I?ve loved the Bond movies ever since I was a kid, and I have of late become rather enamoured of Ian Fleming?s original novels, too. They hark back to a time when the free world was just recovering from a showdown with murderous fascism and was suddenly faced with nuclear-armed Stalinism. Back then the enemies were real and the future of global democracy was genuinely under threat ? the perfect backdrop for Fleming and his antihero with a licence to kill.

The juxtaposition of Bond?s devil-may-care attitude and some real Soviet nukes was delicious. It made him impossibly brave, reckless and charismatic, and that would explain why little boys of whatever age around the world have secretly wanted to work for M for years. But after 1989 and the fall of the wall, Bond needed a different tack. A new world order meant new villains and new challenges. And the people behind the Bond franchise decided that one way for him to face the future was by driving about in a BMW?

Now look. Bond?s first Bavarian wagon, the Z3, was a dire choice, there?s no denying it, but some BMWs are great cars. The M3 and the 135i are both utterly brilliant driver?s machines. It?s just that this is Bond. He drives an Aston Martin. It?s just law, okay? When I saw the worst Bond of the lot, the effete Pierce Brosnan, get into that nasty little convertible, I kind of gave up on the whole stupid thing. Then it got even worse, and he started driving around in a 7 Series ? yes, it?s a superb luxury sedan but it is inarguably not for James bladdy Bond. Not by a long shot.

A perfect fit

I guess much of the physical pain felt by true Bond nuts across the world was because of the Aston brand. We loved the car as much as we loved the man. They were a match, a perfect fit. Bond ? impetuous, hasty, audacious and sometimes foolish ? does not drive about in a financial director?s car. He drives about in an audacious, fast, gorgeous, loud, sexy Aston Martin. Please, the Bond fans screamed, fix this madness! And, lo and behold, they did. When Casino Royale hit the screen with the hardcore, flawed and scarily brilliant Daniel Craig as Bond and the Aston Martin DBS as his wheels, we were instantly returned to that on-the-verge-of-nuclear-annihilation Cold War Bond. The world was suddenly a better place. The match was back.

So can you imagine what it?s like for a little boy, now thirty-something, who has adored James Bond for his whole life, to actually get into the DBS and drive it? It?s terrifying before you even open the door. It?s meeting your childhood hero ? something we all know we should never, ever do. It?s shaking hands with Michael Knight or MacGyver. It?s actually hanging out with David Hasselhof or Richard Dean Anderson. What if he?s got bad breath? What if he?s a lame old drunk? What if, actually, what you are about to do isn?t just going to spoil your day, it?s going to render the great dreams of your childhood valueless? What if it?s going to re-evaluate your very outlook on life?

Profoundly beautiful

That?s pretty much what goes through a guy?s head when he stands next to the DBS. You just pray, fervently, that it isn?t going to let you down. Because if it does, and this is deadly, deadly serious, you may just have to grow up, to leave all that joy behind forever. To some extent, your childhood would have been a falsehood. We know Father Christmas does not exist. But what about James Bond?s Aston Martin? Well, you can relax. Let?s get this straight ? the DBS does not disappoint. It cannot. It would make an automaton weep, this car.

It starts on the outside. It?s much like the DB9 ? which is to say profoundly beautiful. It?s just meaner and lower. It?s got curves and shapes down the side missing from the DB9. It?s rear is even prettier. It has gorgeous details. For example, when you unlock the car at night, little lights appear on the door handle. Or notice the side-mounted indicators; they?re just perfect.

Inside it?s a whole new world. It?s a manual, with a gear lever and a clutch. The gearknob is a huge, alloy knobkerrie of metal. The stitched leather is immaculate. The facia is a huge improvement on the DB9, if that?s possible. The quality is outstanding, and those famous, beautiful chronograph dials set it all off. It?s the best Aston ever on the inside.

Flawed like Bond

It?s still an Aston, of course, so, like Bond, it is flawed. It has an infuriating indicator stalk that might have come from a Ford Ka. The seats are magnificent but it?s still pretty cramped in there for taller men. The window buttons are awkward to use and they insist on hiding the fuel flap release in the strangest place, where the bonnet release ought to be. But all these tiny flaws only manage to endear the car to a guy. Seeing as you have already anthropomorphised the thing to death, these are the small imperfections that make the car human.

Starting up the DBS is an event. You take the key, which in reality is a solid lump of stainless steel and sapphire, and insert it into a hole on the dash. This fires up an outrageous V12. If the car didn?t already have your attention, it does now. And that gearknob is kind of a warning. Bring your muscles as well as your brain, it says. This isn?t a car for the disinterested driver. If you want to waft gently from here to there, get a Lexus. But if you?ve got the inclination, grab that enormous lever and engage first gear. Truth be told, you?re more likely to run out of courage before the DBS runs out of talent.

On a deserted country road I backed off the power long, long before the DBS ran out of go. In fast, sweeping bends you?ll find yourself slowing down long, long before the car runs out of grip. Unless you?re Lewis Hamilton, the chances are this car is way braver than you. Not that it doesn?t flatter you. It really does fill you with a sense of accomplishment. But mostly it fills you with a sense of anticipation and excitement. There you are, in Bond?s car, and it feels great.

And after a while behind the wheel it all starts to get easy. You?re settling into that seat. You?re finding your gears. You?re getting used to that racing clutch, and even the wide-mouthed stares. Indeed, a few hours later you feel like you belong. That?s when the Aston bestows the greatest of all its many gifts. Because after all the drama and the noise of the V12, you?re filled with calm and you look like you belong. You check yourself in a shop window, and you look good. It?s then that you realise that indeed your inner boy was right. You should be James Bond. You should work for M. And you should definitely drive a DBS.

SPECS
Price: R3.6 million
Engine: 6.0-litre V12
Maximum Power: 380kW
Maximum Torque: 570Nm
0-100km/h: in 4.3 seconds
Maximum Speed: 307km/h

> Extract taken from '25 Cars To Drive Before You Die' by Alexander Parker. Available in stores and online.