Aston Martin Victor review: the hypercar the Eighties never had

By topgear, 27 May 2021

OVERVIEW – What is it?

Meet Victor. He’s a one-off, unique, the latest creation from Aston Martin’s Q Advanced Operations department. There will be no more Victors. Underneath it’s mostly Vulcan, which in turn was mostly One-77, Aston’s first million-pound hypercar. 77 of those were made, plus 24 Vulcans, meaning this is the 102nd – and last – car built on those underpinnings.

Before we come on to that: Victor. How perfect a name for this car? There’s the symbology – it carries the Latin-derived language of coats of arms and the actual first name of the man who single-handedly hauled the failing company through the Eighties. Victor Gauntlett. The lantern-jawed industrialist who so embodied the cars that were created on his watch. It was he who did the deal to get Bond back in an Aston for The Living Daylights, (and managed to sell producer Cubby Broccoli a Volante in the process), he who revived Aston’s Zagato relationship, introduced the Virage, laid the groundwork for the DB7 and oversaw the successful sale to Ford.

This car is a tribute to him. So perhaps it’s right that there will only ever be one. At a distance of 35 years, this single car is now the lens through which we view the Gauntlett era. But it could have existed then, couldn’t it? The styling so perfectly captures that era, and the mechanical specification could be from the Eighties: naturally aspirated large capacity V12 driving the rear wheels through a manual gearbox. Yes, we know, a manual. A simple six-speeder-and-clutch to control 836bhp and 831Nm.

This is not a slightly uprated version of the Vulcan’s V12. That used a bored out 6.0-litre V12 race engine from the Vantage GT3 and DBR9 programme. The Victor uses the One-77s production-sourced 7.3-litre V12, but this one has been back to Cosworth for extra fettling. I dread to think of the cost implications of liberating an extra 86bhp and 81Nm from a single engine, but it does mean that any One-77 owners out there might be able to send their cars back for the same uplift. It transforms the engine. Aston doesn’t mention performance figures, but numbers are not what this car is about. It’s safe to say performance is plentiful.

But how well developed is this car? Underneath it’s the left-over One-77, a cast-off prototype that’s been kicking around at Gaydon for the last few years. How much effort and energy can Aston have put into its creation? Surely this is just a matter of bodging some old bits together, cladding it in suitably bespoke bodywork and finding a buyer? It’s not road legal (but could be made so, just as some Vulcans were…) so I’d have forgiven Aston for taking that route, but they haven’t.

We can pay it no greater compliment than to say it feels like a production car. And not just in terms of fit and finish, but in refinement and driveability. It deserves a proper life. Imagine it lurking outside a Mayfair casino or seedy Soho club – or just ripping down an autoroute…

DRIVING – What is it like on the road?

We suspect it would be peerless on an empty autoroute, roaring at the horizon, stopping to top off the tanks, then doing it all over again. The suspension is firm and short travel, you sit very low, aware of how long the bonnet is and that your right hand is operating two different eras. Ahead the Vulcan’s radical steering yoke, to the right a walnut-topped manual gearlever. You think the clutch is going to be heavy, don’t you?

Congratulations, it is. But it’s not savage or abrupt. And you don’t need any throttle to get it rolling, it’s not the stall-fest you feared it would be. And that stubby gearlever moves around with weight and precision. It’s a great manual shift. Which means it comes as some surprise to learn it’s just the One-77’s single-clutch sequential with the automation removed. The gearbox that is the One-77’s Achilles’ heel turns out to be the making of the Victor.

And if ever there was a British V12 to rival the Italians, here it is. Such torque and response low down (though it clearly doesn’t have excessive weight to move), and with a top end that just keeps going and going and going. Peak torque doesn’t arrive until 6,500rpm, max revs are 8,200rpm, but it’s not all about the top end. The mid-range is mighty, gutsy, urgent and above it this seemingly endless push of power and noise.

It doesn’t even sound like a Vulcan. The sonic thrash is mellower, deeper and more cultured. Still got side-exit pipes (Inconel, obvs), but unlike the racier V, doesn’t rely on them for tone and volume. But the inertia-free ability to zap to the redline and back in a blipping instant? That’s pure Vulcan. Analogue dials, that’s what I’d demand, just to watch the rev needle zing and flick about. That’s the biggest and most surprising change to this engine over the One-77: the internals seem massless, the flywheel effect practically zero.

Which makes blipping the throttle for heel and toe downshifts – or just for the hell of it – an utter delight. The pedal positions aren’t perfect, the throttle too far up the footwell compared to the brake, but heck, with a pedal box as bespoke as this, that’s an easy fix.

aston victor
aston victor

The manual opens up a whole new world of opportunity. With paddles you’re always up the top end because it’s easy, but with a lever you’re less inclined to be in such a hurry, to instead savour the experience. So you howl most of the way through second and then have time to regather your thoughts during the precision shove across the gate into third. Each gear becomes an event in itself, you visit more parts of the rev range because shifting is fun.

The carbon tub and suspension layout are shared with both predecessors, but the driving experience is more akin to the Vulcan. OK, there’s more movement in the higher-riding suspension. It rolls detectably, has a marginally softer brake pedal, a more forgiving ride. It steers accurately, beautifully because there’s proper feedback from the hydraulic steering. It can even be slid around because the traction breakaway is progressive and the long wheelbase means you have time to react.

But it’s definitely not a GT. Yes, it could howl through France, but it wouldn’t be a placid companion. It’s more old school than that, takes some managing and concentration. The brakes especially. They’re mighty powerful with a lovely firm pedal, but if you don’t give them everything they squeal like mad.

But what a thing this is to drive. Massively powerful engine, dextrous chassis balance, weight carried low, movements taut and athletic. And that manual gearbox. There’s nothing quite like this, hasn’t been for years in fact. It’s nothing like a DBS Superleggera – that’s way more cushioned and cosseting, but nor is the Victor as frenetic and lively as a Ferrari 812. Similarly focused drive, but more relaxed character. Needs to be used on road though. Let’s hope the owner agrees.

ON THE INSIDE – Layout, finish and space

It’s an Eighties concept car, arrived 40 years late. Because back then, imagining a car 40 years hence, they would still have given it a manual gearlever and some sort of funky steering wheel. So it’s an odd car this, retro-futuristic in equal measure depending on your era viewpoint.

Either way, the cabin is beautifully made. This is perhaps the most impressive aspect of the whole car. It’s a one-off cockpit, bearing little in common with either the Vulcan or One-77 so the investment in not only making it properly, but fundamentally redesigning it, is huge.

Yes the floor is a bit plain and uncarpeted, but up top everything is leather or carbon – apart from a couple of slivers of tasteful wood and the rooflining, which is cashmere. Because of course it is. Eighties luxury with just enough hint of Del Boy. We’d prefer analogue gauges to the digi instrument binnacle, but will forgive the centre screen, because it’s from the Vulcan. So’s the steering wheel, although the controllers have been repurposed with buttons for the horn and fuel release, rotary controllers for the wipers. And look: exposed gear linkage.

The fixed back seat is somehow spot on and although the Victor feels big around you, the front end miles away, the operation of the controls gives you complete confidence to place it accurately on the road.

Aston hasn’t even forgotten about boot space. Open the rear deck and you’re not only going to get a better view of the exposed in-board pushrod suspension, but reveal a surprisingly useful and immaculately trimmed load bay.

OWNING – Running costs and reliability

Four or five million pounds (RM23m or RM29m). That’s the rumour. Worth it? Not a question that you can answer rationally. In terms of what it communicates as a piece of design, it’s cheap at that price. This is a one-off car that encapsulates a particular era in Aston Martin’s history. There’s no other version out there, and as far as one-offs go, this has to be one of the most successful ever conceived.

Actual running costs? God knows. Think tens of thousands just to insure for a track day. The fact it’ll probably do 70 litres per 100km is literally the last thing you’d ever worry about. Crashing. That would occupy your mind, because then you’d be ruining a pristine one-off, a car that doesn’t just drive well, but captures a moment in time. And that would be bad.

VERDICT – Final thoughts and pick of the range

"Aston builds the hypercar the Eighties never had. The Victor is possibly the finest one-off ever created"

What’s charming about the Victor – and why it’s possibly the finest one-off ever created – is that there’s no customer whim or fancy about it. This is not a car that seems to have been created to fulfil someone’s personal fantasy, but instead crafted by Aston Martin to celebrate the brand by encapsulating a particular era. It retrospectively burnishes the firm’s image (which wasn’t that great back then, never far from bankruptcy) while simultaneously convincing us that it’s the hypercar the Eighties never had.

As a thing to drive, the Victor manages to span the eras as well. Although it follows in the footsteps of the One-77 and Vulcan it has a character all its own. A nat asp V12 and manual gearbox certainly helps in that regard, but this is a car that when you drive it, seems to take you back in time.

It’s as a piece of design that this road-going dreadnought really scores, successfully capturing the sheer brutishness of those Eighties Astons. If it helps drive up the prices of used cars from that era, it surely has to go down as one of the most valuable pieces of design Aston Martin has done since the DB5.

 

Overall Verdict: 9/10