Caterham 360R: Review

Caterham has rebranded its Seven range; good excuse to take one out for a razz

I’m straining against the four-point harnesses, tracking the path of the passenger side windscreen wiper as it detaches, bounces off the bonnet and flops into the gutter. Can I really leap out, run round and grab it before the lights turn green and the fast approaching bus drives clean over me? Not a chance. But I’ve got four hours in the rain ahead of me and I’m going to need it. Somehow my desperate expression registers with the bloke walking his dog along the pavement and he reaches down, picks up the stray wiper and posts it through a gap in the sidescreen into my grateful hand. Thank you, whoever you are!

Character features like this, the rotating gearknob and a roof that blows off halfway along the M6 are the kind of things you have to deal with in a Seven. Even a brand new press car like this 360R. These are invariably dealt with a) a shrug b) Gaffa tape and zip ties c) a hammer d) all of the above. Your typical Porsche owner would probably be considering inventive applications of the same on the dealer principal of their local OPC should important parts of their 911 spontaneously drop off into the gutter. But driving a Caterham requires a more pragmatic approach to life.

2.0-litre Duratec is where things get serious

And when, as happens upon arrival at Oulton, it all comes together. Boy, it’s worth every skinned knuckle, every ringing ear and every sodden piece of clothing.

Middle ground
Time to rewind a bit though. As you’re probably aware the Caterham range has had a bit of a revamp or, to be more accurate, a rebranding. Bigger the number, faster the car, S for road-biased and R for track. That’s pretty much it, the 360 bang in the middle of the range. £26,995 starting price/£36K as tested, 2.0-litre Duratec, 182hp and performance on a par with the Supersport R or, for those with longer memories, the R300 Superlight. Both, Caterham connoisseurs would argue, commonly regarded as the sweet spots in their respective Seven ranges.

Inevitably when presented with the choice I opt for an R and then consult the track day calendar for a suitable event to live the Caterham owner’s dream. The only one that coincides with our loan is a Javelin event at Oulton. Great circuit. Bloody miles away. Wet miles in the midst of a spring storm chucking buckets of horizontal rain across the motorway in fierce 70mph gusts.

R adds all your track day kit, bar GoPro...

By the time I make our pub B&B in Tarporley snapper Tom is comfortably settled behind his Mac, fresh pint in hand and looking like the most relaxed and contented man in Cheshire. I am wide-eyed, the finger I nearly lost to the seat mechanism at an M6 toll booth is bloodied, my ears are ringing and my clothing damp. Salvation appears with the promise of a pint of Black Sheep. But when the pump elicits nothing but froth and a “sorry love, it’s off” I’m ready to weep.

Morning glory
I’d like to say things are better after a night’s sleep and arrival at Oulton the next morning. The roads there are water logged but the rain has backed off and the blow-dry effect of the gale force winds is drying the track out. But the gusts are savage and shelter is required. Not having booked a garage we cruise up and down until we find one with three Caterhams in it and plead for solidarity in return for a run to the cafe for tea. It works and I quickly rip off roof, side screens and other weather gear to prepare the Seven for the track. My fellow Seven drivers, dressed in thickly padded waterproof onesies, look on. I get the feeling I’m underdressed for what’s to come.

You can have the gear but once the day starts proper I’m fingers and thumbs. The lack of turn-in and apex cones (they’d have blown away anyway) means no join the dots assistance for learning the track. This is refreshing but slows the acclimatisation and I’m groping my way around. Every lap is different too. The standing water occupying the apex at the fast opener of Old Hall has moved a car width by the following lap, dry patches appear and disappear and the wind has dried the track in the open sections past the lake to the Shell Oils hairpin. But under the trees at Druids and Lodge it’s still greasy as hell.

I’m circulating but at such a pedestrian rate the shift lights aren’t even flickering.

Rugged and windswept
Then a dry line appears. I swallow a brave pill and the pace begins to build. I’m still cautious but the car feels more alive. And that’s the beauty of the Seven experience. You know when the engine and gearbox are warmed through because your left leg rests against them. You can smell when the tyres are up to temperature. And if the tip of the exhaust skirfs against the tarmac through Cascades you know you’re putting more load through the chassis than last lap and the pace is increasing.

The 360 is fast but entirely benign too. Torquey and muscular, this is the first rung on the ladder of serious Sevens but the engine never overwhelms the chassis. You can short shift to higher gears and ride the torque if you’re worried about traction and then as the confidence grows rev it out until the shift lights start blazing, the rev counter is heading towards 8,000rpm and the interaction between throttle pedal, wheel and cornering attitude are all beautifully telegraphed. Being forcibly wedged into the chassis of the car helps this sense of connection of course, the weight shifts and changes in direction transmitted through your hips and hands while your view of the front wheels and proximity to the rear axle means you always know intuitively what’s happening.

Wheel not the only influence on direction...

The lack of weight means even with this track-focused set-up the Caterham is soft enough to move around and you can play around with the weight distribution, loading the nose up by trailing the brakes to dial out understeer and generally exploiting the adjustability to maximise grip. Oversteer when it does happen is communicated by the change in pitch from the exhaust as the wheels spin up, the steering weight tailing off and the sense of the rear wheels starting to dictate the direction of travel. The limited-slip diff means there is huge traction out of the corners with oversteer on demand on the greasier surfaces, dealt with by an instinctive roll of the wrists through the tiny Momo wheel.

And all of it is dominated by that noise. Every blip, every additional rpm is felt physically and emotionally. There’s a six-speed option but the torque of the 2.0 means the standard five ratios are fine, the stumpy lever flicking through a positive, mechanical action that, again, underscores connection with the car.

Denial twist
There is potential for any number of very large accidents at Oulton, none of them especially appealing in a Caterham. A ’ring-like sense of denial is required as you crest sections like Clay Hill or plunge blind into Deer Leap in the knowledge that the speeds are significant and the Armco close. But this distinctively old-school and English circuit is – perhaps unsurprisingly – the perfect place for a car that matches exactly the same description.

The only problem? After this any ‘normal’ car is just going to feel utterly sanitised and dumbed down.

When it all comes together...

It’s an interesting comparison with the Zenos I’ve had recent experience of too. That car is, of course, built by people who ran Caterham and understand the Seven better than anyone. And against the normally aspirated E10 the old-stager is more intimate, charismatic and emotive. The engine helps, the Duratec muscular at low revs but able to scream up to 8K with top-end ferocity the more modern non-turbo Ford 2.0-litre in the Zenos can’t match. Playful, agile and poised the Seven is simply more fun. Which is why the turbocharged E10 S is such an important car for Zenos. In this car they have something that can equal the visceral thrill of the Seven’s performance while playing to the strengths of the Zenos’s more modern packaging, space and style. It also has real character of its own. Barely a couple of weeks have passed between my drive in the E10 S and this Seven 360R and the comparison is irresistible. A true back-to-back on the same circuit would be fascinating, especially given just £500 separates them as specced.

Certainly in this trim the Seven feels, as promised, perfectly balanced. It’s quick enough to thrill without scaring you senseless every time you go near the throttle, edgy without being unpredictable and teaches you so much about your driving the novelty never wears off. It’s not *quite* as much fun on the M6 but on a proper road and at relatively sensible speeds you get a sense of the same attributes too.

The practical sacrifices are immense. You have to know what you’re about to get the most out of it. But the Seven remains top of the pile at this kind of gig. And even after the four-hour schlep home I’m still buzzing and grinning and gabbling like a maniac.

And if a rebrand and new stickers offer more excuses for trips like this Caterham can fiddle about with its model designations as often as it likes.

Onboard lap of Oulton in the 360R here

Our thanks to Javelin Trackdays for letting us rag ‘our’ Caterham around on their Oulton Park day. See here for their calendar if you fancy joining another of their events and tell ’em we said hi!

CATERHAM 360R
Engine: 1,999cc 4-cyl
Transmission: 5-speed manual, rear-wheel drive
Power (hp): 183@7,300rpm
Torque (lb ft):143@6,100rpm
0-60mph: 4.8sec
Top speed: 130mph
Weight: 560kg
MPG: N/A
CO2: N/A
Price: £23,995 (kit)/£26,995 (factory build) before options (£36,095 factory built as tested comprising R pack of limited-slip diff, lightweight flywheel, ‘sport suspension pack’, 15-inch Orcus wheels with Avon ZZS tyres, uprated brake master cylinder, carbon dash, race seats, Momo wheel, four-point harnesses, black pack and shift lights £3,995; ventilated front discs with four-pot calipers £675; hood/side screens/etc £1,250; half hood £195; decal pack £275; carbon fibre front cycle wings £355; carpeted interior £115; heater £300; sequential shift lights £300; lowered floor £395; track day roll bar £195; non-metallic Porsche GT3 green paint £250 and OTR package* £800)