There is something endearingly romantic about convertible cars. From Cary Grant and Grace Kelly in To Catch A Thief (1953 Sunbeam Alpine), Dustin Hoffman and Katharine Ross in The Graduate (1966 Alfa Romeo Spider) and, more recently, William and Kate at the Royal Wedding (1969 Aston Martin DB6 Volante), convertibles have played a key role in bonding young love.
Put it this way, if the royal couple had left the palace in a Renault Espace — or other family car — it would not have been the same. Convertibles, like double beds, are for two. Their cockpits are intimate. They have long bonnets, to empower the young lovers to go where they want (and quickly, if necessary). They have voluptuous bodywork, the more extravagant the better. Their boots are small: they are for romantic weekend breaks, not family vacations. They offer privacy (roof up) or intimacy (roof down).
It's not just old convertibles that are romantic, either. I remember talking to Ian Cameron, design boss of Rolls-Royce, about the Phantom Drophead Coupé — launched in 2007 — and he kept talking about his design priority: namely, "romantic" style — from the "elegant" looks to the "intimate" cabin to the "cosy" curved rear-sofa seat. It was as though he was designing a wedding dress or a negligée, rather than a car.
Convertible sales died in the 70s, along with the British motor industry, which was the most enthusiastic proponent of the breed. MGs, Triumph TRs, Austin-Healeys, Sunbeam Alpines, open-roof Aston Martins and E-type Jaguars were all a signature of free-spirited Englishness. When they died, so did a little bit of British motoring romance.
But convertible cars themselves were soon to make a spectacular comeback, never mind that their former British champions stayed firmly in the grave. The Mazda MX-5 — now the world's best-selling sports car — proved, when launched in 1989, that there was money to be made, after all, in the old British roadster recipe. Once Mazda showed the way, most other makers jumped on the bandwagon, helped by the modern factory flexibility that makes it comparatively easy to produce different variants — including droptops — of everyday cars. Nowadays even the one-time strait-laced car makers like to take their tops off. Ford, Volkswagen, Vauxhall, Nissan and Volvo are all enthusiastic producers of convertibles. Audi has no less than four offerings, BMW the same. Mercedes has three.
Jaguar has confirmed that a 'new E-type' is on the way. Maybe one day, Chinese owned MG might try to replace the evergreen TF model — now sold in tiny volumes — with something a little more like the characterful old MGs that used to cruise between the hedgerows.
Into this burgeoning open-top market comes the new BMW 6-series convertible. It is an expansive car — longer than a seven-seat Ford Galaxy - that competes in the upper echelon of the fresh-air sports car market, against the likes of the Jaguar XK and Mercedes SL. Two engines are offered: a turbo six cylinder or a turbo V8. Choose the cheaper version: the six-cylinder model (in the 640i) is more agile and smoother.
Top-end convertibles, such as this 6-series, are not cheap: the 640i costs more than £65,000. As such, this is not a convertible for star-crossed young lovers. Rather, it's for middle-aged paramours, whose courting days may be over, but whose transport needs are undimmed.
The 6-series even has a pair of well-proportioned rear seats. So, if — Capulet-like — you are past your 'dancing days', then you can take a couple of friends along as well.
Gavin Green is a motoring journalist and consultant
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