? A year and a bit with the tiny Kei-terham
? How fun is the three-cylinder entry-level Seven?
? Read all 13 months of our daily driver blog
Month 13 running a Caterham Seven 160: the conclusion to our long-term test
I racked up 11,578 miles in my long-term Caterham over the last 13 months – and my god, every single one of them was an absolute pleasure. More than a few eyebrows were raised among friends and family when I told them what was landing on the driveway and for how long. To be honest, I had no idea what it would be like using a Seven as everyday wheels. Most, if not all owners use theirs as trackday and weekend weapons, wheeling them out when the roads are dry and the sky is blue. I would be driving it every day, no matter where I had to go or what the weather.
Such an uncompromising car calls for a lot of compromises from the driver. I had no problem slithering down into the surprisingly-spacious-once-you-are-in cabin wearing earplugs, dinky suede driving booties, a hat of sorts and a warm jacket for pretty much every journey. It seemed like a very small price to pay for the generous serving of driving pleasure that the 160 served up with every twist of its key.
For anyone brought up on driving traditional cars – you know, those with doors, and roofs and radios and insulation and electric everything – the pared-back purity of the Caterham driving experience is difficult to describe. This is a car that never feels anything but electrifyingly vibrant, as if it were hardwired into your cortex.
With just 80bhp on tap, the lightweight 490kg 160 sits at the bottom of the Seven performance ladder. By Seven standards it’s tardy, by traditional car standards it’s plenty quick, but the trick the 160 pulls is that it feels ridiculously rapid. The steering wheel is a live thing in your hands, the engine wails and howls with a ferocity that belies its capacity and output, the gearlever snicks through its gate with a beautifully mechanical precision, and the biddable chassis feels pin-sharp. Clocking on at 70mph is a sensory overload most supercars couldn’t match at twice that speed.
What also shone through on even the coldest of January days was its indefatiguable sparkiness. It always felt full of brio and effervescence, always keen to tackle any road as fast and as sideways as you dared, and then go back again and tackle it again. Despite being redlined in pretty much every gear every day, that little blown 660cc triple was surprisingly light on fuel, returning an impressive overall average of 44.1mpg for a realistic 350-mile range. A single £160 service aside, there were no other costs incurred.
We had a few gremlins over the year. The gearbox linkage needed minor fettling, the ignition barrel needed replacing, and a weeping brake line saw it out of action for a few days. Impressive, for what is ostensibly a low-volume hand-built car. All repairs were carried out under warranty.
If I had to make a wish list of improvements it would be short. No, not more power – the grunt-to-grip balance is spot on – but I’d like to have more safety equipment than a seatbelt and a rollover bar. Sevens are small, but meeting Japanese kei standards means the 160 is even smaller. In traffic, Qashqais are terrifyingly enormous, Range Rovers block out the sun, and artics feel like land-bound aircraft carriers. Anti-lock brakes, traction control and a couple of airbags would be most welcome but their development and production would probably bankrupt Caterham three times over. Pity.
During the 160’s last month in my keep I made the foolish error of finding out how much it would cost to buy it through a Caterham financial package. The thought of me handing over its keys was just too depressing to think about. Owning it was just out of reach, even wearing my most creative accounting hat, and knowing how steadfastly Caterhams hang on to their values. But one day…
So after 13 months the 160 has gone. Black armbands all round. I was genuinely upset when I handed it back. It filled me with anticipation every time I set off, and with regret every time I turned off the engine. It made every journey an event and it made me a better driver. It’s been the best motoring year of my life.
By Ben Whitworth
Month 12 running a Kei-terham: the brakes leak
Leaky brake lines have put the 160 out of action. It happened on my morning commute, when a slack-jawed TT driver ahead pulled out to pass a cyclist. Without reason or warning – clear road ahead – he changed his mind, slammed on the brakes, swung back in to the left lane, almost flattened the cyclist and caused me to undertake a heart-in-mouth emergency stop. This stressed a joint in the Seven’s brake line, resulting in a brake fluid leak, and a trailer ride to Crawley for repair under warranty.
By Ben Whitworth
Month 11 running a Seven 160: a trip to the Caterham Academy!
The Seven is a superb road car, and an even better track car, so this month I visited Castle Combe to get a taste of Caterham’s Motorsport Academy. Just over 900 drivers have passed through the academy since its inception 20 years ago, including motorsport boss Simon Lambert who competed in the first academy, won his first race and came second overall. He was such an enthusiastic Caterham owner that he went to work for the company and has been there for the last 15 years.
The Academy works so: for £23k you get a self-build road-legal track car, the requisite medical and ARDS course, as well as engineering support and race engineers for five races and two sprints throughout the year. Everything you need to go racing except skidlid, race suit and talent. What you can’t have though, is experience. The Academy only accepts absolute novices.
Sure, 23 large is low-mileage Cayman money, but in the wedged-up world of motorsport, it’s peanuts. ‘We want to be the best at affordable club racing and we’re very realistic about our position on the motorsport ladder,’ says Lambert. ‘You can’t spend your way on to the front of the grid in a Caterham – and that’s exactly the way we want it.’
The five races are 15 minutes long, which sounds ludicrously short, but from behind the novice wheel that’s a long time to be screaming into your helmet while rubbing wheelarches. And there are no prizes for race winners – just a massive knees-up at the end of each weekend to reward everyone. Very democratic.
On average three-quarters of the drivers progress to the next tier. After the Academy comes the Roadsport Race Series – 14 races over seven weekends – using the same Academy car but with chassis upgrades. Then there’s the Tracksport, Supersport and Superlight race series where the racing gets progressively more hardcore.
Driving the 160 around a sunny Castle Combe was a delight. With its modest power and waterbiscuit-thin tyres, it felt completely at home four-wheel drifting through Quarry and Camp, and wailing along Hammerdown and Dean. It was so biddable and keen, like it was having as much of a laugh as I was.
The Academy car is a Caterham Seven with 125bhp 1.6-litre Ford power. The Sigma unit drives the rear wheels through a five-speed ’box and an open diff; there are discs at each corner and the tyres are bespoke low-grip Avon CR322s.
Stepping into the Academy car wasn’t like going from korma to phaal. Yes, it felt noticeably pokier, with sharper throttle responses, but as with the 160, the immediacy, the responsiveness, the adjustability were all there in spades. It felt confidence-inspiringly secure and friendly – a perfect car for motorsport novices.
By Ben Whitworth
Month 10 running a Caterham Seven 160: it's not friendly in foul weather
My two biggest gripes about driving the 160 in bad weather are:
1) The windscreen wipers are rubbish. They’re six-inch strips of rubber that squeal and smear themselves across the pillar-box screen, and they do more to impede visibility than enhance it. Utterly at odds with the relatively high-tech heated screen.
2) The headlamps are equally pants. Two geriatric glow-worms in a pair of grimy jam jars would do a better job of lighting the road ahead. Some new wipers and those bluey high-intensity bulbs beckon.
By Ben Whitworth
Month 9 running a Caterham Seven 160: a reality check
Acceptance. There’s a lot of it to be done when you drive a Caterham every day. Much like you have to accept that a Smart ForTwo is going to be short on luggage space and big on urban agility, you have to accept the Caterham for being immense on driving pleasure but a little short in other areas. It’s quite a list.
Roof-up entry and exit calls for the complete abandonment of dignity. You need to wear narrow racing booties when driving and remember to remove them the moment you inelegantly get out for fear of looking like a twit. You have to bundle up against the cold. Luggage space is laughable. Apart from the screams of terror from your passenger, there is no in-car entertainment whatsoever. It has the turning circle of an artic. Only your driving smarts separate you from becoming a crumpled ball in a field. The headlamps of other cars seem perfectly positioned to blind you. And at speed, the cabin is like a thrash metal concert, but louder.
But to bash the Seven for any of these is to miss its point. This car dishes up such an intense, pared-back driving experience that everything else feels utterly inert and leaden. Which is why I’m happy to accept the Caterham – and all it entails – in its entirety.
By Ben Whitworth
