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Aston Martin DB12 - long-term review - Report No:7

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Aston Martin DB12 - long-term review - Report No:7 | Top Gear

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It's been an emotional rollercoaster with the DB12. So, what have we learned from six months living with, er, two Aston Martins?

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Aston Martin DB12 - long-term review - Report No:7

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It's been an emotional rollercoaster with the DB12. So, what have we learned from six months living with, er, two Aston Martins?

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
It's been an emotional rollercoaster with the DB12. So, what have we learned from six months living with, er, two Aston Martins?

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Aston Martin DB12 - long-term review - Report No:7

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You may have noticed that, for our final report, our long-term DB12 has not only changed colour but also had what can only be described as “a significant haircut”. That’s because our green hard top recently had a mechanical tantrum on the M1, so has gone home early with just over 6,000 miles on the clock.

So what happened? Well, on what should’ve been a very DB12-friendly long-legged jaunt up to Northumberland for the weekend, I was left limping to a lay-by with the sort of quiet shame normally reserved for James Bond soiling his tuxedo. I was there, hazards on, door open, climbing in and out trying to reboot the car’s brain by turning it off, locking it, counting ten Mississippis and getting back in again. My mate in the passenger seat found this all predictably hilarious. “Two hundred and forty grand and it can’t get to Newcastle without breaking down?” he offered, wiping away tears.

And this isn’t its first fault. Over the last few months, the DB12’s dash has occasionally lit up, randomly flashing TC faults, diff faults, gearbox warnings and sensor errors. They’d all vanish after a brief lie down and restart, but this one was different. The engine cut all power in the outside lane – the worst lane to cut all power – and then refused to do more than 14mph, as if it were sulking. It did this three times. Then stopped. Then did it again. Once I made it home, it was carted off to Aston Martin HQ, where they discovered an intermittent fault in the throttle body connector, causing a bank imbalance. Hence the sensation of feeling like a misfire at times, but also why it cut everything on the motorway and went into foetus-position safety limp-home mode. Which is ironic, as the Mercedes engines were meant to be the reliable part of the contra-deal.

One upside of the spluttery engine is that Aston sent a replacement, drop-top DB12 to see out the rest of our loan… just as the UK was stepping into a heatwave – every cloud and all that.

And doesn’t it look excellent? Nothing quite says ultra-luxury like an open-air land yacht. Especially when it’s not a cab, or a Spider, but a… Volante. Say it with me. Vo-lan-teh. It sounds like it costs money. And it does. £20k more than a standard DB12 before you add any options. So most you see on the street are probably not shy of a quarter of a million quid.

The Volante keeps to Aston’s simple recipe: proper fabric roofs and big engines. They thankfully never went for a folding hard top when they were the fashion, as they’d definitely have leaked. The DB12 coupé’s sweeping metal roof is replaced with an eight-layer soft top, available in four colours, which can retract in 16 seconds at speeds of up to 31mph. I once had dinner with the very brainy man who engineered the Boxster RS Spyder’s tonneau roof, and since hearing the amount of engineering that’s needed to make a soft top work, I’ve been fascinated. And this Aston is no less mesmerising.

Watching the Volante’s boot deck lift up like something from Tracey Island for the whole thing to unlatch, untension and concertina back is fantastic. And driving with the roof up you could mistake it for a hard top – there’s no additional whistling or noise. It’s a masterpiece. And as much as I loved the panoramic sunroof (a spenny but must-have DB12 option), nothing quite beats opening the tin and having the roof off. It’s the difference between seeing some fishes in a walk-through aquarium and free-diving with them. And the DB12 is all about quality experiences – having your senses engage with the outside world and wondering if that smell was a dead badger or a wood-fired pizza you just passed.

Thanks to the spring drought I spent pretty much all the time I had with the Volante with the roof down. Which brought its own peculiar joys. First, you have to have slightly thicker skin than a hard top opener, as you can now hear the British public’s opinion of you in Dolby Atmos. Which is mostly: “Flash tw*t!” But clearer. Also, the 10.25in infotainment screen becomes completely unreadable in bright sunshine. Which would have been passable back in the day, but now you need to go into it to stop all the speed warning bings and lane warning bongs. So you fumble, squint, and press random things until the bongs stop.

The best way to enjoy a Volante, I decided, was the best way to enjoy any proper GT car in this country: leave London for Cornwall after work, just because the weather’s good. Because, frankly, why not?

Now, the boot space in the DB12 was never generous, but the Volante loses another 56 litres when the roof’s up, and 93 when it’s down. That leaves you with 169 litres. So it’s squishy bags only. And the rear seats remain ornamental, so I filled the void with something that shares the shape, weight and general demeanour of a toddler, just with no legs: a Joe Jnr Kamado Joe barbecue. Then I put a little hat on its head in the shape of the flimsy plastic but foldable wind deflector, which doesn’t feel sturdy but does a remarkable job at cutting all buffeting out while cruising at ‘get out of my way I’m on a mission’ speeds down the M4 and M5 to the West Country.

But once you hit Cornwall, where the roads narrow, hedges grow taller and the locals drive like their brakes were repossessed, you begin to feel the age-old convertible compromise – that subtle scuttle shake. Especially over Cornwall’s rural furniture like cattle grids. Aston has stiffened the chassis, added a cross brace, and generally done its best, but nothing beats a roof when it comes to structural rigidity. Still, you drive the Volante differently – more flow, more poise. It’s not noticeably slower, despite the 111kg weight penalty. The 4.0-litre twin-turbo V8 still gets you to 60mph in 3.6 seconds and will keep going to the double ton. Which is flipping fast.

The noise coming out of the back end is still muffled by turbos and European legislation – it doesn’t have the excitement or charisma of the old V12s – but what you’ve lost in noise you’ve made up for in quality, inside and out. And this particular car compared to our coupé has added solidity to it and the same handmade finish. And not the rattly rear speaker that drove me insane by making podcasts redundant – like they were being fed through one of those kids’ microphones with a coil spring in them.

Arriving with the golden sun setting on Polzeath Beach, the DB12 really did look superb. Compared to its competitors – the Bentley Continental GTC, Ferrari Roma Spider and Mercedes-AMG SL – it’s prettier, more thoughtful and purposeful in its design, and has more sense of occasion; more confidence in the role it’s trying to play as a sports tourer.

Six months with DB12(s) has been a proper privilege. It feels like I’ve experienced a brand that’s really started to find its feet. The DB12 gets the best of both worlds – the GT and the sporting. It could be more practical, but as something to sit in every day, to soak up the stitching, to smell the leather and have those flying wings in front of you… it never gets old. And with statements like getting Apple CarPlay Ultra first, it shows Aston is on the front foot – and compared to the DB11, you can see the massive improvements in the ’12 already. Let’s just hope – whisper it – they’re reliable.

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You may have noticed that, for our final report, our long-term DB12 has not only changed colour but also had what can only be described as “a significant haircut”. That’s because our green hard top recently had a mechanical tantrum on the M1, so has gone home early with just over 6,000 miles on the clock.

So what happened? Well, on what should’ve been a very DB12-friendly long-legged jaunt up to Northumberland for the weekend, I was left limping to a lay-by with the sort of quiet shame normally reserved for James Bond soiling his tuxedo. I was there, hazards on, door open, climbing in and out trying to reboot the car’s brain by turning it off, locking it, counting ten Mississippis and getting back in again. My mate in the passenger seat found this all predictably hilarious. “Two hundred and forty grand and it can’t get to Newcastle without breaking down?” he offered, wiping away tears.

And this isn’t its first fault. Over the last few months, the DB12’s dash has occasionally lit up, randomly flashing TC faults, diff faults, gearbox warnings and sensor errors. They’d all vanish after a brief lie down and restart, but this one was different. The engine cut all power in the outside lane – the worst lane to cut all power – and then refused to do more than 14mph, as if it were sulking. It did this three times. Then stopped. Then did it again. Once I made it home, it was carted off to Aston Martin HQ, where they discovered an intermittent fault in the throttle body connector, causing a bank imbalance. Hence the sensation of feeling like a misfire at times, but also why it cut everything on the motorway and went into foetus-position safety limp-home mode. Which is ironic, as the Mercedes engines were meant to be the reliable part of the contra-deal.

One upside of the spluttery engine is that Aston sent a replacement, drop-top DB12 to see out the rest of our loan… just as the UK was stepping into a heatwave – every cloud and all that.

And doesn’t it look excellent? Nothing quite says ultra-luxury like an open-air land yacht. Especially when it’s not a cab, or a Spider, but a… Volante. Say it with me. Vo-lan-teh. It sounds like it costs money. And it does. £20k more than a standard DB12 before you add any options. So most you see on the street are probably not shy of a quarter of a million quid.

The Volante keeps to Aston’s simple recipe: proper fabric roofs and big engines. They thankfully never went for a folding hard top when they were the fashion, as they’d definitely have leaked. The DB12 coupé’s sweeping metal roof is replaced with an eight-layer soft top, available in four colours, which can retract in 16 seconds at speeds of up to 31mph. I once had dinner with the very brainy man who engineered the Boxster RS Spyder’s tonneau roof, and since hearing the amount of engineering that’s needed to make a soft top work, I’ve been fascinated. And this Aston is no less mesmerising.

Watching the Volante’s boot deck lift up like something from Tracey Island for the whole thing to unlatch, untension and concertina back is fantastic. And driving with the roof up you could mistake it for a hard top – there’s no additional whistling or noise. It’s a masterpiece. And as much as I loved the panoramic sunroof (a spenny but must-have DB12 option), nothing quite beats opening the tin and having the roof off. It’s the difference between seeing some fishes in a walk-through aquarium and free-diving with them. And the DB12 is all about quality experiences – having your senses engage with the outside world and wondering if that smell was a dead badger or a wood-fired pizza you just passed.

Thanks to the spring drought I spent pretty much all the time I had with the Volante with the roof down. Which brought its own peculiar joys. First, you have to have slightly thicker skin than a hard top opener, as you can now hear the British public’s opinion of you in Dolby Atmos. Which is mostly: “Flash tw*t!” But clearer. Also, the 10.25in infotainment screen becomes completely unreadable in bright sunshine. Which would have been passable back in the day, but now you need to go into it to stop all the speed warning bings and lane warning bongs. So you fumble, squint, and press random things until the bongs stop.

The best way to enjoy a Volante, I decided, was the best way to enjoy any proper GT car in this country: leave London for Cornwall after work, just because the weather’s good. Because, frankly, why not?

Now, the boot space in the DB12 was never generous, but the Volante loses another 56 litres when the roof’s up, and 93 when it’s down. That leaves you with 169 litres. So it’s squishy bags only. And the rear seats remain ornamental, so I filled the void with something that shares the shape, weight and general demeanour of a toddler, just with no legs: a Joe Jnr Kamado Joe barbecue. Then I put a little hat on its head in the shape of the flimsy plastic but foldable wind deflector, which doesn’t feel sturdy but does a remarkable job at cutting all buffeting out while cruising at ‘get out of my way I’m on a mission’ speeds down the M4 and M5 to the West Country.

But once you hit Cornwall, where the roads narrow, hedges grow taller and the locals drive like their brakes were repossessed, you begin to feel the age-old convertible compromise – that subtle scuttle shake. Especially over Cornwall’s rural furniture like cattle grids. Aston has stiffened the chassis, added a cross brace, and generally done its best, but nothing beats a roof when it comes to structural rigidity. Still, you drive the Volante differently – more flow, more poise. It’s not noticeably slower, despite the 111kg weight penalty. The 4.0-litre twin-turbo V8 still gets you to 60mph in 3.6 seconds and will keep going to the double ton. Which is flipping fast.

The noise coming out of the back end is still muffled by turbos and European legislation – it doesn’t have the excitement or charisma of the old V12s – but what you’ve lost in noise you’ve made up for in quality, inside and out. And this particular car compared to our coupé has added solidity to it and the same handmade finish. And not the rattly rear speaker that drove me insane by making podcasts redundant – like they were being fed through one of those kids’ microphones with a coil spring in them.

Arriving with the golden sun setting on Polzeath Beach, the DB12 really did look superb. Compared to its competitors – the Bentley Continental GTC, Ferrari Roma Spider and Mercedes-AMG SL – it’s prettier, more thoughtful and purposeful in its design, and has more sense of occasion; more confidence in the role it’s trying to play as a sports tourer.

Six months with DB12(s) has been a proper privilege. It feels like I’ve experienced a brand that’s really started to find its feet. The DB12 gets the best of both worlds – the GT and the sporting. It could be more practical, but as something to sit in every day, to soak up the stitching, to smell the leather and have those flying wings in front of you… it never gets old. And with statements like getting Apple CarPlay Ultra first, it shows Aston is on the front foot – and compared to the DB11, you can see the massive improvements in the ’12 already. Let’s just hope – whisper it – they’re reliable.

# data.attributes.field_car_headline
Goodbye, Aston Martin DB12: the Coupe broke down, so we swapped it for a Volante

# data.attributes.field_car_teaser_description
It's been an emotional rollercoaster with the DB12. So, what have we learned from six months living with, er, two Aston Martins?

# data.attributes.field_sub_title
Goodbye, Aston Martin DB12: the Coupe broke down, so we swapped it for a Volante

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Usage and meaning of the 'virtual' resource identifier.