First Drive Review
The last time we reviewed a Rolls-Royce Phantom Drophead Coupe, it was 2009, and none other than P.J. O’Rourke wrote an enlightened piece full of magnificently qualified praise for the glittery land yacht, with cheeky nods to the people who buy them. We certainly won’t attempt to match O’Rourke’s sage perspective, social insights, and penchant for literary flourish. But we can tell you about the new Phantom Drophead Coupe “Nighthawk”, one of nine produced exclusively for the U.S. market, and how it feels to drive it in an area of the country where the car is even more in its element than O’Rourke’s New Hampshire ’hood: Los Angeles.
The car hasn’t changed a bit since 2009, at least mechanically, which is why we didn’t bother retesting it. Unless the laws of physics have changed, the 5800-plus-pound cabriolet probably still hits 60 mph in about five and a half seconds, still negotiates corners with roughly 0.76 g of lateral grip, and comes to a halt from 70 mph in 177 feet give or take.
As for driving it today, being at the helm of a three-ton, $570,000 beast as it lists like the Costa Concordia on Mulholland Drive’s notorious S-curves can be pretty terrifying. It’s all about the consequences: Put a wheel off in the Rolls and you’ll make the evening news. Or worse, TMZ.
And so, this baller Roller is happiest when wafting along PCH or one of L.A.’s famous boulevards at a prudent pace. It is there that one notices the eerie, mausoleum-like quietude with which the Rolls-Royce glides along, as if in its own cone of silence. We’re moving, but is there a V-12 underhood? The top is down, but where are the wind and tumult? We see cracks and expansion joints, visible just beyond the famous Spirit of Ecstasy, but were they suddenly filled by the time our tires reached them? The Drophead Coupe feels as utterly disengaged from the road as its customers feel to the bourgeoisie, which is entirely appropriate, as there’s comfort in isolation.
Unless you live in Beverly Hills, Monte Carlo, or perhaps West Palm Beach, a Phantom sighting is rare. But alas, we encountered no fewer than three other Phantom Drophead Coupes during our 72-hour tryst. That’s where Bespoke comes in.
In Rolls’ lexicon, Bespoke is not just an adjective, it’s a division, and its sole purpose is to do things that can’t be done from the company’s conventional list of can-dos—some $62,350 worth of them appear on the Nighthawk. Specifically, these include seat piping ($3375), special wood veneer ($6710), and contrasting RR monograms on the headrests ($1450). And there’s a flat charge of $44,115 for the Diamond Black “matt” (sic) paint applied to the hood, windshield surround, and grille surround; the full carbon-fiber dashboard, dials, and clock face; and the leather-lined trunk and leather-covered driveshaft hump. Plus a $3400 charge for the privilege of ordering Bespoke interior stuff in the first place. All that is in addition to the veneered steering-wheel spokes ($1025), heated rear bench ($1450), black headliner ($1650), and seven-spoke 21-inch wheels ($9875) that are on the regular options list. All together, the extras swelled the Phantom Drophead Coupe’s $484,875 base price to $569,600. The bourgeoisie need not apply.
A word about the matte finish on the hood and windshield surround: It’s the same Diamond Black Metallic as the gloss paint, only it’s not shiny. It is sheeny, though, and we’re not sure it works that well: Up close it looks great, but from 10 paces, it almost looks as if the car had been left outside since the Nixon administration, or the butler waxed the hood in the dark.
Admittedly, though, the Nighthawk turned out rather fabulous, even by Rolls-Royce standards. The Nighthawk’s black-on-black over black-and-red color scheme fit right in to the exotic-car parade that is Sunset Boulevard on a Saturday night, it appears a touch crass for an afternoon lunch on Rodeo Drive, and it is suitably glamorous swinging open its coach-style doors at the Hollywood Bowl—and we experienced all three. But where it felt perhaps most at home was creeping around the Hollywood Center Studios lot, to which—after a few phone calls—we were graciously granted access on a Sunday morning for our photo shoot. (It’s all about who you know in this town.)
Indeed, if there is any car in the world that can make someone feel like an A-list movie star, it’s a Phantom Drophead Coupe. With that in mind, we imagine our visit re-created an oft-spied scene at the studio over its near-century in business: a Rolls-Royce perched just outside the huge barn doors of the lot’s numerous sound stages, at times mixing it up with production trucks, stage hands, and forklifts. We saw no movie stars, at least none that were suitable to command a car like this, yet it was all very Hollywood—because it was Hollywood. With respect to our friend Mr. O’Rourke and those who drive a Phantom Drophead Coupe anywhere else in the world, Los Angeles is where this car belongs.
