Driving the beast is — if you’re not picking up the fuel bill — sheer pleasure. Belying its weight, it feels nippy in town, even if you do notice the sheer bulk in fast bends. Its turn of speed is more than you will ever need and the ride is, generally, serene, even if it’s not the quietest of cabins, partly thanks to the howl from that superb motor under acceleration. It’s the kind of car that once you start driving you don’t want to stop, so I didn’t. I started in Dundee and headed west via Stirling Castle then into Glasgow, before enjoying winding roads to Ardrossan harbour where I caught a ferry to the bewitching Isle of Arran.