2012 Bentley Mulsanne – Road Test « New and Used Car Listings

2012 Bentley Mulsanne – Road Test

For automobiles, 11 years is a long showroom tenure. That’s how long Bentley’s last flagship sedan, the Arnage, was in business—uncomfortably close to twice the industry average. Every now and then, we all wake up in the same shirt we had on yesterday, but make a habit of wearing the same outfit two days in a row, and you’re going to lose some friends. The Arnage was losing friends rapidly—sales dropped from a high of 689 in 2005 to just 217 in 2009, although there’s a slight chance that the global financial situation was a factor, too.

For 2010, the folks in Crewe introduced the Mulsanne, an all-new dreadnought to replace the aging Arnage. It rides on a new platform exclusive to Bentley, although some suspension pieces are pillaged from Audi (the front control arms come from the A8, the rears from the A6 Avant). At 219.5 inches overall, the Mulsanne is about seven inches long­er than the Arnage and less than three inches shorter than a Chevrolet Suburban. Speaking of Suburbans, the Mulsanne’s 6036-pound curb weight just trails that of the last four-wheel-drive Suburban we tested. Bentley’s new flagship carries six more inches between its axles than the Arnage, which contributes to an appreciable boost in interior space.

Although it may not immediately appear so (Bentley V-8s have displaced 6.8 liters for the better part of Betty White’s career), the engine is all-new as well. While the pushrod valvetrain, the bore-center spacing, and the bore and stroke remain the same, the block, the heads, and the major internal parts are new. For the first time ever in a Bentley, the Mulsanne’s engine features cylinder deactivation. With a pair of Mitsubishi turbos squeezing a maximum of 16 psi into the manifold, the big eight grinds out 505 horsepower at 4200 rpm and, oh, 752 pound-feet of torque at just 1750. That’s only 13 pound-feet fewer than the ­diesel in a heavy-duty Chevy Silverado, peaking just 150 rpm later. The Mulsanne’s redline is a similarly ­diesel-low 4500 rpm. This sort of grunt could affect plate tectonics. Rope this thing to one bank of the Mariana Trench, and you could cinch it shut like a doctor suturing a lacerated thumb.

Based largely on its string of Le Mans 24-hours wins before and after the Great Depression obliterated the car business (plus one repeat victory in 2003), Bentley says it builds cars for drivers, a seemingly preposterous claim. It builds cars that are the size of  houses, as opulent as old English manors, and as expensive as the average suburban castle. Cars for drivers? Bah! Sounds like cars for residents. To test our theory, we decided to live in the Mulsanne for a weekend.

As cars go, the Mulsanne is better suited to living than most. The square footage inside is roughly what this $328,365 example’s price tag would buy in Manhattan, and the furnishings are supremely comfortable. Numerous 12-volt outlets scattered around the interior allow simultaneous operation of a TV, a grill, and a refrigerator, and the rear seating compartment boasts power shades on all windows. However, the Mulsanne’s heating system, reliant as it is on a twin-turbo V-8, is vastly less efficient than the heating systems of most homes. On the plus side, it’s highly doubtful your furnace could propel anything to a top speed of 187 mph.

On the list of tasks for which a Bentley is perfectly suited, accruing straight-line speed ranks right alongside the other important stuff; things like cultivating envy, sowing seeds of jealousy, and inspiring covetousness. Were one to be so crass as to drag-race a Mulsanne, his win light would illuminate in just 13.4 seconds as he whisked past at 105 mph. Along the way, 60 mph would have fallen in 4.9 seconds, 100 in 12 flat. Of course, effort is so déclassé. The most incredible thing about the Mulsanne’s engine—the “6 3/4-litre,” as it’s been known to the decimal-averse for decades, is backed by the ZF eight-speed auto currently found in the Audi A8, the BMW 760Li and 5-series GT, the Rolls-Royce Ghost, and your underwear drawer—is how easily it catapults such tremendous mass. It’s like having world-champion strongman Mariusz Pudzianowski help you move your fridge—a monumental task for a mere mortal, in this case accomplished with no evident exertion. Credit the low redline for the lazy impression, as it has the ZF snatching the next gear just as the engine starts to sound like it might be trying. Instead, the soundtrack is a relaxed, low rumble; pure, unruffled snort.