The first Rolls-Royce I drove was a 1960s Shadow, across the Cairngorms on the glorious A939 to Tomintoul. It was a memorable drive, clear skies, snow-capped mountains, little traffic. When we returned to his Speyside house the owner suggested I try his Jaguar XJ6, which he thought a better drive than the Shadow. It was: even by XJ6 standards, the Shadow’s steering and suspension, geared for the American market, were too light and soft. But there was still something special about effortless stately progress behind that wonderful Spirit of Ecstasy.
Shadows got better as they got younger and I suspect the subsequent Spirit was better still. But my next truly memorable RR drive was a 1954 Silver Dawn which I bought in London on behalf of a friend and delivered to Versailles. It was a car whose presence was an immediate check to loose behaviour, compelling respect and motoring manners. When it snapped its fan-belt on a trial run I immediately forgave it.
The journey was a delight. We were waved like royalty to the head of the ferry queue and at a junction in Amiens my co-driver fell lastingly in love with two French girls in a Mini whom we so delighted that they waved with all four hands and nearly ended up beneath our polished grille. Later, as I unwittingly crossed a busy junction against all the lights, everyone stopped for us.
The next RR drive was the steel-blue mid-1950s Silver Cloud 1 belonging to our postman, Steve. The late John Blatchley’s Silver Cloud design is a motoring icon, the model that every subsequent RR or Bentley designer plunders for cues. Steve’s is lovingly maintained and offers a very satisfying, simple drive; if it were mine I would never sell it (nor will he).
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