The following comes from Evo Magazine, December 2001 edition. It remains the property of the publisher.

Bristol Blenheim 3 'S'

The 'S' brings a sporting edge to the Bristol formula of lazy power and understated style

Tony Crook, managing director and for many years sole proprietor of Bristol Cars, is one of the great characters of the motor industry. He flew fighter planes during the second world war, drove racing cars with conspicuous success in the years following. He is a complex individual – sometimes reticent, at other times borderline exhibitionist. Single-minded, demonstrably eccentric. Wicked sense of humour, fiercely protective of 'the Bristol way'. And if you criticise his cars, you'd better brace yourself for the (usually withering) response. Most of all, you'd better get your facts right.

The facts, then, as far as I can ascertain, are these. The car you see here is the Blenheim 3 'S', the latest and most sporting derivative yet of the V8-engined coupe, which first appeared in the early 1990s, though its basic layout – separate steel chassis, aluminium body, big-cube Chrysler V8, Torqueflite autobox, rear-wheel drive – can be traced back at least a couple of decades.

The 'S' has a more aggressive 'stance', brought about chiefly by increasing the rear track by a couple of inches and fitting larger, 16in wheels and wider Avon 225/60 tyres. Quad tailpipes and subtle changes to the bodywork add to the more purposeful air. Though it could never be described as beautiful, it does have a certain understated appeal; if you want a luxurious British car but find Jaguars too common and Bentleys too ostentatious, you might well consider a Blenheim.

The 5.9-litre Chrysler V8 has been extensively redeveloped – bigger valves, freer-flowing inlet and exhaust systems, remapped ECU. Just like Bentley in the old days, Bristol doesn't reveal anything as vulgar as power and torque figures. My guess would be around 300bhp and 350lb ft. Top speed is said to be limited to 150mph, with 0-60 in 5.4sec. A slightly shorter rear axle ratio has been introduced to enhance acceleration.

The suspension too has been reworked. There's a stiffer anti-roll bar at the front and revised damping all-round to give tighter control over the springing, while the brakes have been uprated with four-piston light-alloy callipers up front.

Climb aboard – the body is both tall and narrow, while the seats are big, sumptuous chairs – and you find the driving position is absolutely spot-on, with excellent all-round visibility, thanks to the lofty driving position and thin pillars. There's a small acreage of deeply glossy walnut, and a rather motley assortment of switchgear. It's an interior that has evolved rather than being designed from scratch, and quite possibly none the worse for that, though some details, like the rather plasticky gear-selector and surround, do jar.

You're not quite sure what to expect when you turn the key and it's slightly shocking to find the car trembling and pulsing to a wonderfully throbby and vocal V8. This is key to the split personality that defines modern Bristols. The forthcoming Fighter supercar will have a Viper-derived V10 engine, don't forget...

Opening the throttle for the first time, it's rather as you imagine a classic Riva powerboat – the prow rises slightly, tail squats, exhausts woofle purposefully and away you surge. The four-speed autobox swishes between gears smoothly, just as it always has, but it changes up quite early, and while there's a goodly spread of torque, it's not of Bentley-sized proportions. To extract the maximum you've got to nail the accelerator into the Wilton, or shift manually, which doesn't feel quite right, not in a gentleman's carriage. If you can bring yourself to do it, the V8 will rev lustily to the 5000rpm red line, but even then the performance is brisk rather than brainscrambling, satisfactory rather than startling. That 5.4sec to 60 feels a tad optimistic.

Then again, just as it might be vulgar to talk about power and torque figures, it seems almost gauche to describe a Bristol in usual road-testing terms. Oh well, in for a penny...
Our test drive was admittedly short, and the smooth, sweeping B-roads revealed only a limited amount about the Blenheim S's dynamics. The ride is certainly firm – transverse ridges send a jolt through the chassis – and the rear damping felt overly stiff, though it can be adjusted. The car turns in to corners keenly, though there's considerable bodyroll and a slight squirming motion from the rear axle before it really gets settled into a turn. It would take time to learn to trust it.

High-speed cruising is probably its forte. The narrow, easy-to-place body, light, responsive steering and smooth gearchange undoubtedly make it a practical town car too. But driving quickly cross-country, it wouldn't see which way an Aston Vanquish went. Biggest disappointment are the brakes, which have a dead feeling and require substantial pedal pressures.

I hesitate to criticise the Blenheim S, because there is so much to be admired about Bristol. A rich heritage. An image that remains 'cool' and covetable. A feeling of specialness. Above all, integrity in the way the cars have been designed and built. All of this can – and should – be retained. But it's also time to move on, and the Fighter ought to herald a new dawn.

If a Mr Crook phones for me, I'm away from the office for a few days.

Words/Pictures: Peter Tomalin