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One last blast: the Aston Martin V12 Vantage

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One last blast: the Aston Martin V12 Vantage | Top Gear

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One last blast: the Aston Martin V12 Vantage

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One last blast: the Aston Martin V12 Vantage

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There’s no way this doesn’t sound like a good idea – get your smallest, most nimble car, and use crowbars, grease and bloody mindedness to force it to swallow the biggest engine you have at your disposal. Forget design parameters and subtle intention, fail perfectly, just make it fierce. Make it feral. Make it an event. It’s a recipe that’s worked for years by not creating objectively the ‘best’ cars with benign intentions, but in terms of roadgoing weaponry, things that tend to be fully self-aware and happy with their brutality. Variants with all the subtlety of a snooker ball in a sock. Aston Martin knows. It’s why the idea of a Vantage that’s inhaled a V12 is not a new thing. Say hello to the next generation of gentleman thug; the new Aston Martin Vantage V12.

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Images: Alex Tapley

The blueprint is familiar territory; the 5.2-litre twin-turbo V12 from the larger DB11 and DBS Superleggera inveigled into the front of the much smaller Vantage, roughing out 690bhp and 550lb ft of torque. Enough for a 0–62mph time in the mid-threes and the double tonne, given space and lack of applicable laws. A wider body. Out there aero. No hybrid, no real attempts at fuel efficiency, no regrets and no apologies. An outrageous swagger of a car that subverts the usual subtleties of Aston Martin’s image.

You won’t be confused as to which Vantage you’re looking at, that’s for sure. A 40mm expansion of the track width doesn’t sound like much, but the new V12 looks thick and wide, the impression of serious faced intensity amplified by a decidedly indiscreet set of exterior modifications. Subtle, it ain’t. This is a car that wears its performance like a glittering diamanté knuckleduster. Starting at the front, there’s a new carbon-fibre front bumper and bonnet – now with a slash-cut horseshoe-shaped vent in the front – and carbon front wings linked to the rear by a new, one-piece carbon sideskirt “inspired by motorsport”. There’s carbon on the roof, and the rear bumper and venturi is new (yup, carbon fibre), as are the integrated twin pipes of the centre exit exhaust system, which is made of actual metal, albeit thinner than usual to save weight.

Then there’s the big wing plonked onto the carbon bootlid which makes the V12 Vantage look like it might actually be more comfortable in livery rather than red paint. Interestingly, you can option the V12 without, and once you’ve seen it bare and in a more sober colour, I doubt the ironing board will be on the agenda. Especially when you learn that, according to Aston, the V12 has “similar levels of high-speed stability” without the wing (although less overall downforce). The whole lot produces 204kg of downforce at 200mph apparently, but you could also tell me it shoots invisible unicorns from the exhaust at 200mph, because I can’t prove that either without renting an airfield or risking prison.

Still, with all that carbon, the V12 must be close to offsetting the weight of the 12-cylinder versus the V8, right? The new exhaust apparently saves 7.2kg, the optional carbon seats 7.3kg, the standard carbon-ceramic brakes 23kg. The kind of proudly noted minutiae that speak of obsessive weight saving. But the seats are still part electric – there’s a pull-strap for the base, motors for the seatback and a full set of now partially redundant controls on the centre console. The car still weighs at least 150kg more than a V8 Coupe. Erm.

You’ll also be faintly disappointed with the interior. The carbon-backed seats look amazing and are surprisingly comfortable but the bit you look at – the dash itself – is frankly out of touch. In a car costing well in excess of a quarter of a million quid, the small, stuck-on central display has aged badly, and the centre console looks like someone filled a shotgun with buttons and then just fired it at the dashboard. At this kind of price, we can’t – and shouldn’t – be letting Aston Martin off. Sticking a ‘V12’ badge in the middle of the mess of switches isn’t enough to distract.

Still, nobody is buying this thing for the coherence of the button strategy, except for the one marked ‘start’. That one doesn’t disappoint. Foot on the brake and strong press, and you’ll hear a whirr of priming fuel pumps before the engine fires. It doesn’t bark into life like the V8 cars, but whoops into being with a higher pitch. Only then does it chuff through the exhaust like a drunk lion. This is good. Stab ‘D’ and you’re on the move, eight-speed ZF auto clever and deft enough to trawl without any hiccups, no fuss. A bit of pottering for a while to get used to everything and the first impressions are good.

There are three modes, Sport, Sport+ and Track, and the lower orders are stiff but not uncomfortable. If you look at the specs, it should ride like a marble skateboard; front spring rates are 50 per cent up, rears are 40, there are 13 per cent stiffer top mounts and there’s new bushing and geometry, as well as recalibrated settings for the active dampers and steering to make the car ultra responsive. Open the boot and there’s even a strut brace that looks like a bit of industrial pipe welded between the rear towers. It’s not pretty, but it shows intention. And yet the V12 is capable of normal use without too much effort – it’s not cosseting, but it’s usable. Straight and sighted bit of road, flick between modes, drop two gears via the left-hand paddle and floor it. My face snaps silently through an insane street mime’s entire repertoire of facial expressions: surprise, shock, incredulity and finally straight-up fear.

I forgot that I’d switched off the traction control, and what started as a slither of wheelspin is suddenly a thick, noxious cloud of evaporated Michelin Pilot 4S. There’s power here. Up the speed – traction firmly back on – and there’s that usual Vantage shift as you go faster: what feels dense and a bit heavy leavening as the speed increases, until you’re driving something that feels largely like a different car. It loses perceived mass in direct relation to how hard you press the accelerator. It also has a huge amount of grip if you’re not trying to provoke it, sharp steering helping arc the car anywhere you want it. But it’s tough to get the car to stick to a line if there are any bumps anywhere in the vicinity – even in the softest damper setting, the car will skip, flaring the rear tyres and making you work for every inch. The V12 doesn’t rev like a chainsaw, it takes some time to build and lose its internal momentum, gathers its power and turbo torque in a measured way. Once it gets going, it is palpably immense. But it doesn’t like losing revs: break traction and you can’t just snap the throttle shut to mitigate the excess, because the engine doesn’t react like a switch. That makes this car better at big bends lived on the edge of grip, rather than the short, sharp shocks of your typical B-road.

After a few hours of driving on various kinds of roads, that gets a bit frustrating. Bluntly and counterintuitively, even though the V12 is properly travelling, it doesn’t feel that fast compared with some of its contemporaries. The way the V12 makes power is a wave, an open-handed slap of silken revs that builds as it nears the redline. But the car is a fist of a thing, and feels like it needs something faster revving, punchier, more aggressive. An engine that attacks from the off, rather than delivering with V12 sophistication. The V8 F1 Edition has basically the same performance stats bar a tenth or two of acceleration and 5mph less top end – not enough to make a huge difference in feel – and it feels more insistent and perky, more up for it. As for the noise, it’s really nice, a surging wail that feeds on its own urgency as it gathers, but it won’t make the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention like the un-turbo’d 2009 original. Maybe it loses some vocal range from the muffling effect of the turbos, but it could have been a little bit naughtier.

It loses perceived mass in direct relation to how hard you press the accelerator.

Competition to the surgical Porsche 911 Turbo S? No, not really. The Aston is a theatrical thing, where the Porsche is utterly brilliant, but a bit obsessed with Getting It Done. The Aston flounces about making faintly operatic noises and crowd pleasing, while the Porsche disappears stage left with all the aural excitement of a large dog coughing up a lung. It’s not that the V12 isn’t fast – it is – but it’s a challenging car to drive, and feels much more old school.

The big car/small engine philosophy used to be a bit different, in that the ‘big’ engine generally meant the much more powerful one. An intentional mismatch of muscle to mass. The V12 is the most powerful Vantage still, but it isn’t actually the fiercest. Bluntly, this isn’t the best, most balanced Vantage. Which wouldn’t be a problem, but it’s also not – quite – silly enough, either. It’s a bit of an outlier, boxed in by specificity, bandwidth narrowed. It would shine on big, flowing roads and racetracks where it could swoop around corners carrying ridiculous amounts of speed, the V12 sat tight and bright in its comfort zone. But the UK isn’t the place where you can get the best out of it very often, save making gloriously pointless noises on Kensington High Street. Logic and emotion aren’t always best friends. Sometimes they argue, and something objectively, logically flawed gets punched in the face by something subjectively, weirdly brilliant. But the V12 Vantage doesn’t feel like it offers anything ridiculously singular, and that’s a bit of a shame.

The overkill here is to be celebrated, endorsed and enjoyed, but done so with the acceptance that this is a caricature. And it makes no difference anyway; the 333-car run has already sold out, presumably to people who understand the flaws, but enjoy the fireworks. And like a firework, this is the V12 going out with a bang and then a fade to black – ex-Aston boss Tobias Moers said that this car will be the last of the V12 Vantages as more efficient powertrains enter the Aston Martin portfolio. One last blast for the lucky few then, but you get the feeling that it’s the right decision.

# data.attributes.body.processed
There’s no way this doesn’t sound like a good idea – get your smallest, most nimble car, and use crowbars, grease and bloody mindedness to force it to swallow the biggest engine you have at your disposal. Forget design parameters and subtle intention, fail perfectly, just make it fierce. Make it feral. Make it an event. It’s a recipe that’s worked for years by not creating objectively the ‘best’ cars with benign intentions, but in terms of roadgoing weaponry, things that tend to be fully self-aware and happy with their brutality. Variants with all the subtlety of a snooker ball in a sock. Aston Martin knows. It’s why the idea of a Vantage that’s inhaled a V12 is not a new thing. Say hello to the next generation of gentleman thug; the new Aston Martin Vantage V12.

Images: Alex Tapley

The blueprint is familiar territory; the 5.2-litre twin-turbo V12 from the larger DB11 and DBS Superleggera inveigled into the front of the much smaller Vantage, roughing out 690bhp and 550lb ft of torque. Enough for a 0–62mph time in the mid-threes and the double tonne, given space and lack of applicable laws. A wider body. Out there aero. No hybrid, no real attempts at fuel efficiency, no regrets and no apologies. An outrageous swagger of a car that subverts the usual subtleties of Aston Martin’s image.

You won’t be confused as to which Vantage you’re looking at, that’s for sure. A 40mm expansion of the track width doesn’t sound like much, but the new V12 looks thick and wide, the impression of serious faced intensity amplified by a decidedly indiscreet set of exterior modifications. Subtle, it ain’t. This is a car that wears its performance like a glittering diamanté knuckleduster. Starting at the front, there’s a new carbon-fibre front bumper and bonnet – now with a slash-cut horseshoe-shaped vent in the front – and carbon front wings linked to the rear by a new, one-piece carbon sideskirt “inspired by motorsport”. There’s carbon on the roof, and the rear bumper and venturi is new (yup, carbon fibre), as are the integrated twin pipes of the centre exit exhaust system, which is made of actual metal, albeit thinner than usual to save weight.

Then there’s the big wing plonked onto the carbon bootlid which makes the V12 Vantage look like it might actually be more comfortable in livery rather than red paint. Interestingly, you can option the V12 without, and once you’ve seen it bare and in a more sober colour, I doubt the ironing board will be on the agenda. Especially when you learn that, according to Aston, the V12 has “similar levels of high-speed stability” without the wing (although less overall downforce). The whole lot produces 204kg of downforce at 200mph apparently, but you could also tell me it shoots invisible unicorns from the exhaust at 200mph, because I can’t prove that either without renting an airfield or risking prison.

Still, with all that carbon, the V12 must be close to offsetting the weight of the 12-cylinder versus the V8, right? The new exhaust apparently saves 7.2kg, the optional carbon seats 7.3kg, the standard carbon-ceramic brakes 23kg. The kind of proudly noted minutiae that speak of obsessive weight saving. But the seats are still part electric – there’s a pull-strap for the base, motors for the seatback and a full set of now partially redundant controls on the centre console. The car still weighs at least 150kg more than a V8 Coupe. Erm.

You’ll also be faintly disappointed with the interior. The carbon-backed seats look amazing and are surprisingly comfortable but the bit you look at – the dash itself – is frankly out of touch. In a car costing well in excess of a quarter of a million quid, the small, stuck-on central display has aged badly, and the centre console looks like someone filled a shotgun with buttons and then just fired it at the dashboard. At this kind of price, we can’t – and shouldn’t – be letting Aston Martin off. Sticking a ‘V12’ badge in the middle of the mess of switches isn’t enough to distract.

Still, nobody is buying this thing for the coherence of the button strategy, except for the one marked ‘start’. That one doesn’t disappoint. Foot on the brake and strong press, and you’ll hear a whirr of priming fuel pumps before the engine fires. It doesn’t bark into life like the V8 cars, but whoops into being with a higher pitch. Only then does it chuff through the exhaust like a drunk lion. This is good. Stab ‘D’ and you’re on the move, eight-speed ZF auto clever and deft enough to trawl without any hiccups, no fuss. A bit of pottering for a while to get used to everything and the first impressions are good.

There are three modes, Sport, Sport+ and Track, and the lower orders are stiff but not uncomfortable. If you look at the specs, it should ride like a marble skateboard; front spring rates are 50 per cent up, rears are 40, there are 13 per cent stiffer top mounts and there’s new bushing and geometry, as well as recalibrated settings for the active dampers and steering to make the car ultra responsive. Open the boot and there’s even a strut brace that looks like a bit of industrial pipe welded between the rear towers. It’s not pretty, but it shows intention. And yet the V12 is capable of normal use without too much effort – it’s not cosseting, but it’s usable. Straight and sighted bit of road, flick between modes, drop two gears via the left-hand paddle and floor it. My face snaps silently through an insane street mime’s entire repertoire of facial expressions: surprise, shock, incredulity and finally straight-up fear.

I forgot that I’d switched off the traction control, and what started as a slither of wheelspin is suddenly a thick, noxious cloud of evaporated Michelin Pilot 4S. There’s power here. Up the speed – traction firmly back on – and there’s that usual Vantage shift as you go faster: what feels dense and a bit heavy leavening as the speed increases, until you’re driving something that feels largely like a different car. It loses perceived mass in direct relation to how hard you press the accelerator. It also has a huge amount of grip if you’re not trying to provoke it, sharp steering helping arc the car anywhere you want it. But it’s tough to get the car to stick to a line if there are any bumps anywhere in the vicinity – even in the softest damper setting, the car will skip, flaring the rear tyres and making you work for every inch. The V12 doesn’t rev like a chainsaw, it takes some time to build and lose its internal momentum, gathers its power and turbo torque in a measured way. Once it gets going, it is palpably immense. But it doesn’t like losing revs: break traction and you can’t just snap the throttle shut to mitigate the excess, because the engine doesn’t react like a switch. That makes this car better at big bends lived on the edge of grip, rather than the short, sharp shocks of your typical B-road.

After a few hours of driving on various kinds of roads, that gets a bit frustrating. Bluntly and counterintuitively, even though the V12 is properly travelling, it doesn’t feel that fast compared with some of its contemporaries. The way the V12 makes power is a wave, an open-handed slap of silken revs that builds as it nears the redline. But the car is a fist of a thing, and feels like it needs something faster revving, punchier, more aggressive. An engine that attacks from the off, rather than delivering with V12 sophistication. The V8 F1 Edition has basically the same performance stats bar a tenth or two of acceleration and 5mph less top end – not enough to make a huge difference in feel – and it feels more insistent and perky, more up for it. As for the noise, it’s really nice, a surging wail that feeds on its own urgency as it gathers, but it won’t make the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention like the un-turbo’d 2009 original. Maybe it loses some vocal range from the muffling effect of the turbos, but it could have been a little bit naughtier.

It loses perceived mass in direct relation to how hard you press the accelerator.

Competition to the surgical Porsche 911 Turbo S? No, not really. The Aston is a theatrical thing, where the Porsche is utterly brilliant, but a bit obsessed with Getting It Done. The Aston flounces about making faintly operatic noises and crowd pleasing, while the Porsche disappears stage left with all the aural excitement of a large dog coughing up a lung. It’s not that the V12 isn’t fast – it is – but it’s a challenging car to drive, and feels much more old school.

The big car/small engine philosophy used to be a bit different, in that the ‘big’ engine generally meant the much more powerful one. An intentional mismatch of muscle to mass. The V12 is the most powerful Vantage still, but it isn’t actually the fiercest. Bluntly, this isn’t the best, most balanced Vantage. Which wouldn’t be a problem, but it’s also not – quite – silly enough, either. It’s a bit of an outlier, boxed in by specificity, bandwidth narrowed. It would shine on big, flowing roads and racetracks where it could swoop around corners carrying ridiculous amounts of speed, the V12 sat tight and bright in its comfort zone. But the UK isn’t the place where you can get the best out of it very often, save making gloriously pointless noises on Kensington High Street. Logic and emotion aren’t always best friends. Sometimes they argue, and something objectively, logically flawed gets punched in the face by something subjectively, weirdly brilliant. But the V12 Vantage doesn’t feel like it offers anything ridiculously singular, and that’s a bit of a shame.

The overkill here is to be celebrated, endorsed and enjoyed, but done so with the acceptance that this is a caricature. And it makes no difference anyway; the 333-car run has already sold out, presumably to people who understand the flaws, but enjoy the fireworks. And like a firework, this is the V12 going out with a bang and then a fade to black – ex-Aston boss Tobias Moers said that this car will be the last of the V12 Vantages as more efficient powertrains enter the Aston Martin portfolio. One last blast for the lucky few then, but you get the feeling that it’s the right decision.

# data.attributes.field_standfirst
This is the end, the last ever Aston Martin Vantage to carry a V12, bringing a unique line of fantastically over-endowed sports cars to a close. Going, going, gone