As a dads and lads car, the Aston Martin Vantage is hard to beat. This is a car that has a lot going for it. But for some reason Aston fail to sell it as the ideal machine for a 15-year-old son and his 50-something Dad to do some serious bonding during an 800-mile trek to Le Mans.

Even Hell’s Angels love the Vantage. Stuck in horrific traffic outside Paris, crawling along next to a gang of Harley-Davidsons, we passed the time revving the car’s 4.3 litre V8, while the grinning bikers roared back blipping the twist-grip throttles of their monster machines. It just wouldn’t happen in a Vauxhall Corsa or a Rolls-Royce.

While at the insane auto love-fest that is the Le Mans 24 Hours endurance race, the car was repeatedly photographed, admirers rushing to pose next to it, even those wearing Ferrari or Corvette baseball caps.

What is it about the Aston Martin badge that inspires not green-eyed envy, and the hateful desire to scrape a key along the paintwork, but genuine affection and admiration?

First, the Vantage V8 is small. It doesn’t threaten or intimidate. It is the “baby” of the Aston Martin range, albeit costing barely a couple of pints of reassuringly expensive lager under £80,000. There are no airs and graces about the car. It is disarmingly elegant, a classic two-door, two-seat GT, low to the ground, short and squat, it looks ready to go, the slightly bulging wheel arches hinting at the performance.

It does not have the feel of a “baby” Aston though — nor of one that is the “cheapest” in their range, though in this world “cheapest” is clearly a relative term. The Vantage V8 is a real Aston, with all the design cues — open-mouth grille, hunched stance, long bonnet — you would expect.

Open the doors and the attention to detail is obvious. The doors appear to swing out but also up slightly to make it easier to enter and exit.

The seats are leather, of course, simple, sports-shaped but wonderfully comfortable over long distances and not too obviously bucket-shaped.

Behind the two seats, space is short — a briefcase maybe or a laptop, though the hatch boot swallows soft bags and plenty of kit for a long weekend away.

The feel of the car is a delight, the seats, the leathercovered steering wheel, the short, sawn-off gear shift lever and large aluminium knobs. It is when that V8 comes to life, though, that the car lives.

For such a high-performance car, all 380bhp of it, the Vantage is remarkably well behaved in traffic. It crawls along, quiet as can be, no drama or histrionics. And at 70 to 75mph on French autoroutes the computer was recording an astonishing 24mpg, though the average is closer to 18mpg on a run.

But hit the accelerator hard, and the V8 brings a smile to your face, whether you’re a fresh-faced teenager or hardened hack. This is a great engine, a great-sounding engine, and thankfully Aston has allowed it to have its voice, rather than muting the sound.

Fast too, illegally fast if you are not careful. Top speed, say Aston, is a heady 175mph and the 0-60mph sprint can be dealt with in under five seconds. For all that performance, it is not a scary car to drive. In every day motoring it is pliant and biddable, but all the while the potential is there to have some serious high-speed fun.

This is no lightweight throwaway speed machine however. The feel is much more of a machine that will last and take what is thrown at it.

Such engineering is a must, for while £80,000 cars are hardly run of the mill, competition is intense for those lucky few who are able and willing to spend so much on their cars. The BMW M6 two-door coupé is similarly priced, but at 500bhp is massively more powerful.

Significantly less costly is the 4.2 litre V8 Maserati Gransport, or there is the £66,000 Porsche 911 Carrera S, which is even faster than the Vantage V8.

Can these cars match the Aston for the sheer enjoyment of being in it? And even in this exalted company, how many are so comfortable that a gangly 15-year old lad can sleep in it for three hours solid during the final home leg off the late-night Eurotunnel and back to Suffolk? While Dad avoids the artics on the A12?

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