The power bump on the S model isn’t necessary. The Vantage didn’t really need it, either. But Aston loves to brag. Our data confirms there is more speed there, sure.
Aston claims optimized launch control shaves a tenth of a second off the 0-62 sprint. Not the extra ponies. Just the settings.
We tweaked things around.
Setting traction control to ‘3’ — the conservative end — yielded the quickest exit. The S actually pulled ahead of the standard model by 0.2 seconds in multiple tests. Sixty miles an hour. 100 mph. The 30-to-70 burst in fourth. It happens.
Then look at the Porsche 911 GT3. Wait. GTS.
Despite a lopsided power-to-weight ratio—300bhp against the Porsche’s 383bhp-per-tonne—and tires 20mm narrower, the German still drags it. At least until 130mph. Electronics are impressive, no doubt. But they struggle against gravity when the engine sits right over the driven wheels. Physics remains stubborn.
None of that matters on Tuesday evening traffic. The Vantage is fast. It is also loud in the good way. Those traits rarely share a showroom floor.
You can grumble about Aston not making its own V8s anymore. The AMG 4.0-liter works though. Really works.
It makes excellent use of the borrowed heart.
The exhaust isn’t rude at crawl. Just that low V8 woofle.
Throttle in, though. Volume spikes. Pitch sharpens. You don’t have to redline it to enjoy the show. Gears are short. Tightly packed. Second gear maxes out at 61 mph. Third hits 90.
Stay in the meat of the rev range. Reach for top gear? Not unless you like speeding. When you do floor it, the sound gets serrated. Rich. It stays just shy of NASCAR chaos. Cultured, but close.
There is texture, too. Mechanical life. Secondary engine grumbles. A curious zip from the locking differential during hard launches. These aren’t silent computers.
Pops on lift-off happen. But rarely. They’re rewards, not habits.
The motor wakes up around 2500 rpm. Full torque is a journey. No eerie linearity here. Lag exists, technically, in delayed throttle response. It’s brief, but present.
The gearbox? Let’s be fair. Calling it weak is an exaggeration. It just… is what it is. The ZF eight-speed isn’t the silky, mooching converter-auto you’d guess from its tech. It’s also not the razor-sharp dual-clutch monster. It sits in the middle. Somewhere between.
The Ferrari 458 (or Amalfi edition) has that dual-clutch snappiness. But its soul is quiet by comparison.
Brakes hold up. Dry or wet, no fade. Pedal felt firm until the track session dragged on, then it softened a bit. Just a bit.
The Vantage S isn’t trying to win benchmarks. It’s trying to be a V8 sports car. And honestly, who needs anything else?
The engine gets cold after the lights out. The noise stops. What’s left is just a shape in the driveway. Waiting.
