Bentley Brings It

Britain's venerable sports-luxury car revisits its heritage of high performance and panache

Paul A. Eisenstein
From the Print Edition:
"24", Jan/Feb 2006

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Apparently, buyers agree. Demand for the Bentley Continental GT, a luxury sports coupe, has been so strong that the automaker is struggling under the weight of a six-month backlog. Bentley sales nudged 6,500 in 2004, the GT accounting for all but a few hundred of that total. The tally for last year was expected to come in around 9,000. "We all have to pinch ourselves sometimes," says Tennant, with a mixture of pleasure and awe. How much more could the brand grow? "We could easily do 50,000," suggests CEO Franz-Josef Paefgen, by moving even more down-market. "It is not a question of how many we could make, but how many we will choose to make."

Don't expect to see an $80,000 Bentley, or even one at $120,000. Paefgen and his team like where they're sitting. The newest addition to the lineup falls into the same price category as the GT. The Continental Flying Spur shares the GT's basic platform and power train. But it adds an extra 20 inches in length, most of it in the rear seat, which can be described as both cavernous and sumptuous, in sharp contrast to the GT's minimalist rear.

On the Road Again

With the leisure of spreading the trip over two full days, we break for lunch. Stiff from the morning's cold, I peel back my goggles, unzip my parka and towel off. The rest of the trip will be spent alternating between the Mulliner saloon car and the Guerney Nutting coupe.

Despite their age, they prove reasonably modern in many ways. Of course, by this point, anything with heat would seem decidedly au currant. It takes some skill to shift the transmissions, what with their old, square-cut gears, but during a brief stretch of driving on the Autoroute, we're moving fast enough for the cars ahead to scurry out of our way. We pass a policeman at well over the speed limit, the quizzical look on his face suggesting he can't decide whether to pull us over or lend an escort.

Barnato and Bourne didn't get a break from driving. They blew a tire, missed their fuel stop and had to double back, lost in the fog and rain. But they ultimately completed the 570-mile run from Cannes to Calais at 10:30 the next morning. They had averaged an incredible—considering the dust and the mud, the ruts and the potholes—43.43 mph. Yet the race wasn't over—nor the wager won. Remember that Barnato had handicapped himself. He still had to get to London.

Barnato wisely decided not to wait for the ferry. Instead, he chartered a ride on a packet steamer. Landing under the white cliffs of Dover, the pair hopped into the Speed Six and dashed the final leg to London, finishing their 700-mile journey at 3:20 that afternoon. Barnato and Bourne were upstairs at the Conservative Club just four minutes before the Blue Train arrived in Calais. Barnato's winnings barely covered his costs—before French authorities tacked on 160 pounds in fines for racing on public roads (which Barnato refused to pay).

In the end, it was a fine show of sportsmanship, but a nonetheless futile effort. Bentley's losses were mounting, and even with all his friends, Barnato simply couldn't drive home enough Bentleys to keep the company solvent. He was forced to sell out a year later.

It's doubtful even the GT could win a race with today's version of the Blue Train, France's TGV. But Barnato's exploits on and off the track are all part of the legend and lore that make up Bentley's storied history. They are an integral element in the DNA that the company's new owners have so aptly translated into rubber, wood and sheet metal. No wonder Bentley is enjoying the greatest success in its nearly 90-year history. v

Paul A. Eisenstein publishes the Internet automobile magazine www.carconnection.com.

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