I know an American editor with access to the world's best automobiles. When Aston Martin loaned him a DB7 for a California rally, he said the British car made him long for his Porsche. Aston should have given him a Vanquish.

The Vanquish's appearance is the most obvious advantage. The car has enough visual drama to make a DB7 look mundane, or a Carrera look like a suppository. The enormous rear wheel haunches are the aesthetic departure point. Ian Callum has done a remarkable job blending this bulky cliché into the DB7's svelte shape. Combined with a perfectly proportioned reiteration of the classic Aston nose, the result is the first Aston since Bond's DB5 to combine aggression with elegance. The design's only weakness– the elliptical boot line– will be remedied by the forthcoming Zagato version.

Even though Bracknell's perfectly prepared X5 4.6is dosed me with the usual 'new car narcotic', it didn't take me long to notice the difference between my regular set of wheels and BMW's top-of-the-range off-roader. Compared to an M5, the X5 4.6is' ride is like surfing down an endless mountain of irregular sized rocks on a tea tray. The X5's rock-hard suspension and 20' wheels transformed the smallest road imperfections-slight dips, tiny ruts, minor repairs and fractional changes in the paving surfaces-into 'events'. My partner called the resulting sensation 'road turbulence'. As her barely legible notes reveal, the incessant bone shaking was a major distraction.

Don't get me wrong. I know the value of a rock-hard suspension. I've driven a Nissan Skyline GTR V-Spec at speed. But c'mon, we're talking about an X5. A 'normal' (i.e. non-Sport) X5 is one of the world's most comfortable cruising machines. Perched imperiously above traffic and/or vegetation, nestled into its spacious, serene, superbly appointed cabin, owners waft along without a care in the world. There's enough metal and mod cons to cosset all who nestle within. Sure, the beast wallows a bit in the corners. And yes, even the 4.4 litre petrol-powered model could use a tad more power, but don't be churlish. If you're in no great hurry, an X5 is a perfect place to wile away the hours spent going from here to there.

OK, so you want a fast car. A really fast car. A car so absurdly rapid that you'd stop for the police because you're a law-abiding citizen-not because you have to. The only trouble is money. To buy anything monstrously quick with enough finesse to keep you on the road, you're going to have to pay mortgage money to the Germans or Italians. Sure, you could modify a Rice Burner, but that ain't cheap either, and a bit too Fast and Furious for style conscious Brits. Then check out the Ultima Can Am.

You want fast? In all my Ferrari-owning, Lambo-loving, Pagani pestering life, I have never driven a road car as searingly quick as the Ultima Can Am. Pop in the light but solid clutch, press the starter button, give her some revs, release the clutch and objects in front of you are suddenly closer than they appear. Wind it up to the 6000 rpm redline and you're issuing a direct challenge to your brain to compute information as fast as it's being received. This at the same time that the G-force is throwing you back into your seat, the wind is trying to tear your head off, and the engine is screaming, 'Look at me! I'm a RACE CAR!' Luckily, the Can Am's 18' tyres maintain a death grip on the tarmac- giving drivers freedom to pick bugs out of their teeth while recovering from endorphin overload.

Celebrity road traffic lawyer Nick Freeman owns a Lexus SC430, so I can't be too rude about it. Suffice it to say, the Japanese convertible is a strikingly unoriginal design. The shape morphs an Audi TT with a Mercedes SL, retaining none of the modernism of the former, or the elegance of the latter. The SC430 also adheres to Lexus' well-established tradition of total brand anonymity: ensuring that no model looks even vaguely similar to any other model. As for the coupe's road manners, reviewers unanimously agree that the SC's suspension is harder than trigonometry— to no appreciable sporting effect. But I like the TV ad.

A man cruises deserted streets in a silver SC430. Denying British customers a chance to identify the strange-looking car's ethnicity, he motors into an empty Italian piazza. When he gets out of his £50,850 import to buy some flowers, swirling crowds appear. When re-enters his automotive sanctuary, the crowd disappears. With startling honesty, the tag line informs us "It's How it Makes You Feel Inside". Translation: We know this thing looks weird. Forgeddaboutit-san. See it from the driver's perspective. When you get behind the wheel of a meticulously crafted Lexus SC430, you'll feel safe, secure and, yes, happy. We build this car for you, not "them".

It's called "the halo effect". A range-topping super model allegedly inspires punters to buy the low-end variant. I can't afford an M3, but I can buy a Compact, which shares the same engineering bloodline. I might not be able to get to sixty under six seconds, or lap the Nuremburgring in less than an hour, but hey, it's still a BMW!

A pistonhead can no more resist a Ferrari's charms than a Labour party fundraiser can stop himself from accepting money from, um, anyone. The 360 Modena personifies the marque's appeal. The car's voluptuous curves and aggressive angles seduce pistonheads and innocent bystanders alike. When woken, the 360's flat plane crank unleashes a mechanical siren song of mythical proportions. To drive a 360, at speed, down a familiar road, is to surrender your soul to the Tifosi's embrace. Her screams still invade my sleep.

Hello, my name is Robert Farago and I'm a recovering Ferrari owner. I'd like to tell you about my first Ferrari…