British cars we love in America

Despite having declared our independence from the Crown some 239 years ago, America retains a “special” relationship with England. Much of this boils down to the fiscal and the martial; we are economic and military allies. But it must also be based, at least in part, on our shared linguistic heritage, and our interest in asking each other to say things that sound funny in our respective accents. 

Very few of the words the British use to describe their cars (boot, wing, bonnet, quarterlight, windscreen, etc.) correspond to the ones we use. But, despite these syntactical vagaries, we personally maintain a special relationship with British vehicles. The Germans may marvel us with refinement and technological superiority, the Italians may liquefy our faces and hearts with unbridled passion, the Americans may slay us with affable and affordable horsepower. But the Brits are the erudite choice for the cog cognoscenti: those who crave an alchemical combination of luxury, performance, exclusivity, and personality.

So deep is our love for the English wheeled, that for the weeks leading up to the forthcoming July 4th holiday, we arranged our test-driving schedule to include a half-dozen vehicles that originate there. Doling out their perfection in very different ways, but without a dud in the bunch, we would gladly be re-colonized by any one of them.  

In an era when Land Rover’s audacious rectilinearity has been replaced by a rounded and recherché recumbency, you will be excused for not knowing that the storied brand still manufactures the right-angled LR4. Well, it does – for now. And it’s a bargain. Nearly three tons of electronically selectable, off-road capable, all-wheel-drive truck, with premium surfaces, a smooth supercharged V6, and seating for seven (along with luggage), starting at just $50,000. Added benefit: It looks vintage (but comes with a new car warrantee) so you can look riche without appearing nouveaux.

Rolls’ recent vehicular lineup was not exactly known for it delicacy of design. Hand-hewn details, painstaking paint process, bespoke bespokery, and Brobdingnagian sense of scale, certainly. But no one would point at a Phantom II, or even a Ghost and say, “Look, diaphanous grace.” (More likely, they’d say, “Don’t look, it arouses the ire of our fearless leader, praise be to him.”) The Wraith has changed all that. It has an almost Art Moderne, Delahaye-esque profile. It harnesses celestial magic in its Starlight Headliner. And, like good sex, it goes on forever in surprising ways, and you never want it to stop.