Door safely operated, the rest of the BladeGlider welcome procedure is a doddle. There’s no sill to step across, just a narrow apron of floor to the front and centre of the driver’s Recaro bucket, flanked by identical passenger seats behind each of the driver’s shoulders, settled atop the battery housing.
The diminutive, Alcantara steering wheel presents itself, complete with F1-esque data readout, with reach and rake adjustment. With no left/right-hand-drive compromise, the driving position could not be more perfect.
The seat is low and supportive, the drilled pedals central and begging to be left-foot braked. The steering wheel is spot-on for thickness and size, and with the visor screen’s pillars draped behind the driver’s eyeline, my attention is focused fully forward almost as if there’s a set of crosshairs painted on the screen. The view plays tricks on your brain: the narrow, tapering nose and diving wings exaggerating the sense of perspective.
You’ve heard of cars that look like they’re doing a hundred sat still. The BladeGlider, sucking the horizon toward its snout, feels like it’s covering twice that while I’m clipping the belts together.