Normally when the word ‘convertible’ is mentioned the word ‘compromise’ is lurking around in the background somewhere. Chopping the roof off a car often means a loss of rigidity, an increase in weight to compensate, and a softer, less focused product. Hell, even a sunroof is frowned upon if you want a serious race/track day car. But the sun has briefly shown its face outside PH Towers today and I don’t feel like attacking the first bend I come to at ten tenths, tongue hanging out of the corner of my mouth, twisted expression as I try not to stick a 300bhp rally refugee into a hedge. I want to relax, get some sunshine and hopefully a bit of a tan. It’s time to get a convertible for a few days. I’ve got a few jobs to do, some places to go, so I’ll need something reasonably sensible, one of the new breed of folding hard tops perhaps.
But for some reason high-class German drop tops seem to be in short supply during summer. Fearing that as is usual with a British summer an apocalyptic monsoon is just around the corner, I’m getting desperate. Then it happens, one of those rare pieces of luck. An email from Richard Tanner at Caterham Cars drops into my inbox. A while ago we were talking about getting me into one of their cars and a 150 Roadsport has just become available. Not what I had in mind but, hey, it doesn’t get much more convertible than that – the roofs rolled into a ball in the boot. Admittedly I am supposed to be going shopping, out for dinner, possibly to the cinema and to a few meetings, but it can’t be that impractical, can it? Then Richard phones and says the 150 has been double-booked but I can have the R400 Superlight instead. This is what happened…
THURSDAY.
"Press this and hold on..."
It’s funny how Caterham is actually based in er, Caterham. There can’t be many car manufacturers that exist inside the M25 too. As I pull into the front of its premises there it is – a neon green R400. It looks smaller than your average Caterham and quite insane, it couldn’t be any more lairy if it tried. This should be interesting. Sales director Andy Noble gives me a run-through of the controls before I’m strapped into the raw carbon seat and away I go, face-to-face with Chihuahuas as I roll down the high street.
5pm. BRANDS HATCH. Arrive at Brands Hatch for a PH Track Day, ears ringing, hair like Don King, smiling from ear-to-ear. Ironically I can’t take the Caterham on to the track and so transfer into the Scooby for a thrash, then jump into the R400 for the night time drive back. This is where I can open it up for the first time. Now, I’m sure these cars are great tools for twisty B roads but right now I can’t imagine anything as much fun as blasting from 50mph to 70mph(ish) down the M25 in the darkness. The acceleration is mind-blowing, unrelenting and explosive – hood down and baking hot from the engine, eardrum shattering exhaust releasing the sound of all 8,000 revs per minute. This is something everyone should do at least once in their life.
Motorways a blast in the Caterham
Park outside a restaurant and meet friends. What is it about cars like this that means you can stick them on double-yellows with less fear of getting nabbed? So I do it. Driving home and the neon paint job doesn’t feel so welcome - at this time of night I'm getting a bit sick of people pointing and staring. I’m tired and putting the roof up for the night feels like a chore, but it isn’t. Safely up I remove the steering wheel and walk away. I turn around wondering if this is the last time I’ll see the Caterham.
FRIDAY
8am. CLAPHAM. It’s still there. I’m surprised and relieved – the train station is miles away. Driving into work through the smog and gridlock the unwanted attention is, well, unwanted and a stereo seems like it would be a worthwhile few kg. You save money on coffee though – by the time I get to work the experience of getting there is like having three espressos.
Do performance cars get any different?
The thing with the Caterham is it only takes a few minutes rest before you want to jump back in and charge down the road again. Suffice to say when I have to drive a 70 mile round trip to Basingstoke to have a go in our PH Hero Bentley Turbo R – surely a form of transport couldn’t be any more different? – I'm more than happy. But on the way back it starts to rain. No power hood here and when the rain starts to settle on the inside of the screen I have to stop. Putting the roof up is relatively easy but I fear that I may have forgotten to tighten part of it up. It’s cosy but much, much louder inside (there was me thinking it would lower the volume) and as I hurtle down the M3 the roof decides to un-pop itself from the rest of the car. Luckily the roof resists tearing off completely and I make it back. Oh, and when it rains the Caterham goes from being a very fast car to a very slow one – as Noble says it will ‘spin very easily in the wet’.
7pm. WINDSOR. I head out to Windsor to meet some friends. I realise the wider ones won’t fit. Make sure you have thin friends if you want to drive one of these every day. By the time I get there a few roundabouts have taught me that the Caterham can go sideways with no problems at all. Second gear as you exit and floor it, the rear comes round and can be caught easily with the tiny steering wheel. It’s great fun and goes to show that even in an incredibly fast car like this you can have fun at low speeds. Oversteer to and from work? Yes please…
SATURDAY
No need for security - just remove wheel
Got to get the Caterham, three bags, a Frisbee, a football and myself and my brother from Egham to South London - this seems like the first real test. Four-point racing harnesses seem like overkill for a two-hour trudge through west London. Luckily it’s not raining, but it’s hot. Too hot. The Caterham’s 2.0-litre lump chucks out more heat than a Turkish bath and after a few miles it is unbearable. In fact the only way to combat it is to go fast - very fast. Blasting down the M4 gives us a force 9 gale to blow the heat temporarily out of the cockpit. But if this sounds like a moan, it’s not. The sun is out, two people in a street legal track car, opposite lock out of any bend you want and a power to weight ratio that means we can take on anything. One of the best ways to pass the time in an R400 is to scare your passengers and I can confirm that men can scream as loud as women…
12pm. CLAPHAM. We arrive laughing. The R400 really is like nothing else I’ve ever driven. My back is dripping with sweat and I need some Nurofen but it’s such a deliciously simple way of getting around it just makes a perverse sense. The boot is a reasonable size as well and swallowed everything. The car gets a rest while I head off to a London festival. I look back and wonder if it is the last time I will see it.
SUNDAY
Power to weight ratio takes a kicking
There’s no food in the house so it’s time to go shopping. Normally my Impreza would be perfect for the job but the Caterham doesn’t seem so suited. Harness aside it is refreshingly easy to jump in and out of the car (quite literally sometimes) and nice not to have to lock it when you leave. The shopping fits in, but it’s less than I would normally have, and I head home.
4pm. BRIXTON. I promised a friend I would visit her art exhibition which is one of many set up on a street in Brixton. As I pull up, still feeling slightly hungover, there are hundreds of people milling around, no doubt talking about endangered pigmy elephants in the Amazon. A growling bright green sports car seems to draw quite a lot of attention and I sink into my seat. But instead of booing it and throwing vegetarian fajitas, people smile and take pictures and point.
6pm. BRIXTON. I pick up the other half in the ‘green monstrosity’ as she puts it (she likes it really) and head out for dinner as promised. It makes an interesting steed to go out for dinner and not the most elegant car to enter or exit. We keep it simple and go for a Jamaican meal. Diners turn and stare as I attempt to park outside, which can be tricky even without an audience, and we casually walk in as if we didn’t just get out of such a bizarre automobile. On leaving I have to field questions from the waiters – so much for a quiet, intimate meal.
MONDAY
Economy surprisingly good - sometimes
I love the Caterham but the enthusiasm to jump into it to, say, drive to work is starting to wane a little. It’s fine once you get into it, fun in fact, but it’s like going to the seaside, you can’t be bothered to go in the sea even though it’s fun when you’re in.
7pm. BALHAM. I take a friend out in the car and he loves it. I’m becoming more and more confident behind the wheel, casually flicking it sideways here and there. Too confident I would guess and when I get home my head spins while trying to get to grips with what I was doing. It’s a great car to learn more advanced driving techniques, as long as you do it safely of course, and I feel like I’m a better driver for having borrowed it.
TUESDAY
I have that now familiar surprise of seeing the car in the morning in one piece, or in fact at all. This morning I’m wearing a suit and heading to the British Motor Show for press day. I must look a bit of a sight all dressed up in a Caterham. The first part of the journey – from Clapham to Greenwich – is fine and then I come across the mother of all traffic jams. We move about 200 yards in an hour in the run-up to the Blackwall Tunnel and all I have is the tinny sound of my phone playing MP3s next to me, like a teenager on the back of a bus. I crawl into the tunnel and out the other side, starting to feel more and more light headed. When I finally arrive at ExCel I feel awful having sucked up fumes for two hours. My back is soaked from sweat and I feel flustered, but at least I made it.
7pm. EXCEL. Funnily enough leaving the show I am looking forward to getting in the R400. After a long and stressful day it seems like the perfect way to blow out the cobwebs. It is. Driving home through the city I can’t help grinning. It’s so much fun when you are in the mood. Revitalising even. I get home happy and relieved of the days pressure.
9am. CLAPHAM. The Caterham’s there, in its side street. I peel off the roof but I feel fed up. This is going to sound corny but it feels like we’ve been through a lot together. In ‘normal’ cars you don’t tend to notice them, they do their job quietly and efficiently, with minimal fuss. With the Caterham you’re in it together. If it rains you get wet. If you’re unhappy it will cheer you up. It can make people smile and it can make them scream. The car has character and when you treat it right it rewards you. When you get somewhere you feel satisfied, like you’ve achieved something – it was an adventure.
As I blast down the M25 towards Caterham I feel like just driving on past junction 6 and going anywhere. For one last time I squeeze the loud pedal and don’t even look at the speedo. The Caterham crackles off the limiter, the acceleration becoming more intense the more revs you ring out of it, daring you to hold down the accelerator down a moment longer. Hood down, grinning, being buffeted all over the place, ears ringing, the road becoming a blur in front of me. The Caterham is an intense, hardcore, mind-blowing experience. And today I wouldn't have it any other way.