Maserati and Aston Martin. Say what you like about the cars, but the brand names are to die for. They’re almost enough by themselves. Tell people you own a Maserati and they’re thinking Sixties St Tropez and cocktails on a shipping magnate’s yacht. For Aston just one word: Connery.
Well, you hope that’s what they’re thinking. Residual retro cool is why you bought the car after all. And these marques do carry it off better than any other. They might be tourers at heart, but the essence of them is this: they’re cars to arrive in. Final yard cars. Name me anything that sweeps up to a kerb better than a grand tourer. Or departs from one.
Because you’re not trying too hard, are you? Drive a grand tourer and you clearly have other interests. You want to get places with speed and style, but raffshly, not forcefully. You haven’t goneunder long, athletic bonnets, they’re there to be effortlessly charismatic.
