Words by: DUNCAN QUINN
Cocktails in a tiki bar in the desert with ossified puffer fish for lampshades.
Thumping tunes by a pool full of hipsters with sleeves of tattoos, beards and Peaky Blinders hair cuts. Heavy pours and frozen cocktails that can make your toes curl and your brain freeze.
It was supposed to be ACE but for a second I thought I’d pulled a wrong move tipping up here in a Bentley GT Speed Convertible.
Until the guy in the Phantom arrived and parked next to me. Haha. His was black. And mine was Sunburst Gold. Built like Mike Tyson. With the grace of a statesman. A turn of speed capable of leaving most of Modena eating a cloud of Pirelli P Zero. And accommodations befitting of the finest Relais & Château.
A Connolly leather clad suite fit for the Cannonball Run. Or at least the blast up through the twisties from Hollywood to Idyllwild.
A little tweak of a button to firm up the suspension a few notches into “Sport”, an extra click of the shifter to do the same, and suddenly the magic carpet becomes a missile. Point it where you want it to go and be amazed that something so seemingly big and heavy can move so deftly and so damned fast. 628 bhp and 607 torques (as Clarkson would say) will do that. Along with a beautiful, rumbling cacophony as the W12 spools up from a low pitched growl to a full bore trumpeting Spitfire of a blast. Round about when your corneas hit the back of your skull in a blaze of stars on your way to hyperspace. Needless to say it was an enjoyable weekend. And put into stark contrast when compared and contrasted with my other mode of transport for the weekend: A one DQ Power bicycle… fueled by cocktails, burgundy and steak…
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