Caterham Super Seven 600 review: pure untainted joy

Hang on, haven’t you reviewed this before?

Ah you’re thinking of the identical Caterham Super Seven 2000, which gets the same olde, yesteryear styling as this but a pokier 2.0-litre Ford engine hewn from the Seven 360.

The car we have here is the 600, which nabs its power and drivetrain from the humble little 170. So Suzuki’s 660cc 3cyl turbo, a mere 84bhp and a five-speed manual, but the kind of retro cues that’d let you slip into an early episode of Call the Midwife without looking out of place in post-war Poplar.

And that’s the only difference?

Pretty much. Unlike the 170 you can’t tick the box for the R pack, but most of what that gives you is optional anyway. Extras thrown in here include those body-colour 14in alloys, a lowered floor (£600), fluted leather seats (£1,000), leather side panels (£1,000) and another £1,300 of leather and carpet. Yeah, that base price of £29,990 doesn’t hang around for very long. Getting Caterham to build it for you adds another £2,595 to the bill. How good’s your DIY?

There’s a handful of exclusive (er, period correct?) colours. And you can add a limited slip diff for £1,250. But that rather misses the point of a car like this.

What, er, *is* the point of a car like this?

Good question. The 600 and 2000 seem to be Caterham’s way of appealing to those who think the standard Seven - and feel free to use some imagination here - is just too modern and future-looking. Y’know, the kind of thing you see all the time parked up at youth clubs and McDonald’s drive-thrus.

Joking aside, Caterham is simply doubling down on what makes its cars so attractive in the first place. If you’ve got something that evokes a bygone era at every turn, why wouldn’t you turn the nostalgia up to 11? Grab the rose-tinted goggles Vera, we’re going out for a jaunt.

And I reckon the 600 is the better of the two; forget big power-to-weight and punishing acceleration, this thing strips away everything that’s mundane about driving and leaves you with the good stuff. It’s pure, untainted joy. And ten grand less.

And not very quick, I bet.

I didn’t say that. On paper 0-62mph in 6.9 seconds doesn’t look like much, but when your bum’s this close to the road and the air’s attacking you from every angle… it feels jolly brisk.

My point is, it’s not about being fast. It’s about revelling in the act of driving. The sense of occasion as you drop into the seat; the immediacy of the steering; the nose-first feeling as it scythes into a corner; the wind in your hair and the sunshi-

Okay that’s quite enough.

Sorry, got carried away there. But there’s an innocence to its mechanical simplicity that you just don’t see that often any more. Two-piston front brakes and rear drums, skinny Avon ZTV tyres, rack ‘n’ pinion steering, and not a lot else. Where’s the ADAS? Where’s the reversing camera? Where’s the half-tonne battery? In another era son, that’s where.

Like the 170 the 600 is brimming with information and you sit at the epicentre of it all, batting it back with a downshift here, a correction there. The turbo chirrups every time you lift off. The short throw of the manual is purposeful and decisive. And after a couple of hours, a real workout.

Just the right amount of grip too. With only 460kg to cling on to those tyres give you the confidence to explore the car’s limits through a corner. But not at the kind of speeds that’ll give you problems with the local constabulary. Ideal.

Anything wrong with it?

Oh, tonnes. Caterham is still immune to innovation so the concept of a cupholder remains a taboo in its new Dartford HQ. The button-up roof is a royal faff. The pedal box is unusable if you’ve got big feet. The indicator makes an annoying noise. Worst of all, the sheer vibration through the frame makes the mirrors utterly pointless. So merging with traffic is mildly terrifying.

Luckily there’s something about the charming little anachronism that taps into the kindness of strangers as you chug into view. Life in the 600 is a never ending stream of smiles, waves, raised thumbs and being flashed. No, not like that. By headlights as you’re let out of junctions. Honestly.

And therein lies the real magic of Caterham’s lightest, littlest Seven. It always makes your day, and you constantly get the sense that you’re doing the same for other people too. Simply by driving past. That’s a lovely feeling on the road.

Arguably the standard 170 does all that anyway, if you want to save some dosh. But if you’ve got the means (and a tartan scarf in the wardrobe)… get one. You won’t regret it. And the rest of the world will love you for it.