DB7 ROAD TRIP
Danny celebrates 30 years of the DB7 with a drive back in time
I know I’m going to be chased out of Dodge for this, but I think the DB7 is the most beautiful Aston Martin ever. It’s not as macho as a DBS or V8; or as iconic as the earlier DBs; or as aggressive or in your face as more recent designs, but it is a work of genius with lines to make your eyes water. Like all great GTs it looks right from every angle. Even its backside, with those Mazda 323F lights, looks delicious, with gorgeous hips rising up over the wheels to enclose its rear hatch. Like all the best car art it also looks effortless, like the stylists weren’t trying too hard (note to almost every car designer at work today). The DB7 is the Aston I would have.
So, Ian Callum and Keith Helfet got it right straight out of the box – or, rather, straight out of Jaguar’s box, where the XX project had been cooking for over a decade. It’s not a Jaguar: Callum went to work hard on the XX after Jaguar left the car behind, opting to pursue the XK8 instead. But the foundations had been laid for a car that has been universally adored from the moment it went on sale in 1994 (having been launched in Geneva the previous September) to the day the last one was built in December 2004.
So, time for a birthday party – or at least a bit of recognition. And yes, an excuse for me to pilot one of my top ten tick-list cars for a couple of days.
The one I’ve chosen to perform this rite of passage in is a special one. It’s a 30,000-mile 1997 manual six-cylinder coupé belonging to PC reader Chris Johns. He saw my little nod to a preference in our DB7 buyers’ guide a few issues ago.
I could have picked any DB7 – V12 Vantage, Volante, Zagato, GT – but my needs were specific. I love the early six-cylinder (i6) car with a manual box – arguably DB7 as envisaged from the start, and the one with the supercharger.
Having read that, Chris gave me a call. ‘Fancy a go in mine?’ I didn’t need asking twice.
Chris has a shed of many wonders; from his first love, Bucklers, to MGs via a fantastic early Austin 7. But the DB7, under its Aston dust sheet, provided the real mystery. It was a brooding presence and an obvious object of desire, even though I couldn’t actually see it yet. Once Chris pulled the cover off, it revealed itself in all its beauty.
He handed me the keys and gave me the lowdown on its various idiosyncrasies, including its fly-off handbrake and slightly agricultural gearchange – which would go to be the only real disappointment. Well, that and the fact that I was too tall in the body for the car. I have a preposterously long torso, so I resigned myself to a flattened hairdo or a reclined driving position.
Then came my instructions. ‘Don’t be afraid to use
