2005 Exotic Diamond Black Bentley 34k Miles Continental Gt Coupe 6.0l Twin Turbo on 2040-cars

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Queen Elizabeth needs a new chauffeur - could it be you?

We don't often post job listings here on Autoblog – and especially not ones based overseas. But then it's not every day that a sovereign monarch is in the market for a new chauffeur. Yet that's precisely what we came across, and not just for any monarch, either: this listing is for a chauffeur to drive around the Queen of England. The listing on the official website of the British Monarchy specifies that the job in question – based at the Royal Mews at Buckingham Palace – entails working "as part of a busy and supportive team tasked with driving members of the Royal Family, Household officials, guests and official visitors." That means being around some highly distinguished individuals, for what it's worth, but also getting access to some very rare machinery, the likes of which most people will never get close to: namely, the Bentley State Limousine, a vehicle designed and crafted in Crewe, based on the Arnage, specifically for use by Her Majesty and members of the royal household. Don't think that the proximity to one of the wealthiest families and heads of state in the world means the job would be what you might call "lucrative," though: it pays around $35k per year, which includes meals but not the mandatory lodging, the cost of which is deducted from the salary. Of course it is a government job, of sorts, so it comes with full benefits. And then Queen Elizabeth II has been known to drive herself around from time to time, when the mood strikes (and with impunity), so there could be a lot of downtime, too. News Source: The Royal HouseholdImage Credit: Bentley Government/Legal Hirings/Firings/Layoffs Bentley queen elizabeth ii chauffeur queen elizabeth

2013 Bentley Continental GT V8

The Entry Entry-Level Bentley
I have a friend who once told me that he would never buy the cheapest version of anything. I pressed him about cars and figured he was backed into a corner when I mentioned Bentley. With only the Continental series of cars - GT coupe, GTC convertible, Flying Spur four-door - and Mulsanne sedan on offer, surely this friend of mine would go for something like the Continental GT coupe over the larger, much more expensive Mulsanne. While their base prices are separated by over $100,000, the Continental GT's starting price of $212,600 should still command enough respect from my friend's imaginary - and judgmental - group of country club acquaintances.
"No way, it's the entry-level Bentley."

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.