Ascot, more than anywhere, understands horsepower. It has spent centuries breeding it, grooming it, weighing it and inviting people in elaborate hats to bet on it. The BMW iX3 50 xDrive brings 463 horses of its own to the party, although none of them eats oats.
Aston Martin is not short of powerful front-engined cars, but the new Valen takes things considerably further. Revealed during Monterey Car Week, it is the most powerful front-engined Aston Martin in the company’s 113-year history and according to Aston Martin, the world’s most powerful front-engined production car.
There is sensible and then there is Gordon Murray sensible. The new S1 has no enormous fixed rear wing, its suspension has been softened and it even comes with additional sound insulation. Yet it also has a naturally aspirated V12 capable of reaching 12,100rpm, a proper manual gearbox and a central driving position. In almost any other context it would be considered completely unhinged. Alongside the S1 LM however, it is practically a grand tourer.
There are few places on earth where a Formula 1 car, a Le Mans-winning prototype, a heavily modified drift machine and a priceless concours classic can appear within minutes of one another without the occasion feeling remotely unusual.
That is the peculiar brilliance of the Goodwood Festival of Speed.
The queue for LeShuttle's Flexiplus lounge told its own story. McLarens, Ferraris, Lamborghinis — you name them, they were there, idling politely in line like schoolboys waiting for the tuck shop to open, their owners doing that studied nonchalance that only a man leaning against half a million pounds of carbon fibre can attempt.
The problem with reviewing electric cars without a home charger is that you very quickly become an unpaid infrastructure correspondent. You stop thinking like a motoring content creator and start thinking like a logistics manager.
A large SUV appears entirely at home pulling up to a grand historic building, as though it has merely returned from a light bout of pheasant disturbance. A discreet German saloon also looks suitable, particularly if it is muted in colour, electric-silent and wafting across the pea shingle.
But a bright purple Lotus? This is not discreet. It does not sidle quietly into an open forecourt and hope not to be noticed. It arrives with the visual and audible subtlety of a quality-street wrapper at a funeral.
A pine-scented Italian mountain refuge beneath Monte Bianco where folklore, food, skiing, and serious pleasure converge, and where leaving feels faintly disloyal
Courmayeur sits at the foot of Mont Blanc with the quiet confidence of a place that knows exactly who it is. It has no need to shout. Unlike many Alpine resorts engineered for throughput and spectacle, this is a real town with a proper centre, cobbled streets, stone houses, and a rhythm dictated as much by weather and tradition as by ski lifts and restaurant bookings.
Where Alpine Peaks Meet the Art of Wellness
Some hotels offer you a bed. Others offer you a view. The 5-star Cyprianerhof Dolomites Hotel offers a philosophy. Its daily rhythm is seductively simple: climb mountains like an Olympian in the morning, surrender to spa decadence in the afternoon, then dine like a Renaissance prince by evening. In short: sweat, steam, feast, repeat.
