Project Petrolhead

I thought I knew what I was getting into with the Morgan Plus Four. I thought it was going to be a slice of olde-worlde nostalgia in disguise as a modern car. The sort of thing a gentleman of a certain age can spend his retirement years pootling around the Cotswolds in before pulling into a Victorian pub for a room-temperature pint and a bag of peanuts.

I was wrong.

After just a few hundred yards, I knew exactly what type of car the Plus Four is; It’s a Caterham for people who don’t want to sacrifice their comfort for performance. Everything is heavy, the steering, the pedals (the clutch is so heavy that when I first got in, I thought I was pressing the brake) everything except the car itself, that is. At just 1013kg, the Morgan weighs less than the featherlight Alpine A110, and it feels like it, skipping over imperfections in the road and darting around the twisty, narrow lanes of the Malvern hills. And then, there’s the engine.

Even in Comfort mode, the BMW-sourced 2.0 litre turbo whooshes and flutters like a five-grand Impreza. Knock it up to Sport Plus and you’re treated to a barrage of downright antisocial pops and bangs every time you lift off the throttle. 255bhp might not sound like a huge amount, but not only is it a tad more than the aforementioned Alpine, it’s enough to get the Morgan to 60mph in 5 seconds, and on past 140mph. Torque on the other hand is a very impressive 350nm that allows for kidney-squeezing acceleration all the way up to the national speed limit, despite the fact that the gears are so long that you rarely ever use fifth gear, and sixth is completely off the table unless you’re on the motorway. Instead, use the short, knuckley gear shift to row between third and fourth, whooshing and banging through the countryside like an ASBO in a tweed jacket.

Grip is good, with the 205-section rear tyres never feeling overwhelmed by the chunky power delivery, and the lighter 4-cylinder engine makes turn-in sharp and precise, with the added bonus of you being able to see exactly where your wheels are at all times, given that they’re only three feet away. Actually, that brings me onto the biggest (or rather, smallest) issue with the Plus Four: It’s tiny.

At 5’10” (or 6’0” if I’m on Tinder) I’m not particularly tall, but even I struggled to get along with the miniscule cabin. The top-half of the door (which is removable) means there’s nowhere to rest your elbow, The steering wheel was sawing into my thighs the entire time, in fifth gear the aluminium gear knob prodded awkwardly into my left knee, the pedal box is roughly big enough for one adult human foot, and the sharp metal frame of the folded-down hood made itself nice and comfortable impaled in my right armpit. The best way I found to actually ingratiate oneself into the half-scale cabin was to drop the roof, push the seat as far back as it’ll go, slide the adjustable steering column as far forward as it’ll go, step both feet over the wide running boards and then snuggle down into the comfy leather seat, making sure to close the door before you belt up, or you’ll have to do what I did in the Morrison’s petrol station and deploy the old gun-it-in-first-and-catch-the-door-as-it-slams trick.

Aside from it’s sheer smallness, the cabin is beautifully appointed, with soft, waxy leather coating most of the surfaces, and beautiful exposed ash making up whatever is left. Considering the outside of the car looks like something from the industrial revolution, I was expecting the cabin to be as sparse as a nudist’s wardrobe, but there’s a handy digital readout for gear and speed, air-con (very useful in the height of July), and a built-in Bluetooth speaker, allowing you to stream your music directly to the car’s impressively clear Sennheiser Hi-Fi, all justifying the car’s hefty £65,000 list price.

The best thing I can say about the Morgan Plus Four, or any Morgan for that matter, is that there’s absolutely nothing else on the road quite like it. People respond well to it, waving, asking questions, letting you out of junctions, and giggling as it burps away from the lights. You could say that a Boxter is more practical (it is, the Morgan doesn’t even have a boot), or that an F-Type is faster, but neither of those cars are as timeless, as rare and as people-pleasing as the plucky little Morgan Plus Four.