If you are to understand why Bentleys are as they are today, it is important also to understand how they got that way. It’s a tale now 100 years in the telling, or about a year per 15 words of this story. And as I’ve already wasted three years so far, you’ll forgive me if I skip some of the less important and, frankly, dull bits in the middle – also known as half the history of the company. What you’re looking at here are the bookends: the one you likely recognise is a Bentayga Speed, the latest product off Crewe’s production line, the other a rather older Bentley. The oldest, in fact. It’s called EXP2 – it is the second EXperimental Prototype – and although it wasn’t completed until 1920, it was certainly in build in 1919, the year in which Bentley Motors came into existence. So it’s either 100 years old, or in its 100th year, depending on how you look at it. The first car, EXP1, was tested by this very magazine in 1920 by SCH Davis, who was not only an Autocar staffer but would also go on to win Le Mans for Bentley in 1927 by a margin that still has not been beaten to this day. Sadly, EXP1 was broken up a lifetime ago. EXP2, by contrast, is very much alive and, despite its incalculable value, a car Bentley was happy to hand over to us for the day. We used it as we would any other car, so when we needed shots of the Bentayga taken from a moving platform, EXP2 briefly became the most valuable camera car in existence. An abuse of the privilege of being able to drive such a car? Absolutely not: we treated it exactly how WO Bentley would have wanted. WO is a much misunderstood man. He was a decent driver, good enough to come fourth in one of his own cars in the 1922 Tourist Trophy, but not a great. He was a fairly terrible businessman who lost control of his company less than five years after delivering its first production car. But he was one of the finest engineers this country has ever produced. Long before Bentley Motors, he was designing engines for World War I fighter aircraft that saved an untold number of lives because, unlike many others of that era, a Bentley BR1 or BR2 motor could usually be counted on to keep working. In the engines he designed for Bentleys, he pioneered the use of aluminium pistons, and fitted them all with overhead camshafts, four valves per cylinder and twin-spark ignition. So if you think they sound like reasonably modern innovations in the road car arena, be advised WO was doing it all a century ago. Yet – and this is where people get him wrong – the pursuit of ultimate performance was never his aim. His vision, stated unambiguously and in his own words, was for “a good car, a fast car, the best in its class”. Refinement was just as important to WO as power, which is why he rejected the efficient twin overhead camshaft layout because at the time it could not be made quiet enough. His desire to make the best possible car he could is what prompted none other than Ettore Bugatti to call them “the fastest lorries in the world”. Even though his cars won Le Mans five times in seven years between 1924 and 1930, it was quality he sought most. In an era when normal cars were rickety, inexactly constructed and often highly unreliable jalopies, Bentley built cars that would travel tens of thousands of miles without so much as blowing a bulb. The strip-down report on one of the Le Mans-winning engines read, in its entirety, ‘nothing to report’. You can see the philosophy in EXP2. It is so primitive in so many ways, from its beaded-edge tyres and brakeless front axle to its centre throttle and resolutely synchro-free gearbox. But its 3.0-litre four-cylinder motor starts instantly and settles down to an idle so even, you feel it would burble away quite happily to itself until the tank ran dry. In fact it wouldn’t, but only because you have to pump the fuel from tank to engine by hand every few minutes. It’s a beautiful and brilliant thing to drive. I doubt it has much more than 75bhp, but it also only weighs 658kg – about the same as a fully trimmed Caterham – so it goes way, way better than you expect. You travel from place to place at the same speed as everyone else, and while its 80mph top speed sounds distinctly modest by today’s measures, in 1919 it would have been easily twice that of the average car of the era. This was the Bugatti Chiron of its day. So I understand the temptation of looking at the imposing bulk of the Bentayga and wondering what happened. But the truth is that in many ways it’s not the modern car that’s the exception to the Bentley rule, but the old one. EXP2 was built as a test-bed prototype, hence its beautiful but rather flimsy and impractical super-lightweight body. As Bentley got into its stride during the 1920s, its cars got bigger and heavier: four years after the 3 Litre was introduced, Bentley was making 6.5-litre engines, which were eventually expanded to 8.0 litres and were often found in cars carrying vast
Origin: Bentley centenary: 2019 Bentayga Speed meets 1919 EXP2
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Chevrolet Corvette: iconic sports car meets Britain’s country lanes
This is going to be a most pleasant day. I have been tasked with the challenge of driving from the Brooklands motor museum in Weybridge to Brighton without using a motorway and preferably not using a dual carriageway. “Is it still possible,” asked the editor, “to enjoy driving on Britain’s congested roads?” It most certainly is. A couple of weeks ago, I joined some friends on a navigational rally around the Surrey hills followed by a pleasant lunch. It helped that I was driving an Alpine A110, but it would have been a wonderful day out in a Morris Minor. It’s going to help a great deal that today we are driving a brand new Corvette Grand Sport. The car has been loaned by Ian Allan Motors of Virginia Water who, as you have probably seen from their advertisements in the print version of Autocar, are the sole UK supplier of Corvettes and Camaros. More to the point, the Corvette is about to be replaced by a new mid-engined C8 model and only a handful of EU type-approved cars are left. Allan has taken the immensely bold step of buying up 60 Corvettes and Camaros so that UK enthusiasts won’t go short. Including, on a temporary basis at least, this one. So let’s get cracking. Lovely weather but a few showers forecasted. Kevin Hurl at Ian Allan Motors had a red Grand Sport coupé lined up for us but someone bought it last week so he’s registered another Grand Sport from his secret stash. It’s red, it’s automatic and it’s a convertible. And he doesn’t want it back for several days. Goodwin is in his element. Not only did I grow up in Surrey but I was a motorbike courier based in Guildford for a year, so the Brooklands to Brighton route is right in my manor. I’m certainly not going to mess about with the car’s sat-nav and I probably won’t bother with the paper map that I’ve brought along. Our managing editor, Damien Smith, told me about a trip he’d done from Surrey to Williams’ headquarters near Wantage that inspired this feature. “I only,” he boasted proudly, “used a very short bit of dual carriageway.” I shall do better than that. I’m determined to not use an inch. By the time we’ve collected the Corvette and got to Brooklands, we are in the middle of what I call ‘the 10 o’clock sweet spot’. Van drivers are still loading up and mummies have dropped the kids off at school and have now put the X5 away and decamped to the coffee shop. And if you think I’m being sexist, come to Weybridge. The Corvette Grand Sport is wide, but the standard Stingray is actually two inches narrower than a Jaguar F-Type. Unlike the C6 model that we ran for one long-term test many years ago, it has straight edges on the top of its front wings so that it’s not too difficult to place on the road. Just as well because my route has taken us directly to some very narrow roads. We’ve crossed the A3 at Cobham and have run virtually parallel to it through the village of Ockham and then past the old Tyrrell Formula 1 factory. It’s now the home of an Italian cake decorations company. The buildings are as they were and even the old woodshed where Ken started it all is kept in perfect condition. Hard to imagine that a world championship-winning team was run from this small yard. Past another local motoring landmark, Bell Colvill, the Lotus dealers in East Horsley. Bobby Bell and Martin Colvill often used to have one of their classics in the showroom – a GT40 or BRM P160, perhaps – so this is another one of my regular haunts. I also went for a job in their service department in the 1980s but fortunately didn’t get it. We’re now on the route of the Olympic cycling road race and it’s surprising that we’re not surrounded by retired men in Lycra. You get a view right across to London from the high ground up here, including the Shard. The entry-level Corvette is the Stingray, and like this Grand Sport it’s powered by a naturally aspirated version of the classic Chevrolet small-block pushrod V8 that produces 466bhp. The most powerful ’Vette is the Z06, which uses a 659bhp supercharged version of the same engine. More money, more weight and a few tenths knocked off the 0-60mph time, with a top speed of 193mph against our car’s 180mph. All meaningless figures. What matters is the emotional appeal of cars like this and the sense of occasion. We’re now in the chocolate-box village of Shere, busy as usual with ramblers. A pub called The William Bray has the builders in and here we have another connection with Tyrrell: the landlord used to be ex-Tyrrell driver Julian Bailey. I once saw a band play here that had Eddie Jordan on the drums. We’re on single-track lanes here, cut into the Surrey hills with steep banks and passing places. In a big car like the Corvette, you simply have to think ahead and be relaxed, happy to give way. I had a massive moment on these roads in a Beetle when I was a teenager. The brakes went and I had to use the handbrake and bounce the car off the earth embankments to try to slow it down. Past
Origin: Chevrolet Corvette: iconic sports car meets Britain’s country lanes
Clash of the coupes: Toyota Supra meets BMW M2 Competition and Porsche 718 Cayman
This is it – this is the big one. The test that’s been seven years in the making, during which we’ve endured all the teaser images, the grainy spy shots, the carefully managed prototype drives, the international launch and then brief blasts in the UK. But now, finally, the Toyota Supra is out in the wild, free of its minders and ready to do battle. Those early outings hinted at a car that had the potential to be the real deal, but we needed more than a few miles on a carefully choreographed route to deliver the definitive verdict on one of Toyota’s most eagerly awaited offerings in years, especially one that has painted big red targets on the back of some of the biggest hitters in the sports car firmament. Of course, the Supra’s arrival hasn’t been without controversy, its relationship to its dizygotic BMW Z4 twin proving more obvious (on the inside, at least) than many had hoped. Yet while Bavaria provides the 335bhp turbo straight six, eight-speed ZF automatic transmission and electronic slippy diff, plus the electrical architecture and switchgear, Toyota claims the Supra’s wide track and short wheelbase – the perfect combination for the intended acrobatic agility – are Japanese to its steel and aluminium core. So how serious a sports car is the Supra? Well, there’s only one way to find out, which is why we’ve headed for some of South Wales’ most testing Tarmac in close convoy with a pair of formidable foes. Looming largest in the Toyota’s sights is the Porsche 718 Cayman. In freshly released T form tested here, it’s currently the purest and most driver-focused version of Stuttgart’s starter sports car, featuring a 20mm lower ride, a torque vectoring differential and a small reduction in weight – surely not all of it courtesy of the looped fabric door handles. Yes, its mid-engined layout is at odds with the Toyota’s more traditional take on arranging the mechanical masses, but the Cayman is the car that chief engineer Tetsuya Tada has consistently identified as the benchmark for his baby. With 296bhp from its 2.0-litre flat four, the Cayman is the most weak-kneed here, but also the lightest at 1350kg. Furthermore, it’s got a snappy six-speed manual (a seven-speed PDK is an option) – the Supra is self-shifting only. The BMW M2 Competition is more small sports saloon than true coupé but, as a beefy front-engined rear driver, it’s not only one of our favourite proponents of the Système Panhard, it’s ideologically (as well as genetically) closely linked to the Supra. Moreover, the 404bhp M2 has by far the greatest amount of firepower here. Like the Porsche, you can have a three-pedal version but, to complete our trio of different transmission options, we’ve gone for the seven-speed dual-clutch option. Despite their wildly divergent approaches, they all have a common goal, which is to get drivers’ synapses sparking and senses tingling by dishing up gobfuls of driver fun. The fact that they’re all around the 50-grand mark doesn’t hurt either. This is going to be close. Styling is clearly subjective, but to our eyes the Supra draws first blood. It’s not just the car’s newness that attracts attention and multiple thumbs up wherever we go, it’s the eye-catching mix of confident curves, creative creases and daring lines. It’s fussy in parts and the fake vents in the bonnet and doors are tacky, but overall it’s a corker. Even in its retina-burning Miami Blue paint job (that’ll be £1658 to you, sir) with natty Cayman T stripes along the bottom of the doors, the Porsche fades into the background when sat next to the Supra. And while the M2’s wide-arched, thuggish stance isn’t without appeal, the bluff three-box BMW lacks the sleek sophistication of the other two. Swing open the Toyota’s long door and duck inside (watch your head on the low roof), and you’re instantly in sports car territory. The letterbox view ahead and compromised rear vision are at odds with the panoramic Porsche and slightly sit-up-and-beg BMW, but you’re snug and low in the Toyota, ensconced by the tall transmission tunnel on one side and high window line on the other. Like the Cayman, the recumbent driving position is spot on; you’re equally comfortable in the BMW but, after a stint in either of the other two, you feel like you’re sitting on the car rather than in it. At first, the Toyota’s BMW-sourced switchgear is a little jarring, yet these components are so well integrated and handily sited, you quickly forget about where they come from. What’s more, anyone who’s grappled with the Japanese brand’s truculent Touch 2 infotainment will be overjoyed at having a reskinned version of BMW’s more intuitive iDrive. More to the point, the German extras add a sheen of class to the interior, allowing it to almost match the exquisitely executed Porsche for upper-class ambience. Like the Cayman, it’s decently practical, too. There are numerous cupholders, a large glovebox, handy door bins and a 290-litre boot
Origin: Clash of the coupes: Toyota Supra meets BMW M2 Competition and Porsche 718 Cayman
The Wolf of Wolfsburg: Autocar meets VW boss Herbert Diess
Herbert Diess breaks the rules. We’re about to spend 60 minutes of his valuable time talking in his office – the hour has been strictly agreed with his minders – and given the exactness of the interval, plus the implied challenges and strictures of his massive job as head of the Volkswagen Group, I’m expecting him to be a serious, driven, time-poor and somewhat humourless individual. His predecessor, Matthias Mueller, nice guy though he was, was rather like that. So it’s quite a surprise to find that within a couple of minutes, Diess and I are chatting cheerily about the plus points of the classic Triumph TR6, a car he says he owned, loved and sold for too little money. He also had several Minis and Beetles and still has a small collection of “non-group cars I don’t talk about” that just happens to include a Land Rover Defender. Within seconds, I’ve gleaned that Diess is a proper car enthusiast. In a mind-flash I remember him from his four “very happy” years at Rover (1999 to 2003) where he was instrumental in launching the new Mini. We are going to be okay. We’ve been trying to organise this interview for a year, not least because Diess – who moved from BMW in 2015 to run VW just before its troubles became public – won one of our 2018 awards for brilliantly progressing a marque hamstrung by Dieselgate so that it hardly lost sales or market position. His non-arrival at last year’s awards event and limited availability since is the result of his rapid promotion to VW’s biggest job. Diess works in a comfortable but unostentatious suite of offices atop a monolithic building in Wolfsburg, looking out on one of the world’s largest car-building operations. He is a slightly built man of 60 whose frame betrays no evidence of self-indulgence. I’d put him down as a golfer or tennis player, if he ever gets time. He smiles easily, speaks perfect colloquial English and has an Anglo-Saxon liking for conversational informality. I’ve heard a lot about Diess’s reputation for decisiveness, so I ask about a meeting early in his VW time for which he’s famous, just after the diesel thing broke. At this gathering, a plan for the bold, electric-specific MEB platform, which now looks ever more likely to win VW a large global advantage in electrification, was raised, discussed, formulated and agreed. “It was soon after I arrived, about a fortnight after diesel happened,” he says. “I called the team together for a two-day workshop and together we created the MEB toolkit. “We were in a very specific situation. We were strong in China and China is huge in electric cars. It seemed possible for us to be the first major company to create a specific electric architecture and use it across all our marques. Most people were using existing platforms for their electric cars because that needed less investment. It was a chance to overtake others.” Despite the strength of this idea, Diess refuses to talk up its prospects because it has yet to deliver. “We hope it will work,” he says. “At present, we are still selling electrified models based on our MQB platform, but from next year, we may have an advantage.” Future winning designs will have what Diess calls “chocolate bar” chassis, known to others as ‘skateboards’ – with flat floors, long wheelbases and plenty of unimpeded space for batteries between the axles. Ride heights will lift cars by 100mm to 150mm, he says, although engineers at Porsche and Audi are already at work cutting that down. Despite the reality of higher-riding cars, Diess believes classic ‘tall’ SUVs won’t necessarily maintain popularity. Taming aerodynamic drag is becoming vital to preserve battery range. It’s one reason, Diess believes, why Tesla hasn’t sold nearly as many Model X SUVs as other models. What’s the shape of the future, I ask. Will electrified and conventional cars just fight it out? Will car makers try to force the market? There’ll be no forcing, Diess insists. Progress will be variable and depend heavily on government incentives. “Tesla couldn’t have made its way without the $7500-a-car US government incentive,” says Diess, “or in Norway without their tax credits. But ultimately, the company that can make electric cars with positive margins will win. That’s where I think we have some chances…” Talking future sales, Diess estimates that by 2021, between 5% and 6% of new European cars will be electric. That should expand to 20% by 2025, and between 30% and 40% by 2030. It’s an enormous change. How does it feel, I ask, knowing you’ll soon be shutting engine plants forever? “It’s true that in the next 10 years, we’re going to need to close about half our engine and gearbox plants,” he says, “but we’ll ramp up battery production enormously to compensate. We believe we’re covered for battery cell production until 2023 or 2024, but we will still need more capacity. That’s the big challenge. We have just launched the Audi E-tron and the constraint on delivery is the
Origin: The Wolf of Wolfsburg: Autocar meets VW boss Herbert Diess
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