Manufacturers like to talk about 'white space' models. These are the cars which fill a void between existing variants or - ideally - romp into a wide open market position not previously exploited by anyone else. The term is far too flowery to have ever been uttered by anyone employed at Ariel, but the Nomad unquestionably fulfilled both criteria. It was very much like the Atom in appearance and construction, yet very much un-like it in purpose; that purpose being the kind of mud-based fun you could have when nowhere near a road.
To those inside the Somerset-based firm, the evolution of its exoskeletal racer was instinctive; this, after all, is a young company filled with the sort of young people who already spent their leisure time covered in dirt and dust. Making the Atom work in these conditions probably seemed like a no-brainer. But the result was, if anything, even more idiosyncratic than the car it was based - and almost entirely without a road-legal rival.
Consequently, the Nomad would likely have been a smash hit if it had turned out merely as Ariel conceived it, which is to say cost-effective and more closely related to the Atom and its existing parts bin. Happily though, being small and English and fanatical, the firm couldn't bring itself to do it without going to town. Thus you get a completely different engine - the 2.4-litre unit used in the American Honda Civic Type S - and a body that's been re-engineered with strength in mind. Then there's the much longer, tougher suspension - which you can option all the way up to WRC-grade dampers.
The result, without resorting to hyperbole, was stupendous. The Atom had been too, of course - but you really needed to be on a track to get the most out of it. With the Nomad, its genius was easily recognisable on the road because a) its trick chassis delivered a remarkably supple ride quality and b) the handling limit of its off-road tyres was much lower - making access to tyre-screeching, rear-engined/rear-drive entertainment that bit easier. And if that somehow failed to amuse you, there was always the open countryside to plaster across your grinning face.
Behind it all lay the Nomad's secret ingredient: a tangible, devil-may-care and guiltless sense of fun. Like the beach buggy it took its inspiration from, the car doesn't need to be driven quickly or even through mud for it to charm the socks off you - it's somehow hot-wired into the architecture, and pops up the minute you lay eyes on the thing. The combination has proven enormously popular, and because Ariel has remained small, English and fanatical, the waiting list for new buyers is inescapably long.
Thus the secondhand market is buoyant - and spectacularly tiny. True, its rarity even on the PH classifieds is partly to do with its makers preoccupation with reselling used examples on the Ariel website (it takes an admirably dim view of its cars being sold for more than their original list price) but we'd also like to think that it's because buying a Nomad is rather like buying a puppy, and you mistily sign up for the long haul. That makes this lonely example a worthy, if expensive, contender for adoption. It misses out on the optional supercharger (the piece de resistance) although that should in no way put you off buying one of the very best cars launched this decade.
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