Maserati GranCabrio

It starts as a murmur, low and unhurried, the twin-turbo V6 clearing its throat somewhere behind you before settling into a warm, textured idle that feels less like machinery and more like conversation. Drop the roof and that voice opens up entirely, filling the cabin with a note that's rounded rather than raw, more baritone than shriek, the kind of sound that suits a coastal road at golden hour far better than a straight line.

The 3.0-litre engine, tuned by Maserati's engineers for character as much as pace, doesn't demand to be driven hard to feel special — it rewards patience, a long sweeping bend taken at half-throttle, the automatic gearbox shifting with a softness that never breaks the mood.

Inside, the cabin hushes everything else out: wind, distraction, urgency. What's left is tailored leather warmed by the sun, chrome that catches the light without trying to, and four seats built for people who understand that arriving isn't the point.

This is a car for lingering, for lowering the visor and letting the coastline do the talking, for treating a drive the way the Italians treat lunch — as something to be savoured, not rushed.