This English brand's "entry-level" sedan, is the Flying Spur. It starts at just over $200,000 including the gas guzzler tax. But is it superior to more "mundane" large luxury sedans that cost about half as much? Here's a case study about the law of diminishing returns.
This profligate cruiser takes its place among a small handful of behemoth, hand-assembled ultra-luxury cars. Since 1998, Bentley Motors has been the high-prestige trophy-wife of Volkswagen, with some of the fringe benefits residing under the hood. The Flying Spur's two engine choices (a 616-hp 12-cylinder and a 500-hp V8), as well as its creamy-smooth eight-speed automatic transmission and other technologies are all shared with the Audi A8.
The driving experience, however, is nothing at all like that of a typical high-end German sports sedan. This bespoke Bentley is all about velvety seduction, isolation from the proletariat, and validation that you really are better than everyone else.
But in a world where outrage against the 1 Percent is gaining traction, should one own a status-symbol vehicle that costs a quarter-million dollars --especially when it's a lesser of cars one-fifth as expensive?
As with other British luxury marques, such as Jaguar and Land Rover, Bentleys have some eccentric quirks. This royal chariot has fabulous luxury details, like a massage function for each of the four seats (yes, for all its girth, it's only a four-seater). All-wheel drive is standard.
Yet, while exuding opulence, it falls a little short in cutting-edge technology. For instance, the $263,000 12-cylinder W12 we rented had no USB ports for hooking up a digital device or smartphone. At least you can get a mobile WiFi feature. Most of the glove compartment, meanwhile, is occupied by a CD changer, an anachronism that went out of date elsewhere a decade ago. The touch-screen infotainment system is also years out of date, with slow response times and a jumble of chaotically arranged menus and submenus.
More strikingly, the Spur we tried out also lacked the suite of safety gear that even moderately costly new cars offer, such as pre-collision warning, automatic braking, and lane-keeping assist.
To look at it, the Flying Spur is all good taste and refinement--a spectacular showboat that dispenses with spectacle. On the outside it's pretty demure. It has crisp, flowing bodylines, but except for the grille and badging someone could take it for a big Chrysler 300. If not for its immensity, it could get lost in a parking lot at night.
The body structure, however, could easily trace its ancestry to a bank vault. All four of the big, heavy doors close with a perfectly tuned and muted thunk. If you merely push them almost shut with one finger, a soft-close mechanism draws the doors and trunk lid home silently--as is the case with a BMW 7, Mercedes S-Class, and Lexus LS, we might add.
The cabin is beautifully finished and ready for a steampunk revival. The dash area looks uncluttered for a luxury car, and beefy chrome "organ stop" plungers control the airflow through the prominent dash vents.
Besides the abundant hand-stitched leather on the steering wheel hub and elsewhere, what immediately catches the eye is the copious wood veneer, which in our car was a species called Tamo Ash. This is not a made-up name. It's a Japanese ash tree that has a peanut-shaped grain figure.
That veneer, incidentally, is painstakingly mirror-matched into seamless expanses on the dash, doors, and the center armrest and console that bisect the two (and only two) rear seats. Bentley claims it takes hundreds of man-hours to create and finish the wood trim for every single vehicle. Such investments in time and materials partly explain the Flying Spur's stratospheric sticker price.