1996 Bentley Continental R Is More Than Simply Sufficient

From the November 1995 issue of Car and Driver.

Rolls-Royce Motors Limited, manufacturers by appointment to Her Majesty the Queen of the Best Car in the World (their syntax, not ours), has just broken an ancient corpo­rate tradition. In the past, horsepower inquiries were answered with a single, discreet reply: “Sufficient.” This policy has changed. As company personnel explain, “We’ve recently changed so many of the other ways we do business, why not this as well?”

So here’s the news: the Bentley Con­tinental R puts out 385 horsepower and 553 pound-feet of torque.

Rest assured that the single-Garrett­-turbocharged, water-intercooled, 6.7-liter all-aluminum V-8 engine fitted by Rolls to its Bentley cars, with its cylinder head freshly massaged for 1996 by Cosworth and its ignition, fuel injection, and automatic transmission now managed by a new, racing-derived Zytek system, really is sufficient—­enough so to lift the massive, 5340-pound Bentley Conti­nental R coupe from 0 to 60 in 6.5 seconds, through the quarter-mile in 15.0 seconds at 93 mph, and on to a maximum velocity of 157 mph.

Those who can afford this car may be unconcerned, but others will be happy to know that it does all that while burning 6.4 percent less petrol than last year’s model, according to the manufacturer. Even for those who do not need to ask the coupe’s price, in the company’s new spirit of disclosure, it’s $322,895.

Some of these numbers are, shall we say, unworldly. But the Continental R indeed offers a driving experience of an uncommon, sometimes eerie nature. Your first impression may be that despite its light, almost airy roofline, the two­-door is a vehicle of imposing bulk. Its wheelbase is 120.5 inches, only 4.0 shorter than that of the parent four-door Rolls-Royce. Overall length is 210 inches, just 0.9 less. The shadow cast on the road is 72.2 inches wide, and the tunnel delved in the atmosphere is 57.6 inches high. Both dimensions are slightly slimmer than the saloon’s—uh, the sedan’s.

Despite its size, it remains uncannily graceful under normal driving condi­tions. Thanks to the smoothly motor­ized, all-leather front-seat thrones (which offer four memory positions each) the driver can sit tall and enjoy a commanding view not only of the road but also of both front body cor­ners, despite their aerodynamic taper. The good visibility allows the car to be placed with precision and helps dispel any initial inhibiting awe.

It’s a very comfortable place to spend time, providing more than ample space in front and treating back-seaters nearly as well, as long as they’re not too tall (the coupe does not offer the four-door’s adjustable rear seats, which increase effective headroom). Entering those rear seats is not difficult, and egress is aided by a helpful second interior latch near the back of the huge door. The Bentley assists its driver by automatically motoring the large steering wheel up and out of the way whenever the ignition is turned off and the door opened.

Ergonomically, the cockpit is a mix of points both praiseworthy and peculiar. Day or night, the white-on-black gauges are easy to read, including the cluster of five in the central binnacle that style-wise echoes the bold Bentley grille housing. The quartet of all-metal eyeball vents are prominently placed, and their big, solid control knobs provide true tactile plea­sure.

It will take a Porsche owner to feel comfortable with the left-hand ignition switch—and a careful Bentley owner to avoid turning it rather than the nearly identical rotary light control next to it. Certain other controls are so cleverly hidden that only luck discloses them. However, the plethora of switches atop the central console can be too easy to get at—one of us once drove miles across the California desert in July with the seat heater on. Worst of all is the radio design, which has tiny controls and a glare-prone display.

A thing the driver must never do is inadvertently trigger the electronic secu­rity system, then leave the key in the igni­tion while closing the doors. They will silently lock you out.

Enough of this carping. The cure for parking problems is to keep the car run­ning, and this car does love to run. In motion, the Continental R is a fascinating study in insulation without isolation. The Bentley still gives that cloud-like ride spoken of in Rolls-Royce legend, yet its distinctly tauter springing and damping and much more assertive tire/wheel spec­ification than that of the sedans keeps the coupe driver properly attuned to the hurly-burly environment beyond the glossy walnut.

Every ripple is felt, but nothing is felt harshly. The steering is light and oily­-smooth but also crisp and reasonably communicative. Engine and wind noise are well hushed but not silenced. The Gen­eral Motors four-speed transmission goes about its business with silky precision but, particularly in its “sport” setting, without depriving the driver of information. The transmission program is so well matched to the engine characteristics that turbo lag is barely detectable; the main power impression is of solid, instant big-inch punch.

The punch is enough to chirp the tires and quickly knock the needle past 100 mph. While cruising at such speeds, a full-­throttle downshift will hoist that long Bentley snout dramatically and give the driver a firm thump of Connolly hide in the backbone. The Continental’s natural environment is European-type autoroute running; it settles down contentedly at, say, 125 mph, without a trace of instability or a hint of effort and with remarkably little noise—demonstrations that it is a gen­uinely good automobile.

Asked to address more typically Amer­ican sports-car terrain, the coupe remains a good gentleman’s sports car that will take a surprising amount of hustling in stride. Tight, twisty tarmac is best tackled with the beefy, center-mounted transmission lever left in “2,” which gives a satisfying, no-delay lunge away from apexes. The computer will upshift to “3” and “D” as needed to prevent overrevving, and drop back down the scale in good time for the next turn.

The car seems to enjoy that, and even to murmur encouragement up to a point. But as the pace rises, the driver can feel the machine deferentially suggesting that perhaps there are limits and that, indeed, they may be approaching. First it starts blocking your view of right-handers with the center mirror. Then it invites you to become aware of bracing yourself in the slippery leather seats. The next signal is an increasingly audible tone from the Avons.

But if these progressive warnings are ignored, the Bentley would no more think of rebelling than would a fine English servant. You can sense it stiffening its upper lip and muttering, “Oh, dear, I fear we’ve fallen into the clutches of a mad­man. We must hang on, my dears, and make the best of it.”

And it does. It will remain faithful until the outside front tire is howling and pluming off blue smoke, and both tires on that side are cambered out like an old 289 Cobra’s, half-clear of their fenders. At that moment, the all-steel behemoth is devel­oping a valiant 0.68 g. Finally, then, to signal the ultimate screaming limit, the Big B will lightly but decisively step its tail out.

Fortunately, this powerful Bentley stops well, requiring only 176 feet to arrest 70-mph travel. That puts it right down there near serious performance cars like BMW M5s and Nissan 300ZX Turbos.

Letting the machine cool down, loping home in the falling night, enjoying the muscular bonnetline looming against the headlight pool is perhaps to find the Con­tinental coupe’s best aspect. Quiet once more, utterly unflustered by its adventure, it is content to motor along with refined, mannered grace.

And so are you. Slightly ashamed, now, of your earlier hooliganism, you think, well, maybe it is time I grew up.

Maybe maturity is when you can accept that your horsepower is simply sufficient.