But for all its potency, first impressions of the CSR are that it’s surprisingly approachable. Gone is the broad, flat dashboard with a selection of dials and rocker and toggle switches. In its place comes a construction of round tubing with puffy leather inserts, better-arranged dials and switches, and two storage cubbies. It’s an option, but contributes to the extra chassis stiffness, so in reality it’s essential.
Once you’ve taken in the new surroundings, you’ll note two other distinctions. Despite its top-end urge, the motor is perfectly tractable at low revs, and the low-speed ride is good, too. The CSR has a suppleness that’s absent from other Caterhams. From the cockpit you watch the front wheels rise or fall over bumps and brace yourself for the shock to reach the body, only it doesn’t come. The CSR rides almost as well as a Lotus Elise.
It doesn’t steer like a Lotus, though, and here we find the Seven we remember. Where an Elise’s steering is light and delicate, the Caterham’s helm is heavier, faster. It’s heavier on this car than on a K-series-powered Seven, too. The Duratec is powerful, but it isn’t light.
So it’s fast, but certainly not practical. The hood might keep the interior largely dry in the rain, but is a joke to erect. Some aspects of the CSR have moved the Seven into the 21st century, but weather protection isn’t one of them. The boot’s small, too, and that interior, although novel, has welds that don’t look attractive, while the lower tubes dished out a few knee bruises. And at £1250 it’s an expensive option.
Which brings us on to the CSR 260’s biggest problem: the price. A basic CSR 260 costs £37,000 if Caterham builds it, £34,500 if you do it yourself. Then there’s paint at £795, or £1100 for metallic. And those carbon seats? Lovely, but they cost £1200. Aerofoil front suspension arms are very cool, but should be for £500. And that limited-slip differential is £750. Caterham is asking a lot of money for this car.