Money talks, and "Drophead Coupé" is a $407,000 way to say convertible.
SAN DIEGO
IT’S a Rolls-Royce,” my grandfather said with reverence. I had never seen one before, and I was mesmerized.
It was the early 1950s, and the car was probably a Silver Wraith, the first Rolls-Royce built after a nine-year production hiatus around World War II.
“How much does that cost?” I asked. Grandpa rattled off some figure that I don’t recall now and couldn’t comprehend then. But I have since learned that a Silver Wraith of that vintage cost about four times the average annual income of an American household at the time (about $4,000). “That includes free service,” Grandpa advised, as a measure of justification. “If it breaks down or needs spare parts, Rolls-Royce will fix it — free.”
“What if it breaks down in the middle of nowhere?” I asked.
“They’ll send a mechanic,” he answered.
Nice story, although Grandpa was either just wrong or was flat-out making stuff up. (He did stretch the truth a bit; I know now, for instance, that he was not Chief Cook and Bottle Washer for the United States Navy.)
“Rolls-Royce is a many-storied brand,” said Bob Austin, a spokesman for Rolls-Royce Motor Cars North America. “Some are even true.”
Parts and service were not freebies; in fact, the company depended on that income and it was tenacious in making certain it got 100 percent of it. “It has been said that Rolls-Royce hoods were sealed at the factory,” Mr. Austin said, “so no one else could work on their engines.”
Before World War II, Rolls made its own square-head nuts and bolts. “If a Rolls-Royce technician found a hex-head bolt in the frame or the drivetrain,” Mr. Austin explained, “he would know that someone from outside the company had been working on the car.”
So much for the factory warranty — and so much for your parts and service fantasy, Grandpa.
The warranty — now four years, by the way — was the least of my concerns as I spent a day test-driving a new Phantom Drophead Coupé this summer around San Diego. This was the same city in which I’d seen that first Rolls-Royce so many years earlier. We even drove on some of the same streets. Surely we must have passed a little boy who wondered, “What’s that car?”
This convertible reminded me of that Silver Wraith of the Churchill era: the same stately stance; the long hood and waterfall grille, the high, imposing sides like the walls of an estate, keeping the proletariat at bay.
The Drophead Coupé, several years in the making and probably a couple of years overdue, is the newest version of a Rolls-Royce reborn for the 21st century. Rolls-Royce cars have been built since 1906, but the entity that is building them now has been around only since 2003.
To recap one of the more serpentine corporate takeover tales of recent years, the Rolls-Royce marque was sold in 1998. BMW bought part of it, and Volkswagen bought the rest. The companies tussled for a time over who bought what, but by 2003, when the rust had settled, VW wound up with the rights to Bentley and BMW had Rolls.
“But what’s important to understand is that BMW just bought the name,” said Paul Ferraiolo, president of Rolls-Royce N.A. since July 1. They didn’t buy a car, or a factory, or employees, or even a dealer network. They had to start from scratch.”
The first BMW-built Rolls was the 2003 Phantom sedan, which despite its controversially monolithic styling, seems to have won acceptance from the brand’s faithful fans. Whoever they are.
“We have given up trying to categorize or characterize them,” Mr. Ferraiolo said. “They defy definition.” Basically, they are the filthy rich — whether they are rock stars, drug czars, home-run hitters, oil potentates or your neighborhood real estate agent (if you live in a really nice neighborhood). Statistically, there is a designation for them; they are known as ultra-H.N.W.I.’s (for high net-worth individuals), because they have more than $30 million in discretionary cash lying around. Fortunately for luxury carmakers, there is a growing number of them worldwide — nearly 100,000 at last count, according to the World Wealth Report by the Capgemini consulting firm.
The Drophead Coupé, which makes its official debut this month, will have no trouble finding its audience. In fact, the audience has already found it. The production run is said to be sold out for two years, although that does not mean the cars are unobtainable. The rich have been known to leave deposits with multiple dealerships.
Money, of course, talks; someone wearing a half-million-dollar watch is unlikely to blink at paying more than sticker price for a $400,000 car.
Should you be lucky enough to obtain one, would you like it? I found it sublime, although the glovebox is too small for most sizes of the finer mustards.
One of the first things you are likely to notice is the reverse-opening doors, hinged at the front edge instead of the rear. “Each feature of a Rolls-Royce,” Mr. Ferraiolo noted, “is intended to delight and surprise.” This feature facilitates grand entrances and exits, befitting celebutant occupants, in seats front or back.
The leather seats are like fine furniture, so one can settle in and relax. The car is started much like a BMW 7 Series, because, well, it’s all the same stuff, from the starter button to the confusing shift selector stalk. Most controls came courtesy of the parent company — a reasonable idea, considering the economies of scale.
The BMW powertrain also leaves little to quarrel about. The V-12 engine makes a rousing 453 horsepower and produces a tremendous 531 pound-feet of torque.
Lowering the top, which I predict an owner will want to do a lot, is a one-button, 25-second snap. The top’s cover is another of those delight features, a swath of thick hand-rubbed teak, like the transom of a classic Chris-Craft powerboat.
On the road, the car handles impeccably. That is no surprise, given that it has a BMW-developed double wishbone front suspension and multilink rear. Driving the car is more of an event than a chore. Everybody treats you as if you were in a parade. You’ll quickly tire, however, of waving. For endless hours of driving fun, invest in one of those Prince Charles window stick-ons, with the spring-loaded hand.
Should you drive instead of your chauffeur, you will find the steering wheel of greater circumference than those on most of today’s cars, with thin grips — more like the wheel of a prewar Rolls. That is a touch a purist would appreciate.
So is a special hood with a stainless-steel section down the middle, which constantly makes you feel as if you were driving one of those original block-long Phantoms from the century past. But the BMW-inspired craftsmanship will constantly remind you that this is a more technologically refined vehicle than anything the old British-owned Rolls-Royce ever made. The last Rolls convertible, the Corniche, flexed and squeaked like a pair of cheap wingtips.
The Drophead is quieter because, among other things, its substructure is carved from blocks of aluminum, which are screwed, glued and riveted together with unforgiving precision.
Despite the weight-saving construction, the Drophead still tips the scales at 5,776 pounds. But the company says the car will still knock out 0-to-60 sprints in a spritely 5.6 seconds.
You can also flog it like a rented mule with little fear of a breakdown. If it should need service, don’t worry, a four-year unlimited mileage warranty, with four years of free service, is included in the price. All this for a mere $407,000, or somewhat more if one opts to contact the company’s new bespoke options supplier. You want those floormats to be made of real Persian carpets? How about mink seat covers? A solid-gold Spirit of Ecstasy ornament?
Ka-ching!
The manufacturer’s suggested retail price, for those trying to keep up with the Joneses — or the Rollses and Royces, in this case — is now more than eight times Americans’ annual median household income.
Are you still waiting for Reaganomics to trickle down to your level? Me too.
