Rolls-Royce Phantom through Oman

Tom Bird
05 October 2009

It’s remarkable just how easy and comfortable the Phantom is to drive. When we pull over at a desert-side kids playground of all things, I feel as fresh as a daisy. The big steering wheel needs the most delicate of touches and with the cruise control set, I’m able to kick off my shoes and bury my toes into the deep shagpile carpet. I struggle to think of another car that could do a journey like this quite so fast and in such comfort. A supercar might be faster on the good sections of road, but would be seriously painful on the broken stretches. A Range Rover might be as quick, but it wouldn’t cosset its occupants anywhere near as well.

After yet another fill of the 100-litre tank, the road is empty in both directions as far as I can see. I decide to find out quite what the Phantom’s capable of. I plant the throttle into the carpet and watch the needle on the power reserve meter (there’s no rev counter here) swing round from 100 percent to 0 which tells me that the big lazy V12 is using every one of its 453bhp for forward motion. There’s a distant chirrup from the rear tyres as they take purchase on the dusty road surface and the Phantom launches itself towards the hazy horizon.

There’s something ever-so-slighty unbecoming about gunning a Phantom – if Sir was in the back he’d surely spill his Moët (kept chilled in the inbuilt fridge, naturally). But as the speedometer’s needle swoops past the 100kph mark in just six seconds, I can’t help but admire the engineering that’s gone into propelling a 2.5-tonne bluff-nosed car to such heady speeds. There’s no hesitation as the speed continues to climb – the ZF automatic ’box might have six gears but it’s impossible to tell when they’re shifted. As we breach 200kph, I find myself gripping the wheel a little tigher as winds buffet the slab sides of the Phantom. At an indicated 220kph the bonnet open warning chime sounds and I lose my bottle and settle back down to a 160kph cruise. The last thing I need is the bonnet whipping open and taking the windscreen out – and likely us with it.

After 750km the desert shows signs of abating and some mean looking clouds loom ahead – this is what we’ve come for. Every year from July to September is the Khareef season in Salalah. Moisture-rich clouds travel over the Indian ocean and meet the warm dry air of the Dhofar desert over the Jibal mountains which fence the town in. A thick fog settles over the area and brings with it much-needed water which turns the surrounding countryside green. That’s what I’d heard anyway, but nothing could have prepared me for the truly inspiring scene that unfolds in front of us.

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