I Rode in a Century-Old Bentley Super Sports

The Bentley Super Sports heritage represents a century of performance, stretching back to an era when the very concept of a supercar was in its infancy. Modern drivers are used to computerized traction control, carbon fiber monocoques, and hybrid power units, yet the foundational recipe for high-speed thrills was written long ago, and it's a recipe that hasn't changed much in its essentials. But take a ride in a 100-year-old machine, and you'll see it clearly. The core elements of automotive excitement have stayed the same. So don't mistake new tech for new thrills; the old bones still tell the truth.

The archives don't lie. But this historical perspective truly came alive during Monterey Car Week in Monterey, California, where a rare survivor was brought to the access roads around Laguna Seca, and that single machine seemed to whisper everything the brand once stood for. Look past today's grand tourers. To truly understand the lineage, you must examine the raw, mechanical ancestors that established the company's racing pedigree, the kind of cars that demanded brute strength and fearless nerve. Experiencing this vintage vehicle firsthand provides a direct connection to the origins of extreme automotive performance. It's visceral. It's real.

A century of speed

Eighteen units. That's all they built. Between 1925 and 1927, the factory produced just 18 examples of the original Bentley Super Sports, a machine born from a simple desire to take the standard vehicle and make it faster, lighter, and far more responsive. So the engineering team took their standard 3 Litre model and shortened the wheelbase by 9.5 inches, or 241 millimeters, a move that instantly shed weight and improved handling agility. Don't underestimate that change. It's a small number, but it meant everything on the road.

But the modifications went much deeper than a simple frame chop. The engineers also focused on the following mechanical enhancements to guarantee high performance:

• A highly modified 3.0-liter engine equipped with new pistons.
• A lighter flywheel to allow the engine to rev more freely.
• An increased compression ratio for greater explosive power.
• Different carburetors were used to fine-tune fuel delivery.
• Unique high-speed gearing and a tapered radiator designed to reduce air resistance.

These upgrades guaranteed every customer car could top 100 miles per hour, about 160 kilometers per hour, a figure that would have seemed absurd to anyone who knew cars back then. But consider the millions of Ford Model Ts sharing those dirt and gravel roads. They couldn't break 40. That's the real context for that velocity.

The history of Smoky

Smoky is the name of that car. It's the specific vehicle at Laguna Seca, bearing the registration YM 4037 and standing as the 12th of those 18 exclusive units produced back in 1926. Jarvis of Wimbledon crafted its compact two-seater bodywork. And that coachbuilder's work is why it still turns heads today.

Smoky has led a storied life across multiple continents, spending time in New Zealand and South Africa. However, its early years were defined by the race tracks of England. In 1932, its second owner, a Bentley racing driver named Kit Baker-Carr, decided the car needed even more power. He swapped the original engine for a 4.5-liter motor sourced from the actual car that won the 24 Hours of Le Mans in 1928.

Brooklands victories

With the Le Mans engine installed, Baker-Carr campaigned Smoky with great success at the famous Brooklands circuit between 1935 and 1937. During this competitive stretch, the car secured seven victories. It also recorded a fastest lap of almost 117 miles per hour, or 188 kilometers per hour, solidifying its place in pre-war racing history.

Climbing into a vintage cockpit

Today, the valuable machine belongs to a generous private owner who lent it back to the manufacturer for the showcase in California.

Stepping into the passenger seat of this active piece of history is an intimidating prospect. There are no seatbelts, no roll bars, and no crumple zones. Safety standards of the 1920s relied almost entirely on the skill of the driver.

The mechanical layout is equally foreign to modern operators. The clutch pedal stays on the far left. But the brake and accelerator positions are completely reversed, with the gas pedal sitting in the middle and the brake pedal pushed all the way to the far right, a quirk that defined early racing machines because those cars' weak brakes were rarely used compared to the accelerator. The lever for the three-speed manual transmission lives entirely outside the bodywork, adding another layer of strangeness to an already odd setup. It's a lot to take in.

But the physical sensations of the ride are what truly shock the senses. Adam, from the manufacturer's heritage department, sat behind the wheel, and he pushed the car through its paces on the tarmac that rings the track, testing every limit of grip and suspension with a practiced, deliberate hand. The ride is firm. Incredibly bouncy, too. Passengers brace themselves by grabbing any piece of the leather-wrapped interior they can find, and it's a frantic scramble for purchase. Wind buffets your face past the tiny glass screens, and the cockpit fills with the rich smell of engine combustion mixed with the surrounding scenery. Don't expect a roaring exhaust. The dominant sound is a mechanical whine, sharp and unrelenting, emanating straight from the gearbox, and it cuts through the air with an almost surgical precision. So hold on tight.

Connecting the past to the present

It's easy to assume a century-old car feels utterly disconnected from modern performance machinery. But it doesn't. Even with its 19-inch tires and primitive suspension, the vintage racer displayed a surprising amount of cornering grip on the pavement, and the raw, visceral thrill of acceleration, the immediate, unmediated connection to the road, felt instantly familiar to anyone who's ever chased a perfect apex. That sensation transcends decades.

Like a modern supercar, particularly something with a Le Mans-winning engine, I can see how one could easily scare themselves behind the wheel if they decided to drive like an oaf.

The Bentley Super Sports barely got a chance to stretch its legs,no, wait, the brief ride likely never even touched 60 miles per hour. Yet it was electrifying. That machine left its passenger energized and thrilled in the exact same manner as a modern car, and we're not exaggerating when we say the feeling stuck long after the engine went quiet. But a century of technological progress has changed how cars achieve speed, while the emotional reward of going fast remains completely untouched. Pure.

Frequently Asked Questions

What is the significance of the Bentley Super Sports being limited to 18 units?

Between 1925 and 1927, the factory built only 18 examples of the original Bentley Super Sports. This exclusivity highlights its rarity and the special nature of the machine, which was designed to be faster, lighter, and more responsive than the standard model.

How did engineers modify the standard 3 Litre model to create the Bentley Super Sports?

Engineers shortened the wheelbase by 9.5 inches (241 mm) to reduce weight and improve agility. They also made several mechanical enhancements, including a modified 3.0-liter engine with new pistons, a lighter flywheel, increased compression ratio, different carburetors, high-speed gearing, and a tapered radiator, ensuring the car could exceed 100 mph.

Why is the car named 'Smoky' and what was its racing history?

The specific car at Laguna Seca, registration YM 4037, is nicknamed 'Smoky' due to its storied past. Its second owner, Kit Baker-Carr, installed a 4.5-liter engine from the 1928 Le Mans-winning car, and between 1935 and 1937, Smoky achieved seven victories at Brooklands, with a fastest lap of nearly 117 mph.

What unusual pedal arrangement does the vintage Bentley Super Sports have, and why?

In the vintage Bentley Super Sports, the brake and accelerator pedals are reversed: the gas pedal is in the middle, and the brake pedal is far right. This quirk defined early racing machines because their weak brakes were rarely used compared to the accelerator, making the arrangement more practical for drivers.

How does the experience of riding in a century-old Bentley Super Sports compare to a modern supercar according to the article?

Despite its age, the vintage racer provided a surprisingly familiar visceral thrill, with immediate road connection and cornering grip that felt akin to modern performance cars. The article states that technological progress has changed how cars achieve speed, but the emotional reward of going fast remains completely untouched, leaving the passenger energized just like a modern car would.