If pony cars and pickup trucks are cultural icons of the Americas that don't appeal or make sense to anyone else in the world, then I argue that the Grand Tourer is Europe's similarly wasteful and unwieldy counterpart. After all, what the heck am I supposed to do with a 1,770kg (3,902lbs) turbo V12 2 door coupé that not only has a longer wheelbase, but also weighs more than most four door sedans? Drive from Singapore to Russia with it? We have planes for that sort of nonsense.
DB11 AMR Edition by mshow1215 livery link (GTS)
I sure as hell am not taking it anywhere near a racetrack; with springs softer than muah chee without even the peanut sprinkles, the Aston Martin DB11 is similarly difficult to keep in shape on a racetrack. Wrangling the heavy, floppy car under some semblance of control feels like trying to grasp thick, wet and slippery noodles, and the car feeds back to the driver just about the same feedback, precision, and confidence as disposable chopsticks. I never really know how the car will react any time I turn the wheel or depress a pedal, and it struggles in equal measure with both oversteer and understeer. It's the sort of car that you have to drive with the next three or even four corners ahead in mind and set the car up accordingly even before they come into view, as the DB11 will lean as desperately as I'm leaning into my Asian heritage in this review if treated with any sudden or rough input. There is zero sophistication in how the DB11 tackles corners, so much so that it seems like corners tackle it rather than the other way around. It will kick up a fuss at unassuming, unnamed kinks in the road that are unnamed because they aren't corners in any other car, like the uphill left hander before Suzuka's Degner turns, where the DB11 is liable to kick its rear end out on an upshift from its lightning quick, but also rambunctiously rough ZF 8 speed gearbox. In short, I simply could not find any point to mentally relax on any track I took the DB11 to, because it seemingly finds ways to make mountains out of molehills and hairpins out of kinks. The driving experience of the DB11 on track is like materialising anxiety attacks, distilling them, and then sticking four wheels onto it and then calling it art.
Thing is, it's really hard to say if it's a good GT car or not, as we have so little in the game. It could be a really great handling GT car relative to its competition not in the game for all I know, and the DB11 for sure has some redeeming qualities to make a case for itself: It looks indisputably stunning for something of its size. The balance of the chassis is really nice when I'm not too busy freaking the hell out at trying to keep the car from spearing off into Australia. The turbo V12 has a very usable tabletop torque curve, and the gearbox is pretty quick. It comes in many colours, interior and exterior. Still, I really do wish it had a sport mode that at the very least stiffened the suspension to non–trecherous levels at speed, because as it stands right now, a V8 Vantage will more than harass it on twistier tracks, and a 2017 NSX will match it blow for blow on most balanced tracks despite the Honda carrying more mass with less power. Mind you, neither of those are out and out track toys in their own right. The NSX in particular I wrote a scathing review for because I found it too heavy, soft, and inconsistent, yet it felt like a racecar when ran alongside the DB11. The Vantage proves that Aston understands enthusiasts and can make cars that are properly exciting, and so it's doubly disappointing as someone who genuinely lusts after the Vantage to feel almost none of that spunk and eagerness inherited by the DB11, a flagship car ushering in a new era for Aston Martin.
If it's going to weigh as much as a plane and be just as cushy and costly, I'm just going to take a plane. Those can go faster than the DB11's claimed top speed of 192mph (309km/h).
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