Our Man in Croatia

Exclusive

11/3/11

Our Man
in Croatia

Dashing designer Duncan Quinn – aka DRIVEN’s own 007 – recently nipped off to the coast of Croatia for a jaunt in the wicked new Bentley Continental GTC.

Along the way he sampled some suitably gourmet goods and generally lived the high life for a few days.

Duncan Quinn tests out the new Bentley Continental GTC in Croatia

Another tough assignment aced admirably. Read on for the full scoop:

There I was getting on a plane to France – or so I thought.

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Luckily the result of my plans going sideways was that a short while later I gently alighted from a small jet in the mid-afternoon sun of Pula, Croatia, sporting a cheeky grin and more than a little jet-lag.

A coastal gem that reminded me much of the Italian and French Rivieras

Rovinj (above) where we were being put up was a small coastal gem that reminded me much of the Italian and French Rivieras.

Paul Jones, Bentley’s incredibly knowledgeable head of product development, spent much of the first afternoon introducing us to the finer points of Bentley’s new Continental GTC.

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A veritable tour-de-force on paper, and a looker when we first caught sight of her in situ, it remained to be seen if she truly measured up once we got behind the wheel.

It goes without saying that the number of permutations of paint, interior and extra optional goodies on the GTC makes the mind boggle.

A veritable tour-de-force on paper, and a real looker in situ

But by then it was cocktail-o’clock so we set off with a bunch of local pirates (below) for a trip around the bay and a few light lemonades as a precursor to an interactive dinner.

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A new friend was introduced to me there in the form of a white wine I’d never even heard of, let alone tried.

Apparently Malvazia is the grape of choice for white on this side of the Adriatic, and a rather fine tipple it was too.

Dreams consisting of me with a devilish grin, the GTC and vast expanses of perfect tarmac

After one or three I set my alarm for the A.M. and drifted off into the land of nod to dreams consisting mostly of me with a devilish grin, the GTC and vast expanses of perfect tarmac – with not a rozzer to be seen from here to eternity…

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The dream was somewhat derailed after a minor setback the next morning courtesy of RIM, when I discovered that my blackberry had failed to realize I’d changed continents and thus I was a little behind schedule after my run around the peninsula.

The rumble of about 600 horses at the behest of my right foot

But not to worry.

I soon got to business testing my theory that all this chat of flat torque curves, the stiffest chassis of any available convertible, and the rumble of about 600 horses at the behest of my right foot would make for some serious fun.

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And indeed it did.

The rest of the day flew by in a blur of beautiful twisty roads, incredible scenery, truffles and flagrant disregard for the 40 mph speed limit posted every so often on the all-but-deserted roads we used to challenge the performance of this topless tidal wave on wheels.

A blur of beautiful twisty roads, incredible scenery, and flagrant disregard for the speed limit

The tech specs for this beauty are amazing, and while a little Rubenesque for some reason blasting around in the new GTC made me recall consuming a fine white Burgundy opposite Christina Hendricks at Café Boulud a few months back.

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Neither Ms. Hendricks nor the GTC could be accused of being waifelike, and nor would we want them to be.

Most of the rogues I know would jump at the chance of a dirty weekend with the GTC

In fact, if I were a betting man, I’d be willing to wager my hat that most of the gentleman rogues I know would jump at the chance of a dirty weekend somewhere sunny, scenic and steeped in culture with either Ms. Hendricks or the GTC.

And preferably both. With their tops off.