There's a lot of bare metal in the cabin, so our first winter driving impressions of the DBS Volante (that's drophead to you and me) mainly involve cold hands touching freezing switches and dials and a bone-chilling bare aluminium gear knob. Gloves, anyone?
That said, there are some tactile and visual highlights in the Aston's cabin, albeit not those concerning the Ford Fiesta steering column stalks. It was ever thus for a small car maker, however, and it ill becomes us to sharpen our wit on the need to borrow a big manufacturer's economies of scale for the widgets. After all, McLaren's F1 used Citroën door mirrors and Ferrari has often burrowed through and borrowed from Fiat's parts bins.
The rest of the cabin, though, is a delight of soft claret leather, immaculate stitching, comfortable seats and tiny amounts of luggage room, including those laughably small rear seats, which would struggle to accommodate Barbie and Ken. We were encouraged to sample the acoustic delights of the Bang and Olufsen stereo whose tweeters rise like anti-aircraft batteries from the edges of the dashboard. Would have done, too, had the radio reception been able to hold on to Radio 3 for more than five minutes at a time, and the tyres not been roaring like a pride of lions and battering every motorway expansion joint.
While it is lined, the Edsha-engineered hood keeps little of the noise out, but it is totally automatic, respectably fast in operation and fits like the gloves you should be wearing when it's furled. The optional black Perspex centre console (£973.83) is quite lovely, capturing light and reflecting overhanging trees and clouds like the opening credits of your own road movie.
Which, in a way, it is. You feel like a film star in this car, ostentatious and horribly exposed. There's nowhere to hide. The engine starts with such a roar that everyone starts and then walks over to establish that you aren't a banker and therefore need pelting with lumps of coal. Once that's established they universally display an uncanny amount of knowledge about Britain's joint premier GT maker – the other is Bentley.
Knowledge enough to make the usual journalistic criticisms of Aston Martin, that all its cars look the same, die in your throat. What's more, these likeable plebs seem to know what a tough time Aston has had and are highly sympathetic. Not that it means they're about to start a small boom in Aston sales any time soon, but it's touching all the same.
Then you drive away and the sound of that six-litre V12 blows their minds. Not that it's particularly deafening, but that engine makes a sound like no other. Less arriviste than a V8's bark and wooffle, this Ford-derived mill whirrs and whines, growls like a bear in a pipe and sounds as it feels; as seamless as a worked-out mine, as powerful as the November storms pounding the Cornish coastline.
Delivering 510bhp at 6,500rpm, such is the colossal torque that the engine barely needs working to that extent. Most surprising is its performance up to 3,000rpm, where even in sixth gear a squeeze of the throttle is enough to leave you far from earthly speed limits, on the moon perhaps, or enjoying prison food.
Of course it eats fuel, what did you honestly expect? We got the consumption down to low single figures when pushing hard and near to its 18.2mpg Combined figure on a long, swift run across country.
It's quite a novelty to find a supercar these days without its maker trying to cram some dodgy semi-automatic transmission down your throat. The specially built manual Graziano manual box on the DBS is one of the slickest examples of its type, and the cable shift was set up perfectly, with a reasonably light clutch.
The only problem presented by so much power is manoeuvring it, especially in reverse, when the engine appears to have all the flywheel effect of a spinning sycamore seed. As restarting after a stall is such a palaver, a gently amused crowd will have inevitably formed by the time you've got the thing in the garage.
The ride is compliant and supple, only picking up on the worst road bumps, although the optional 20-inch wheels and tyres (£1,052.55) are noisy in all conditions, occasionally raucous. The handling is affected by the extra 250lb the drophead carries over the coupe – the Volante weighs 1.8 tons. The steering is mysteriously vague on initial turn-in, so you are never absolutely sure how much grip there is until the front wheels are washing out across the road. The all-aluminium body rolls more than the tin-top and, while that is eliminated by tightening the damping to its sport setting, the result is a nervous car in the wet with an irritating, fizzing ride.
Carbon ceramic brakes are getting near to the best in the business, although like all such things, they are initially soft and unreadable approaching lock-up.
No, it probably isn't worth the extra £50,000 it costs over the DB9 Volante, but I looked on MoneySaverSwot.com and found absolutely no mention of thirsty supercars. Besides, if you are James Bond you are issued with one and, if you aren't but can afford the price, then you're unlikely to mind the fuel bills, either.
THE FACTS
Price/availability: £175,681 On sale now
Tested: Aston Martin DBS Volante with 60-degree all-aluminium alloy 5,935cc, petrol V12, with chain-driven DOHC per bank and four valves per cylinder and six-speed Graziano manual gearbox in a transaxle. Rear-wheel drive.
Power/torque: 510bhp @ 6,500rpm/420lb ft @ 5,750rpm
Top speed: 191mph
Acceleration: 0-62mph in 4.3sec
Fuel economy (Urban): 11.7mpg
CO2 emissions: 388g/km
VED band: M (£950 first year)
On the stereo: With The Wind And The Rain In Your Hair by Pat Boone
Verdict: Superlative performance, crowd-pulling looks and beautifully finished, but needs more handling refinement
Telegraph rating: Four out of five
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