Rolls-Royce Wraith - Review
The Clarkson Review: From A to bliss in the Rolls flotation tank.
I was pounced on by a gay man in a restaurant lavatory last night. He said his friend didn’t know which to buy, a Porsche 911 or a Jaguar F-type. Ordinarily, I would have fixed him with a steely-eyed stare and explained that I didn’t come to him for free advice on what sort of sunglasses are in this season, so why should he come to me for free advice on cars?
Instead, however, I decided to bore him to death, so I went into a lengthy spiel about how the GTS is probably the best of the standard Porsche 911s but the GT3 variants, and in particular the GT3 RS, are outstanding. I then took a perch on the sink as I explained in great detail that the F-type convertible is better-looking than the coupé and that the V6 S is by far the best bet when it comes to a combination of power, noise and handling...
That’s then, however, and this is now, and we are talking this morning about the Rolls-Royce Wraith. No one is going to accost me in a lavatory and ask if they should buy one of those, or a Bentley instead, because that’d be like asking if you should buy an ice cream or a shotgun. The two things are very different.
Rolls-Royce may say that the Wraith is tuned with the driver in mind, but I think we are talking here about degrees. It’s like saying that God tuned Mars to be more hospitable than Venus. You’re not going to have much fun on either, if we’re honest.
A friend of mine visited Los Angeles last month, and, because he is important, his hosts sent a chauffeured Wraith to pick him up from the airport. He was invited, as you’d expect, to sit in the back for the drive into town, but as the Wraith is a two-door coupé with limited rear space, he felt extremely silly.
And that raises a question. If the Wraith isn’t really tuned for driving pleasure and it doesn’t work as a limo, then what’s the point?
No amount of pressing or holding the remote button caused it to budge. Neither did any amount of rummaging around in the grime to try to locate an actual catch; nor did the remote switch in the cabin. It was locked shut. Dinner was due to start in 15 minutes. I was one of only two untitled people present. And I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt.
Eventually, after I’d been through the handbook, which is available on the sat nav screen, I discovered that if you disassemble the remote control locking device there’s a key inside that can be used to open the boot in the old-fashioned way. So I did that and made it to dinner properly dressed — in time to hear someone say: “Whose is that vulgar car outside?”
So there we are. An unreliable and vulgar car that doesn’t work as a proper Rolls-Royce because it’s been tuned to be as sporty as a 1974 Volvo. Plus it isn’t very good-looking and it’s extremely expensive. They say it costs about £235,000. But by the time you’ve added a bit of garnish, it’ll be a lot more than that. Despite these not insignificant issues, though, I thought it was tremendous.
Underneath, it is fundamentally the same as the four-door Rolls-Royce Ghost, which means that, contrary to what James May told you on The Grand Tour recently, it is fundamentally the same as a BMW 7-series. The two cars have in essence the same platform and the same engine.
However, in the Rolls-Royce there are two bulkheads. This is important. They have not been fitted to improve structural rigidity so as to make the car corner more sweetly, and they certainly haven’t been fitted for lightness. They are there simply to distance the occupants from the noise and the fuss of the engine.
This is the key to the Wraith experience: the sense that you are just sitting there while it moves you about. There’s a faint hum to suggest that explosions are happening under the bonnet, and there’s a rustle of tyre noise. But even when you are travelling at 150mph, that’s about it.
Yes, there are 624 brake horsepowers on tap and, yes, there is roll-cancelling air suspension and a satellite-aided system that reads the road ahead and sets the gearbox up for the coming corner. But you aren’t aware of any of this as you waft along. What you are aware of is the weight. Especially when you are slowing down. You almost can’t believe that a light touch on the brake pedal is all that’s needed to impede the progress of the monster. It feels faintly amusing.
Autocar magazine tells us that if you go into the on-board menu and turn off the traction control, the car will drift nicely. And I’m sure it will, in the same way as you could, if you wanted to, ice-skate in a pair of army boots.
I can’t stress enough, though, that this is not a sports car or a driver’s car in the accepted sense. But it is tremendous to drive because it feels like nothing else. If you didn’t want a chauffeur, for some reason, and you therefore didn’t need a barn-like space in the back — just some lovely wood and soft leather, a few elegant controls and a little peace and quiet on your drive home at night — it’d be fabulous. Completely in a class of its own.
Aston Martins and Bentleys feel like cars. This feels as if you’re in the bath. It’s not for me, obviously; I still like to do the hairy-chested man thing when I’m driving, and I’d much rather have a two-thirds-of-the-price DB11 or Continental GT V8 S.
But that doesn’t mean you would.
Rolls-Royce Wraith
I was pounced on by a gay man in a restaurant lavatory last night. He said his friend didn’t know which to buy, a Porsche 911 or a Jaguar F-type. Ordinarily, I would have fixed him with a steely-eyed stare and explained that I didn’t come to him for free advice on what sort of sunglasses are in this season, so why should he come to me for free advice on cars?
Instead, however, I decided to bore him to death, so I went into a lengthy spiel about how the GTS is probably the best of the standard Porsche 911s but the GT3 variants, and in particular the GT3 RS, are outstanding. I then took a perch on the sink as I explained in great detail that the F-type convertible is better-looking than the coupé and that the V6 S is by far the best bet when it comes to a combination of power, noise and handling...
His eyes began to glaze over at this point, so I put a comforting arm round his shoulders and said: “Look. Your friend. The best thing he can do is buy whichever of the two cars he likes more.”
I mean this. Telling a stranger what car to buy is like telling someone what film to go and see. You can explain that One Woman’s 30-Year Search for Her Hat is a brilliant biopic with a powerful and subtly hidden message, but if the person you are talking to turns out to be a northern bare-knuckle cage fighter, it’s likely he will prefer The Terminator 6.
“Experts” haven’t been useful in the car-buying process since Humber went west, although, with the new pure-electric cars and hybrids coming on stream, that may change in the near future. We are entering a new era, and the ghost of Raymond Baxter may be called upon.
I mean this. Telling a stranger what car to buy is like telling someone what film to go and see. You can explain that One Woman’s 30-Year Search for Her Hat is a brilliant biopic with a powerful and subtly hidden message, but if the person you are talking to turns out to be a northern bare-knuckle cage fighter, it’s likely he will prefer The Terminator 6.
“Experts” haven’t been useful in the car-buying process since Humber went west, although, with the new pure-electric cars and hybrids coming on stream, that may change in the near future. We are entering a new era, and the ghost of Raymond Baxter may be called upon.
That’s then, however, and this is now, and we are talking this morning about the Rolls-Royce Wraith. No one is going to accost me in a lavatory and ask if they should buy one of those, or a Bentley instead, because that’d be like asking if you should buy an ice cream or a shotgun. The two things are very different.
Rolls-Royce may say that the Wraith is tuned with the driver in mind, but I think we are talking here about degrees. It’s like saying that God tuned Mars to be more hospitable than Venus. You’re not going to have much fun on either, if we’re honest.
A friend of mine visited Los Angeles last month, and, because he is important, his hosts sent a chauffeured Wraith to pick him up from the airport. He was invited, as you’d expect, to sit in the back for the drive into town, but as the Wraith is a two-door coupé with limited rear space, he felt extremely silly.
And that raises a question. If the Wraith isn’t really tuned for driving pleasure and it doesn’t work as a limo, then what’s the point?
It’s a question I found myself asking as I arrived at a very beautiful pheasant shoot in the north of England the other day. I had packed , as instructed, a smoking jacket for dinner and various bits of tweed for the next day. I also had my guns, my bullets, my wellies and all the other flotsam and jetsam necessary for wasting a few birds. And the boot lid wouldn’t open.
No amount of pressing or holding the remote button caused it to budge. Neither did any amount of rummaging around in the grime to try to locate an actual catch; nor did the remote switch in the cabin. It was locked shut. Dinner was due to start in 15 minutes. I was one of only two untitled people present. And I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt.
Eventually, after I’d been through the handbook, which is available on the sat nav screen, I discovered that if you disassemble the remote control locking device there’s a key inside that can be used to open the boot in the old-fashioned way. So I did that and made it to dinner properly dressed — in time to hear someone say: “Whose is that vulgar car outside?”
So there we are. An unreliable and vulgar car that doesn’t work as a proper Rolls-Royce because it’s been tuned to be as sporty as a 1974 Volvo. Plus it isn’t very good-looking and it’s extremely expensive. They say it costs about £235,000. But by the time you’ve added a bit of garnish, it’ll be a lot more than that. Despite these not insignificant issues, though, I thought it was tremendous.
Underneath, it is fundamentally the same as the four-door Rolls-Royce Ghost, which means that, contrary to what James May told you on The Grand Tour recently, it is fundamentally the same as a BMW 7-series. The two cars have in essence the same platform and the same engine.
However, in the Rolls-Royce there are two bulkheads. This is important. They have not been fitted to improve structural rigidity so as to make the car corner more sweetly, and they certainly haven’t been fitted for lightness. They are there simply to distance the occupants from the noise and the fuss of the engine.
This is the key to the Wraith experience: the sense that you are just sitting there while it moves you about. There’s a faint hum to suggest that explosions are happening under the bonnet, and there’s a rustle of tyre noise. But even when you are travelling at 150mph, that’s about it.Yes, there are 624 brake horsepowers on tap and, yes, there is roll-cancelling air suspension and a satellite-aided system that reads the road ahead and sets the gearbox up for the coming corner. But you aren’t aware of any of this as you waft along. What you are aware of is the weight. Especially when you are slowing down. You almost can’t believe that a light touch on the brake pedal is all that’s needed to impede the progress of the monster. It feels faintly amusing.
Autocar magazine tells us that if you go into the on-board menu and turn off the traction control, the car will drift nicely. And I’m sure it will, in the same way as you could, if you wanted to, ice-skate in a pair of army boots.
I can’t stress enough, though, that this is not a sports car or a driver’s car in the accepted sense. But it is tremendous to drive because it feels like nothing else. If you didn’t want a chauffeur, for some reason, and you therefore didn’t need a barn-like space in the back — just some lovely wood and soft leather, a few elegant controls and a little peace and quiet on your drive home at night — it’d be fabulous. Completely in a class of its own.
Aston Martins and Bentleys feel like cars. This feels as if you’re in the bath. It’s not for me, obviously; I still like to do the hairy-chested man thing when I’m driving, and I’d much rather have a two-thirds-of-the-price DB11 or Continental GT V8 S.
But that doesn’t mean you would.
Rolls-Royce Wraith OFFICIAL V12 Fastback In Action
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