Remember Me: Aston Martin V12 Vantage Carbon Black

A couple of weeks ago, Aston Martin was kind enough to get me behind the wheel of a V8 Vantage S. A beautiful car, no doubt. So good looking in fact that you can call the Henrik Fisker penned coupe a modern day classic and get very little argument. Even from serious car guys that like little more than to sit around and argue. Fast, too, with 10 more horsepower (for a total of 430 hp) and 15 extra pound-feet of torque (361 lb-ft) than normal, all stuffed into 3600 pound sexified package. And the automated-manual transmission is so clunky that I’d almost forgotten I’d driven the poor Vantage S. In fact, when the PR lady at Aston wrote and asked how I enjoyed the car, I never wrote her back. I had nothing nice to say! Which is why yesterday, when I climbed into the 2012 V12 Vantage Carbon Black parked behind our office, I did so with low expectations.

And I gotta tell you: the window switches work backwards and there’s no auto up. The air conditioning barely works at all. The nav screen would have been worst in class a decade ago. Today, I can’t figure out if it’s pitiful or comical, though I supposed tragedy plus time does equal yucks. My wife described the interior as, “Like sitting inside an athletic shoe,” and the shift knob looks like a clubfoot. The seats are both highly uncomfortable and totally unsupportive. The gauges not only look cheap, but they don’t work very well. Why is there no indicated redline? And how about an oil pressure gauge? I’m not even entirely convinced that the fuel gauge works. Either way, the big-motored Vantage gets atrocious mileage. And costs about $200,000.

That said, if I were a savvy collector, if I were a man with the bankroll and foresight to make a move, I’d grab one of these with low miles just off lease and warehouse it somewhere for the next couple decades. Because the Aston Martin V12 Vantage is absolutely incredible and will only age well. Serious, it’s glorious. A borderline-inconceivable if not preposterous if not absurd notion of a car, yet an oh-so-classic concept all the same. We’re going to stuff a real humdinger of a motor into a small car and give it three pedals. Yes please!

Here’s all you really need to know: The V12 Vantage has a big, 6.0-liter V12 located about a foot from your chest, a six-speed manual transmission, rear-wheel drive and an exhaust note that could open up for Slayer. Let’s stick with the sound for a second. While the V12’s engine note is superb, it’s the back-burble of the exhaust that lights your chest hair on fire. Under wide-open throttle the quad-pipes sound like Zeus sharpening his chainsaw on a cinderblock; let off the gas and he’s now gargling lava.

Then of course there’s the speed with which this little beast closes gaps. Think about how often you come upon a Camry hogging the fast lane in whatever it is you drive. Now multiply that by the speed of profanity, sweat and a mechanical sledgehammer. The result is that every single car on the road becomes an obstacle, a rolling chicane, before you can downshift. But that’s fine because should you decide to go around them, the V12 Vantage features laser-guided, homing pigeon style handling. Feel like slowing down? The squeaky yet ginormous carbon ceramic cymbal-sized brakes are more than up for the task. And remember, once you let off the throttle, the father of the gods starts gargling once more.

This car comes from another time and place. It comes from… the 80s. A time when supercars had faults and flaws, some actual personality and character, and were the better for it. Since when did you want your Lamborghini to behave like an Audi? Supercars used to be temperamental sons of bitches that dared you to love them. They smelled funny, they hurt your back, they rarely ran and you couldn’t see what you just blew past. Amen! The V12 Vantage is cut from that same tattered but eternally fetching cloth. This car is a warts and all type of monster. Instead of Carbon Black, Aston should have branded this one the Lemmy Kilmister edition (thanks Phil).

I liked the V12 Vantage so much that I started calling people I hadn’t talked to in years just because they had to know. We’re talking real and serious car guys, who even though we hadn’t said boo to one another in 18 months, had no problem carrying on a 30 minute conversation because that’s how special this big-motored Vantage is. Remember, since the demise of the Murcielago, Aston Martin is the only company left on earth attaching manual transmissions to V12s, and the Vantage is the smallest car they make. Meaning that I’m driving the lightest three-pedal V12 automobile you can buy. I had to let everyone capable of grokking that fact’s significance know all about it. Maybe most telling, is that the V12 Vantage made me think of my father, the man who drilled into me the inherent superiority of all things automotive and British, and why you most look past all their imperfections to spot the perfections. He would have absolutely loved this top rung Vantage; I wish there’s someway I could give him a ride.

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