![]() ![]() But if you're suffering from severe clutch-withdrawal syndrome, a 6-speed manual is also available.Īston Martin is the automotive equivalent of a befuddled, Luddite uncle. For an automatic tranny, it's about as smooth-shifting as you'll find. ![]() This manumatic is produced by a company called ZF which also creates OEM slushboxes for Jaguar and Porsche. If you're someone who likes to take matters into his own hands, column-mounted paddle shifters let you up- and downshift with a finger flick. Sport mode, which shifts gears at higher revs, also delivers a harder punch. Our DB9 came with a 6-speed automatic transmission smoother than a cue ball. But after exiting the city limits and tearing down a stretch of asphalt connecting San Francisco with Napa Valley, the DB9 snapped up, greedily devouring 90-degree curves with just a hint of oversteer. Trudging through heavy traffic almost felt sadistic - kind of like taking a thoroughbred racehorse and giving it polio. The first day we took the car for a spin we kept the front-mounted 5.9 liter 470 BHP vehicle on a strict diet of city driving: no freeways, no tightly coiled back roads. But what it does have - fluid refinement, a hand built engine, a top speed of 191 MPH - is hard to resist. Sure it doesn't have the ultra-limited availability of its supercar stable mate. Think of the DB9 as the DBS' more reserved, better-educated sibling. But maybe you don't have the smoldering desire to own one of the company's 300 DBS flagship vehicles to be produced this year. Then I rolled the window down and hit the gas one last time.You want an Aston Martin. I looked at him and eyed the Aston Martin wings embedded on the wheel. A friend looked over from the passenger seat, “You don’t like to stunt, do you?” As my time with it waned, I was slowly cruising through downtown Dallas at night, the windows up but the bass blaring. I made it through much of my time with the Aston trying to be as invisible as possible, only noticed by those who knew what they were looking for. When you hit a straight stretch, flip the paddle shifters-gearhead note: the transmission is not full manual-push the “sport” button and feel your back get yanked to the seat as the car rockets forward. Turning it and guiding it through curves requires attention and just enough muscle to notice. This thing doesn’t mute the contours of the road. This is a driver’s car: Put your foot on the brake, push the key into the dashboard ignition, and listen as the engine roars to life-a teaser for the sound you’ll hear once the gas pedal touches the floor. And although its 12-cylinder, 510 horsepower engine makes it a breeze to zoom by the other, lesser machines on the tollway, its dark chrome color and sleek bodylines mean that it’s incognito enough to fit in at a supermarket parking lot. Not like its sportier ilk, at least: It doesn’t have a stark-red or bright blue body, nor do its doors open like outstretched wings. And after the booming clarity of the Aston’s impeccable 7.1 digital surround sound system, listening to music in my Accord now sounds like it’s being coughed out of a Walkie Talkie someone duct-taped to the car door.īut the Aston ain’t showy. ![]() After spending those days gripping the DB9’s leather wheel, my rickety sedan drives more like a go-kart than an automobile. My possession of the nearly $220,000 sports car was just enough time to make my perfectly serviceable 2008 Honda Accord suddenly seem woefully lacking. I had the 2014 Aston Martin DB9 Volante for a measly weekend. ![]()
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