Squirrelling Away In Motown With British Royalty
As far as unexpected encounters with wild animals go, squirrels don’t normally rate. The furry little nut-smugglers are omnipresent fixtures in my neck of the woods – literally – so a chance meeting doesn’t warrant caution the way a bear or even an ornery raccoon might. But one’s list of priorities can’t help but change a bit at 175 miles per hour. That was exactly the case when I drove this Aston Martin’s predecessor, the DBS, a few years ago.
I was hammering around a closed course – Ford’s Romeo proving grounds – on the company’s high-banked 5-mile long track, 25 mph shy of the double ton, when a little red dot appeared on the surface of the track, far up the straight. It was a squirrel, which, lacking the good sense not to be on the track at that particular moment, was at least smart enough to flatten itself into a pancake (perhaps it heard the Aston’s mighty V12 closing in). I prayed it wouldn’t dart from its adjacent lane into mine, because at my closing speed, I figured I wouldn’t have time to retaliate. Naturally, the kamikaze rodent skittered on its stomach directly into my trajectory at the last minute, leaving me no choice but to issue a critical hair’s breadth correction at the wheel. Roadkill manufacturing is normally a momentary wince-inducing affair – a grimace, a quick appeal for the universe’s forgiveness – and then on with one’s day. Yet in a car as low as an Aston Martin, at the velocity I was traveling, a bit of fur flying and battered karma would’ve been the least of my concerns.
The squirrel, the DBS and I all survived to fight another day, and that 175-mph run still stands as my own personal v-max. The Aston’s high-speed stability and steering saved my bacon that morning, but in truth, I wasn’t that impressed with the car overall. So it was with some consternation that I took possession of this 2014 Aston Martin Vanquish, its replacement killer.