Caterham Seven review

The inside of Caterham’s little car is basic and can be described as classic. Flat dash, dials, wheel, pedals. It’s tight in there (albeit slightly less so if you option the wide-body ‘SV’ chassis and the lowered floor) and not comfortable. The roof is a horror. A fabric toupee that’s a nightmare to fit, so you leave it off and roll it in the back just in case it starts hailing.

Otherwise, just suck it up, and if it rains then drive faster. The doors are removable and either left in the garage (if you have a companion) or slid into the passenger footwell (if you don’t) to give you a direct hit of whatever is going on around you.

In winter you’ll slow-roast your left thigh against the transmission tunnel while getting frostbite from the gaps in the fabric doors. There is a two-stage heater though, and it does its best in a losing battle. There’s not much more to it than that.

And once you've posted yourself in?

The dash is simple; you get a speedo, rev counter and oil, water and fuel gauges. Some of them might actually work, while in the retro cars they’re old-fashioned-style Smiths gauges. A Moto-Lita steering wheel is standard in the Super Sevens; a Momo one in the rest of the range.

If you haven’t gone for the larger chassis and you’ve feet larger than a UK size nine (roughly) you’ll need to invest in a good pair of slim driving shoes that don’t make you look like a *redacted*. The pedals are tight and close together in all Sevens, which is a dream for heel and toe action once you get used to them. 

Worth remembering that S pack cars come with softer, slobbier leather seats with standard belts, while the R pack adds a carbon fibre dash and ultra-slim composite bucket seats with a small amount of padding and four-point harnesses. Call us crazy, but we actually find the latter incredibly comfortable. In a smartphone world, the Seven is the equivalent of two tin cans joined by a piece of string. 

Anything else to note?

Your final battle is with the temperamental immobiliser. On the key is a little black talisman that decides your fate – that is, whether or not you will make your planned trip. With the ignition half turned, you have to wantonly wag this little plastic pebble under the dash towards a mysteriously unmarked ‘thing’ in the abyss that’ll let you start the car.

When you’re least expecting it, the peppy engine will fire into action and you’ll be overcome with elation. Then you can get on your way... at least 10 minutes after you planned to.

Some TG staffers describe these quirks as “characterful”. Others just say they’re massive pains in the backside. That’s why a little Caterham is still as mighty as ever.