Popping a V8 cherry

As a grown up adult woman it’s not often that you get to experience the spellbound captivated innocence and eye glazingly magical awestruck sparkle you have as a child. At the age of knowing most things deemed magical are a charade, and that it takes umpteen attempts to get lines in your favourite sitcom just right; it takes something very special to get Muppet grinning incessantly.

And so I have overindulged in the very best way I know how. I feel exceptionally spoiled. And, before you draw any conclusions, it did not involve chocolate, beer, or shopping, but more specifically the most wonderfully exquisite motorcar I have ever had the pleasure of encountering. It had been the sort of day when a girl like me requires several changes of underwear.

The Aston Martin V8 Vantage. Britain’s first bona fide supercar.

I had my rendezvous with Newport Pagnell’s finest on one of my ‘pub club’, Sunday car rallies. Along with a couple of friends, who between them own an impressive selection of lovely motors, we take our cars on an impromptu Sunday gallop to some wonderful country pub that the Good Pub Guide has flopped open at and with a vague idea of its location, have a hearty lunch, some quality conversation with more than little petrolhead hedonism and spend some quality time with our nuts and bolts.

I had been anticipating pub clubs’ recent jaunt for a good few weeks, revelling in the knowledge that my learned friend was bringing his 1980’s Vantage. We had set up meetings before but with Muppet being a tad eccentric, I had never as yet been able to attend. On arrival for the obligatory pre-expedition bacon sarnies, I first caught sight of the Vantage. Waiting patiently by the side of the busy West London street, gaining admiring glances from almost all who wandered by. It really dwarfed my little Spider.

Want to go out and play?

The Vantage to me has always been truly beautiful and my favourite Aston Martin. The V8 Vantage debuted in February 1977 (as did I in November of the same year). It was produced as a stand alone model (rather than being an Aston with a tweaked engine or a ‘vantage spec’ which was an optional extra privilege). The Vantage’s four twin-choked Weber carburetted V8 engine unit's power output was increased to 380bhp, the radiator grill was blanked off in favour of a vast air intake which forced air very efficiently upwards from underneath the front bumper, the suspension was upgraded and looks wise the Vantage was given a small rear ‘flipped up’ tail and distinctive bonnet aerodynamics.

In 1986, the Vantage was treated to the ‘X pack’ engine that had been produced for the Zagato. With 435bhp, speeds in excess of 170mph and a 0-60 time of 5.2 secs, the Vantage was indeed a Super Car force to be reckoned with in it’s day.

The patient perfect English gentleman

And for me, it was the latter X-pack treatment that graced my friends’ car. Not only did the car please me aesthetically, but the cabin evoked the senses, a glorious leathery aroma, wood veneer, sofa comfy seats, a shagpile carpet and everything in its place – even just sat in the passenger seat, engine turned off, this car felt special.

You can almost hear the engine

With the ignition on however, the sound from that engine and straight-through exhaust must’ve made the neighbours think Thor was having a bad hair day. This car even sounds like it should, the engine note reverberates from your feet to your head with a wonderful growling sensation resonating in your chest.

There is so much power – the torque in this car is astonishing, you barely make it up the gearbox, not that you need to. Barrelling along the country lanes the acceleration just keeps on going, it’s almost limitless. I’ve been in powerful cars before but this was like being rammed by rhino at full pelt, it’s a sledgehammer of a car. Driving behind in convoy with my little Spider I could still feel the vibrations, and felt slightly light-headed and giddy from the exhaust, or was that my infatuation?

But lo, this car is a schizophrenic, because when you ease off the throttle the Vantage becomes a well mannered gentleman, you could almost imagine your granny popping down the shops in one, if she could see over the expanse of bonnet.

I had always loved this car, but this was my first proper taste of a Vantage and it was every bit what I imagined and then some. I was like the little girl given the keys to her own sweet shop. I want one – badly, or I'd settle for a husband with one, I'm not fussy, as I could drive around in that car forever more, and it proved to me that I am indeed a full on British Aston girl at heart .

There is such a thing as a dream come true