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And the first Bentley Bentayga goes to... Queen Elizabeth II

The Bentley Bentayga aims to be a lot of things to a select few people. But as the world's fastest, most powerful, and (arguably) most luxurious SUV on the market, it could all boil down to bragging rights for some. So who will get to enjoy the privilege of receiving the very first one? Probably the one person in the world who needs to brag the least: Queen Elizabeth II. The sovereign monarch of the United Kingdom (and more current and former commonwealth countries than we care to count) already rides around in a Bentley State Limousine specially made for the purpose and based on the old Arnage. But she'll now be adding a new Bentayga to her royal motorpool, using it specifically to go hunting at one of her estates in Scotland. She does, after all, own several in the country – including the official Palace of Holyroodhouse in Edinburgh and (more likely) her private Balmoral Castle in Aberdeenshire. Wherever she chooses to drive it, that's got to hurt for Jaguar Land Rover. The rival British automaker has been supplying the royal family with Range Rovers for years. Then again, both companies – alongside Aston Martin and Vauxhall – all hold royal warrants for supplying goods to Her Majesty. Given how many vehicles the royal family must own (and how the Queen has been known to drive herself about), we're sure there's room for all of Britain's finest. Watch Bentley's American CEO Michael Winkler discuss the Bentayga with a spitting image of Rob Cordry in the video above from Bloomberg. Related Video:

2013 Bentley Continental GT Speed

Meeting Bentley's 205-MPH Prince On The Autobahn
I'm travelling at the approximate speed of privilege. With the aluminum accelerator of the 2013 Bentley Continental GT Speed buried to its neck in the high-pile carpet of the floorboard, the 6.0-liter twin-turbocharged W12 underhood is at full boast. The 616 furious British horses pumping under that long, proud prow set the German countryside to frappé with breathless ease, and with the sprawling sheetmetal of the coupe settled comfortably onto its haunches in eager anticipation of ever more thrust, it's clear this machine is content to consume endless kilometers of Autobahn in wide-mouthed gulps. There's an open lane of unrestricted tarmac unraveling before me, and I'm keen to oblige every thread of temptation singing in my chest. The speedometer has just clicked past 165 mph.
At this clip, the new crown jewel of the Bentley war chest is covering land at the rate of nearly one football field per second. The white lines on the road are beginning to fade into a solid stream, and I'm suddenly aware of the increasingly rapid heartbeat whispering the truth of my mortality in my ears. There's no looking anywhere other than as far to the horizon as possible, but even with my eyes set to long-range scan, it's clear that if something goes wrong at this velocity, they'll be burying an empty box in the hills of Tennessee. That little bit of trivia makes it all the more disconcerting when an ambling Volkswagen Jetta strays into my lane for no other reason than to take in the glorious sight of me manufacturing a stack of bricks in the quilted-leather driver's seat of someone else's $228,600 supercar.

The myth and mystery of The Bentley Cocktail

The other day, we were trying to find ways to delight a visiting relative who requested a cocktail made with apple brandy (don't ask), and after poring through Mr. Boston and The Playboy Bartender's Guide we were fortunate enough to come across a recipe. This particular concoction piqued our interest not just because it was a means to get rid of that bottle of Calvados that had been malingering on our bar cart, drawing fruit flies and quizzical scorn, since it was gifted to us at the launch of the Peugeot 407 in 2004. It was because of the automotive connection. (Duh.) The cocktail is called The Bentley, and it has a sexy, if probably apocryphal, origin story. According to the legend, the Bentley Boys – rich, Jazz Age, car-loving, British playboy racers – invented the drink after their first of five Le Mans victories, in 1924. Canadian-born WWI hero and Olympic swordsman John Duff and local English Bentley test driver and Bentley 3-Liter Super Sport owner Frank Clement were the only British team and vehicle in this second-ever endurance race, surrounded by more than three dozen French drivers and cars (and a couple of Germans). But despite typical British maladies ­– broken shocks, seized lug nuts, and a dysfunctional gearshift – and a slew of fires, punctures, and chassis-snapping wrecks amongst the field, they persevered. Arriving at their celebratory party at their club near their adjoining apartments in London's exclusive Mayfair neighborhood, they discovered that all of the alcohol had been consumed, with the exception of Calvados and Dubonnet. Mixing these together in equal parts, and adding some bitters, they allegedly invented a drink to settle their affluent nerves. Like most folkloric explanations for the existence of some gross cocktails – the wisecrack-inspired Tom Collins, the whole-cloth-concocted Seelbach – the tale seemed as compelling to us as it was ridiculous. Fortunately, among our friends are many with mastery in mixology, so we decided to put the mystery (and recipe) to them. "To be honest, I'd never even heard of the cocktail," said Tokyo-based international beverage expert Nick Coldicott, the most skeptical of our potation pundits. "And that story smells fishy to me. It seems unlikely that a party venue would have enough of a booze collection to have Calvados and Dubonnet, but not enough whisky or gin or champagne to see the party out.