The best preparation for a half marathon is a long drive in the Aston Martin Vanquish Volante

I promised myself when I got in the new Aston Martin Vanquish Volante and prepared to assess its potential brilliantness that I would avoid any mention of 007. The association between the world’s best loved spy and this British luxury marque is well known and the path has been too well trodden. So, I won’t. This is my one and only mention.

But, I find film always sits so well with cars, so I will pivot to The Running Man, starring the man of the moment Glen Powell. Now I’m no Glen, but I can run, have run and do run. Which leads me (very tenuously) to my choice of destination on this rural romp in Gaydon’s latest V12 monster: The Beachy Head Half Marathon — yes just the half. Full marathons are for lunatics and ultra-charitable lunatics. I can’t risk my 40-year-old knees, hips or ankles on such a brutal challenge — but half of one? That’s right up my strasse.

I can’t resist a good road trip with an important destination. For me, luxury cars are as much about the journey as the destination; there’s nothing better than arriving somewhere to the faces of awestruck friends, jealous siblings or wide eyed 12-year-olds. And there’s also nothing better than the supple leather surrounds and enigmatic noise of the journey, so I am always determined to travel in style when going anywhere further than the local Tesco.

This particular destination was in aid of a dear friend's 40th birthday. To be transparent, we are a group of actors, so we live for a dramatic narrative and depth of character, both of which I was hoping would be easily met by Aston Martin’s 5.2-litre twin-turbo V12. Intentionally, this was a birthday trip with a built-in challenge so we all could (hopefully) prove that we were still young, healthy and capable. Let’s skip the carb loading, and get to the Aston.

Appearance can be everything in the visual-art world, and so too is it in the automotive – it is impossible to ignore the looks of a luxury motor as you stroll towards it in the car park or see it parked outside your house. They are objects of desire before they are modes of transport; the Vanquish is not a BYD Seal or MG EV, those are mere ‘cars’. Firstly (and controversially), I don’t love every inch of this car and at this level it comes down to the margins of love, the fullness of desire and obsession it evokes.

Can we talk about the back? The large, dare I say, plank of carbon fibre that sweeps around the back like the rear end of a cargo ship or pick-up truck tailgate. Wide, flat and slightly bland, it could quite easily say HILUX. I don’t like that very much. Otherwise, it is a beautiful car with the right level of muscularity in its nose and side flanks while maintaining the iconic Aston Martin class and sophistication. Strong and stylish. Like Daniel Craig. Argh, sorry, I mean like Michael B. Jordan. Or Henry Cavill. Both look great in a suit, but could definitely kill you.

Now it is long, or at least looks very long. Viewing it in profile it almost looks stretched and there will be car parks that make you fear for its nose — but to be honest if you’ve paid nearly £400,000 for a car, you’re probably not squeezing into the local Co-op are you? It’s valet for you. And yes, you read that right, this car is a lot of money. There’s inflation and there’s supercar inflation — I feel that nowadays you can’t buy any high-end luxury sportscar for less than a quarter of a million pounds, particularly once extras are all added. After driving the Rolls Royce Cullinan and the Ferrari Purosangue I have started to get mildly used to the idea that a production car could cost up to £400,000, but it still takes some digesting. I know the skill and talent that goes into making cars of this sophistication and it’s not unwarranted, but it really highlights anywhere you think you’re not getting value for money.

In the Vanquish Volante (due mainly to the stunning folding fabric roof) that shows itself in its boot space. Now no one buys this kind of car so you can move house or start a painting-and-decorating company, but still, you’d hope to not be challenged on a weekend away. The storage on the Satin Aluminite Grey Volante I was loaned was so minimal as to be almost hypothetical. I was driving one friend, for one night away, and we only just fit our two bags in there, and that was after removing the Aston Martin wind deflector that you could erect when the top was down. Well, that wasn’t an option for us if we wanted to take our running trainers, which felt like a minimum requirement for a half marathon. So, I took it out and left it at home.

Lastly, closing a boot by hand now seems practically archaic — most modern cars have a button making the act of physically slamming the Aston’s feel like buying an iPhone, but having to wind it up to make a call. It’s not a lightweight track car, surely that little extra tech could have been squeezed in.

However, all that finickity grumbling aside (which I feel important to mention, but also completely not the point) this monster is a thing of beauty to drive, be around, look at and experience. The power of this 823hp, 1000nm of torque, seismic goliath is a Marvel; as in Marvel Marvel. It could have its own comic book, such is the effortlessness of the power delivery and speed. I pushed this car a few times, but it felt like I never even touched the sides, it never felt like I even got close to anything representing a challenge or a limit. You could glide past 140mph (not that I did) and feel like it’s barely been switched on.

What that does is make all of the power delivery and driving experience feel effortless, yet still engaged — the exhausts roar and there’s a physicality that feels sporty and aggressive at times, but all in a bubble of complete ease, which feels like a rare thing. To be rough and smooth at the same time. Much like Daniel….I mean, much like Tom Hardy as both Kray twins in Legend.

The drive from my home in Buckinghamshire down to Eastbourne on the south coast allowed for all the necessary flora and fauna to enjoy a car of this dexterity — motorways, B roads, slicing dual carriageways and village high streets. From this cross-section, I felt I got to experience how the car exists in the world around it, but also how the world around it responds in turn. Does it turn heads? Do people get their phones out? Is it loud and obnoxious or stealthy and sly? As we were clothed in a subtle, almost matte, satin grey with grey fabric roof it certainly erred on the side of subtlety and discretion slipping past fans like an incognito movie-star with a cap and sunglasses, rather than Lamborghini’s equivalent of Dwyane Johnson in a purple suit high-fiving well-wishers. Sometimes I felt like I wanted more attention, but perhaps it’s happier shrinking into the background like a secret agent. Oops. At least when I pulled up at our accommodation for the weekend I was met by eyes that were both wide and rolling – a fitting reception I suppose.

The completed run was finished off with a dip in the ice-cold English Channel to speed up our muscular repair. As we sat and looked out over the ocean, I glanced back at the cosseting and entertaining vehicle parked up nearby, also enjoying the view. Once my hamstrings had stopped burning from the cold, I was keen to get back behind the wheel and waft, thrash and power through the great British countryside all the way home.

Now I am a man, and I did do some running, but unlike Mr Powell, I wasn’t being pursued by assassins who were trying to kill me (because frankly I’m not sure any of them would fancy the ups and downs of the Seven Sisters). However, I would say that the billion-dollar prize pot could come in handy, so I could get my hands on one of these sumptuous super GT’s.

Aston Martin, as ever, manages to hold space amongst Ferraris, Bentleys, Lamborghinis and Rolls Royces with its own unique brand of style, power and grace – much like, well, much like James Bond. I tried.