But this is supposed to be an article. So let’s roll up our sleeves to a Troy-Patterson-approved length and get into it, shall we?
Passionné – Some gentlemen motorists live for the drive itself. These gentlemen are equally comfortable behind the detachable wheel of a Formula One car as they are behind the dirty wheel of a Land Rover Defender. We call these gentlemen Sir Sterling Moss.
Sterling drives with celerity.
Sterling has driven more automobiles than you can name. He has owned more cars in three years (not necessarily at the same time) than you will own in your lifetime. When shopping for homes, his first question is not “does it have a garage” but “how many cars can I park in the garage.” Sterling is perfectly capable of tending to his own automobiles. If a tire is flat, he simply removes his cufflinks, rolls up his sleeves, and sets himself to task.
Sterling has spent time on the track and time off road. Sterling knows everything about how a car drives—steering response, acceleration, braking, cornering, pedal feel, etc…—even if Sterling has never driven the car himself. He knows all of this but he also knows not to bore a good man with such details. If Sterling encounters another Sterling, however, all bets are off. Indeed, Sterlings are known to congregate at cars and coffee events. Sterlings are often divorced.
Above all, Sterling has good taste. Unlike “gear heads,” Sterling will never own a Chevrolet Camaro “t-top.” Indeed, Sterling only uses the term “muscle car” ironically when referring to the Teutonic might of Mercedes-Benz vehicles with AMG engines. If he has the means, Sterling will own a Bugatti Veyron. But only the Grand Sport Vitesse, not the Rembrandt edition. Sterling knows better than to waste his money on brown paint. Sterling will also own an Austin Healey 3000, because it’s not always about speed. Even so, Sterling knows better than to drive a Mazda Miata. Sterling will also own a Porsche because … Porsche.
For our Sterling readers, might I recommend adding a Rolls Royce Silver Cloud I to your rotation.
Exécutif – Some gentlemen motorists may not drive at all. But, you ask, how can a gentleman motorist not drive? Because some gentlemen love automobiles but prefer the burled wood of a rear-seat folding trey to the well-worn wood of a steering wheel. We affectionately refer to these gentlemen as Bartleby the Scrivener.
Bartleby’s abstention from driving is by choice, not necessity. For instance, Bartleby’s only opportunity to read the Newspaper over a cup of kopi luwak may be on his way to his place of enterprise. By relying on his driver, Bartleby has successfully stabilized the price of his preferred morning brew by ensuring that fewer civets become road kill. Well done, Bartleby. You will often find Bartleby in the back of a long-wheelbase European sedan or, in some less-tasteful circumstances, the back of a Lincoln Town Car.
Bartleby cannot be bothered with mundane concerns like brake horse power, 0-60 times, stopping distance, curb weight, or the price of gasoline. Indeed, it is hard to imagine that Bartleby has ever filled his own tank. Nor is Bartleby concerned about “reliability”. Should his automobile require attention, Bartleby simply has his man mend it. And if the automobile cannot be mended in the moment, Bartleby’s man will just bring one of Bartleby’s other automobiles around from the carriage house.
For our Bartleby readers, allow me to introduce you to a Rolls Royce Silver Cloud I long-wheelbase edition.
Le Gagnant – One simply cannot go wrong with the Rolls Royce Silver Cloud I. Indeed, the only downside to this car is the occasional buffoon who will inevitably ask whether you have any Grey Poupon. “One sympathizes.”
Regardless, dear readers, please share your thoughts on the perfect car for the Gentleman Motorist. He is always buying.
 It should be noted that a knighthood is not required to be gentleman motorist. But it doesn’t hurt either.
 There is only one newspaper. It is the Wall Street Journal. Though, I have been informed that some gentlemen may have experimented with something called the New York Times during their “college years.”
 For those poor souls who find themselves in New Jersey, do not strike-up a conversation with anyone in a Lincoln Towncar. That is not a Bartleby and you could end up in the trunk of that Lincoln Town Car.
 Bond, James Bond.
Photo(s) from Wikipedia.