A Year in Cars, 2014: The Rolls-Royce Wraith Redefines Luxury

There are few automotive experiences quite like the first time you settle into the bon vivant interior of a Rolls-Royce Wraith. Cocooned in seats covered in leather that feels as though it were tanned by a decades-trained craftsman, surrounded by wood trim as expensive as an economy car, and listening to the whisper of a V-12 engine, you could easily forget you're in a car at all.

The zaftig Wraith is unlike any Rolls-Royce of modern memory, a V-12-powered objet d'art among a cohort of staid sedans. In a past life, it was a Ghost sedan, before a tony makeover—not dissimilar to the ones its owners might fancy—into a two-door grand tourer worthy of coasts from Nice to Westerly.

The most stunning attribute of the Wraith, like most modern Rolls-Royces, is attention to detail. Every touch point was considered before the Wraith left the factory in Goodwood. Leather covers virtually everything that isn't wood or aluminum. In a delightful twist of fate, a jar of Grey Poupon fits in the cupholders. And although you don't buy a Rolls-Royce for its floor mats and accessories, deep-pile carpets are a treat for the toes and door-mounted umbrellas do everything but stop the rain itself.

Look up, and you'll see what seem like endless stars in the night sky. In reality, the ceiling is covered in dotted with enough hand-laid, brightness-controllable LEDs for a Bush inaugural address. Write off the option's cost as a five-figure party trick, or a reason to repeatedly invoke "Starry, Starry Night."

The interior side of each front-hinged passenger door is covered in your choice of exquisite wood finish, in a manner no less elegant than that of a private yacht, angled at 55 degrees toward the opposite door. It's so real that it caused one passenger to doubt its authenticity; that same passenger was similarly startled by its $12,000 cost. To close them, use not your hands but a pillar-mounted button. After trying this once, I vowed to never again close another car door with my own limbs.

But the best part about experiencing the Wraith is that it truly lives up to its intended purpose, complementing the marque's limousine counterparts as a Rolls-Royce that its owners will want to drive. A chassis donated by BMW provides the most spectacular of jumping-off points. Someone very crafty managed to train the lionlike, 563-hp 6.6-liter V-12 to act and sound like a lamb. Your only indication of the immense power underhood is a "power reserve" gauge that displaces a tachometer, theoretically reversing the notion that the engine is straining under power. Handling is yachtlike, without the body roll that a car of this size portends to have, and every body movement is dampered for softness of action.

For bonus points, the Wraith's navigation system indicates which restaurants are Zagat-rated and directs you to them. Once you arrive, the coupe's presence defies the logic of the omnipresent valet, proving a luxurious scare for the pimply parker too nervous to maneuver the big Rolls. Even the meekest of drivers can pass right by the stand and self-park in the best spot on the premises of a swanky, beachside inn. (Ask me how I know.)

You may not always have a destination in mind for the Wraith, but there is nothing at all desultory about the experience of driving it. Wherever you decide to point it, should you be so lucky, the Wraith bypasses the plebeian and ensures that you're heading straight for the best experiences, making it a personal, mobile concierge. For that reason alone, the Wraith is the undoubtedly the most luxurious car I've driven this year—and possibly ever.

For the last week of 2014, we're recounting some of our most memorable drives of the year. Check back each day until the new year for a new installment.