth, 23.5mpg. Astonishing.
I fall firmly into the age (if not financial) demographic of Dawn that Rolls-Royce is targeting. I may not be in the market for having this exquisite automobile sitting outside my door, but if Rolls-Royce would care for me continuing my ambassadorial role then I’ll happily comply.
I would shout about Dawn’s virtues to the hills if shouting would not be considered gauche. Indeed I’m not sure ‘to shout’ is a verb in the Rolls-Royce lexicon.
Dawn, along with her other stablemates, has all the grate and graunch of a silk scarf sliding down a marble staircase. With the disappearing Spirit of Ecstasy the maximum possible is done to make her subtle.
The incorporated umbrellas in the bodywork are a wonderful touch, however the shortest of shortcomings for this week of weeks was a dearth of oars. I’m not sure they would have been on the options list.
And the reciprocity in all of the above? Well, for all the fun I had, I had to hand her back.
Words: TG
