The 2007 Aston Martin V8 Vantage Roadster costs $113,000, which is a bargain in the Aston showroom; it drives like a million.

NYT

Before there was product placement, before automakers bought their way onto the big screen, James Bond drove an Aston Martin.

Aston and 007 went together like vodka and olives: Both were debonair, British and seductive. And in between Sean Connery’s DB5 in Goldfinger (1964) and the new DBS driven, and totaled, by Daniel Craig in Casino Royale (2006), Aston fought its own villains of financial ruin and sales irrelevancy.

Today, thanks to its resuscitation by Ford — which handed Aston over to a British-based consortium after 13 years of ownership — the company is selling 7,000 cars annually around the world, exponentially more than at any time in its 93-year history. Sales really took off in 2006 with the V8 Vantage, a $113,000 two-seater that costs less than half the tab of some 12-cylinder Astons.

On a perfect day in Virginia, I racked up about 300 hair-mussing miles in the latest version of this car, the Vantage Roadster.

Designed by Henrik Fisker, the Vantage looks like a downsized Aston Martin DB9. Both are among the rare cars that provoke no serious debate: they are beautiful, the Grecian urns of current automobiles.

But if the Vantage’s looks are par for the private course at Aston, the performance is unexpected. The Vantage is a serious curve-chaser, not a mature grand touring car like the DB9.

The fabric top lowers or raises in 17 seconds and can operate at speeds up to 30 miles an hour. Unlike today’s trendy steel-top convertibles, the roof doesn’t steal trunk space when it’s folded.

Built on a weight-saving aluminum chassis, the Vantage remains hefty for its size at 3,600 pounds. Yet Aston claims to have the stiffest chassis in its class, and it does banish any trace of noise or vibration over bumps. Clever swan wing doors pivot slightly upward when opened, avoiding curb scrapes. Hydraulic mounts hold the doors open in any position you want.

Inside, the Vantage features the hand-crafted style of pricier Aston Martins. The aluminum gauge cluster includes Aston’s unusual tachometer, which spins counterclockwise. There are other quirks. The seat adjusters are awkwardly situated. The audio screen washes out in direct sunlight.

Bespoke style being part of the mystique, Aston offers myriad choices in colors and fittings. For $4,500, the company will match the leather to any color sample.

Ergonomic issues flew out the roof once I was under way. The engine emits a high-class snarl and revs like mad past 7,000 rpm. The manual shifter is beautifully precise; the steering, brakes and suspension are adept. (A Formula One-style automated manual is an option). The weight is balanced at an ideal 49/51 split between front and rear.

The Aston felt oddly above the fray at first, reluctant to be prodded past its comfort zone. Yet as I gained confidence in the Vantage’s skills, I realized I was dead wrong: this English gentleman has grit and a wild side.

The acid test came when I shot east out of Shenandoah National Park on smooth asphalt that spilled down the mountains into miles of switchbacks. Knowing I had stumbled onto the day’s best road, I charged: drifting the Aston’s tail through the gullies of each descent, committing its ripping sound to memory, and loving it so much I wound back to the top for another run.

Perhaps I was losing objectivity, fairly overdosing on natural beauty — textbook weather, the breathtaking Blue Ridge Mountains and not least this open-air car. But if beauty is, after all, still the most honest reason to overspend on a sports car, the V8 Vantage makes an especially honest choice.