Driving quickly has never been easier. With the aid of an array of algorithms married to precise engine management, sensors everywhere, active suspension, and brakes that can be individually applied by software, almost anyone can drive a modern performance car at incredible speeds.
Technology has taken over from talent. Except at Caterham Cars, where you’ll find no trace of driver aids whatsoever. The driving experience is utterly unadulterated, completely involving, and in the case of the most powerful Seven 620S, quite unhinged.
Most of the credit goes to the dry-sump, two-litre Ford Duratec engine to which the comedians at Caterham have fitted a supercharger. Cue 310 bhp at 7,700 rpm and 219 lbft of torque at 7,350 rpm. Neither of these numbers is as important as its 610 kg weight, however.
The five-speed manual transmission is based on the Mazda MX-5’s, and there’s a mechanical limited-slip differential. You’ll find double wishbone suspension up front and a De Dion rear end with adjustable sport dampers, and vented discs with four-piston callipers behind 13-inch lightweight alloy wheels wearing Avon ZZS tyres.
Caterham claims a 0–60 mph time of 3.44 seconds and top speed of 149 mph. The data does not tell the whole story, though . . .
Today’s quickest cars are a cinch to get going: Simply engage launch control, stand on both pedals, release the left and then hang on while the computers do the work and fire you forward like a bullet.
Launching a Caterham of this calibre is like being inside the bullet casing itself. Set the revs, drop the clutch, and the proverbial firing pin engages, triggering an instantaneous explosion all around you. The rear tyres ignite, the engine revs soar, and only then are you ejected from the barrel toward the horizon. Snatching second gear in that fraction of a second between the shift lights going full Christmas tree and hitting the limiter is almost impossible in the chaos, as the rear wheels keep smoking all the way to the change to third. It’s equal parts hilarious and terrifying.
Specs: 2024 Caterham 620S
- Price: £58,490 base (£65,615 as tested)
- Powertrain: 2.0-litre supercharged four-cylinder, five-speed manual transmission
- Horsepower: 310 bhp @7700 rpm
- Torque: 219 lbft @7350 rpm
- Layout: Rear-wheel drive, two-seat roadster
- Kerb weight: 610 kg
- Fuel economy: 25 mpg (estimate)
- 0–60 mph: 3.44 seconds
Applying full throttle at any point in first gear also results in immediate Avon evaporation, so to drive the 620S on the road with any semblance of sanity means short-shifting. The Seven’s power delivery is quite unlike that of any supercharged car I can recall. There’s an initial linearity but as soon as you hit 5,000 revs it simply goes ballistic.
Being a ridiculously low-slung, open-cockpit, thrash metal-soundtracked poop-inducer, the sense of speed is heightened as all five senses are assaulted. (I’m counting the taste of the flies in my teeth, along with the smell of roasted rubber, the noise, the scenery blurring by and the firm grasp on the steering needed to apply continuous correction as the diff fights for traction).
The Seven’s performance goes far beyond the straight-line. I’d normally keep any go-kart analogies at arm’s length, but you won’t experience the kind of feedback and directness offered by the tiny quick-release Momo steering wheel anywhere else. There’s less than two turns lock-to-lock, but direction changes can also be enhanced with the right pedal. A little lift to transfer weight forward then a prod of the throttle and the Seven rotates enough to exit your bend of choice with a half-turn of opposite lock. It is a beautifully balanced little thing.
The car’s petite dimensions also mean that there’s more room on the road to manoeuvre than in just about any other car, while the minuscule mass means shedding speed happens instantly.
On the subject of small, you can also opt for a slightly wider SV chassis, but I fit just right into the standard width, my dimensions matching the optional carbon seats perfectly. Many will find the pedal box too tight, but with my narrow Converse Chucks I find it easy to heel-and-toe, aiding downshifting of the delightful short-throw Mazda ‘box.
The interior is very basic, but the aircraft-style toggle switches on the carbon dash look and feel great. Should you need protection from the elements, there’s a full hood (which is an acquired skill to fit) and a heater – although given the tremendous temperature generated by the engine and exhaust, I can’t imagine ever needing it.
What you will need is ear protection and a gas station loyalty card if you’re going to cover any distance. I find that noise-cancelling headphones work a treat, allowing me to have a little background music, and navigation instructions for the 150 miles between fill-ups (the tank is a mere 32 litres).
With options, my pretty-in-pink (Rosso Targa to be precise) test car weighs in at £65,615, and pound for pound that’s quite a reach. But when you consider the bang per buck, it’s a different story. To achieve this level of performance on the road or, more wisely, on the track, you’d realistically need to shell out over £100,000 more for a Porsche 911 GT3.
Maybe it’s not so mad after all.
