Just Arrived

Rolls-Royce Silver Spur - FSD 807

Chassis:  09434

Fresh off the trailer — and for once doing so under its own steam rather than needing to be dragged, begged, or bribed — comes this 1984 Rolls-Royce Silver Spur.

For the uninitiated, the Silver Spur is essentially the long-wheelbase sibling of the Silver Spirit: same stately lines, same 6.75-litre V8 humming away somewhere deep beneath the bonnet, just… more of everything. More legroom, more presence, more opportunities for rear passengers to judge the driver from a respectful distance.

This one arrived wearing a shade we don’t see nearly as often as you’d think: black. Proper black. Fun-house-mirror black. A colour that simultaneously hides sins and highlights every fingerprint within a six-mile radius. It’s paired with a matching Everflex roof, giving the whole thing a sort of diplomatic-limousine-on-its-day-off look. From about twelve feet away, it’s gorgeous. From six feet, still promising. Up close? Well — let’s say the lacquer has chosen different life paths depending on which panel you’re looking at. Some areas are merely “softly matte,” others are testing the boundaries of how much flake you can lose before it counts as modern art.

Still, it photographs beautifully. Too beautifully. The camera lies, and this Spur leans into that dishonesty with confidence.

Before we even got a proper look at the paint, we opened the bonnet to check a clicking noise — only to be greeted by what appears to be half a small woodland in the engine bay. Leaves everywhere, twigs in places twigs have no business being, and something that might actually be growing out of the scuttle vents. If this car had sat for much longer, we’d be calling the RHS for an official classification.

As for the arches… they’re doing exactly what SZ-era arches do: bubbling, flaking, and quietly transforming themselves into a geological exhibit. Not unexpected, not catastrophic, but certainly enthusiastic. If corrosion were a sport, these arches would be shortlisted for nationals.

Inside, though? A different story entirely.
The light cream leather is genuinely lovely — soft, clean, and carrying just the right amount of creasing to prove someone enjoyed it without ever abusing it. No mystery stains, no claw marks, no “melted banana” discolouration. Someone clearly cared.

And then there are the folding rear picnic tables — those wonderfully unnecessary, charming bits of craftsmanship that allow rear passengers to unfold a veneer-topped table and pretend they’re about to pen a letter to the Queen rather than fiddle with a mobile phone charger. They’re in fairly decent condition too, which is more than we can say for the door cappings, whose lacquer has succumbed to the usual slow-motion tragedy that affects every Spur and Spirit eventually. Sunlight giveth; sunlight taketh away.

Outside, the car wears a set of unique hub caps only fitted to Silver Spurs from 1984 to 1989 — a small but delightful detail, and one that always makes enthusiasts nod approvingly as though they’ve spotted a rare bird. We just need to find out what happened to the fourth one.

Mechanically, it starts. It moves. It stops. It even behaved well enough to drive onto and off the trailer under its own power — though it did leave behind a polite little trail of power steering fluid to mark the occasion. Still, compared to some of its relatives, that practically counts as exemplary behaviour. We’ll be putting it through the same full round of tests we give every arrival to see what its future holds. Whether this Spur continues its life whole or becomes a very valuable donor is something our workshop team will decide once they’ve poked, prodded, and listened for any worrying noises.

But for now, it’s here — black, elegant, long-legged, and still managing to look dignified even while its lacquer quietly deserts it.

Stay tuned. This Silver Spur may yet surprise us… or it might help many others keep gliding on for years to come.