What is it like on the inside?
It’s got the engine and exposure of a motorbike, so it’s kinda best to think of this as a motorbike. Albeit one that won’t fall over if you dismount it too hastily. The interior is a bit more habitable – heated seats and phone-sized pockets show a few crumbs of modernity have been scattered in here – but it’s a pure driving experience first and foremost. Creature comforts are deliberately absent.
How do I get in?
You’ll need limber hips and cleanish shoes to successfully vault yourself over the sill (avoiding the exhaust if it’s hot) and onto, then into, the seat. That’s if ‘seat’ is the correct word – Morgan has essentially stuck a couple of cushioned pads to the inside of the 3 Wheeler’s hollowed-out-cigar bodywork, with the pedals adjusting back and forth instead. McLaren does something similar with the seats in a Senna, though, so think of it as extreme lightweighting rather than extreme laziness on the Malvern factory's part.
Those pads are decked in nicely stitched leather and provide ample comfort. Or certainly comfort relevant to the rest of the experience; you’ll be tired out by wind exposure long before your back or bum muscles start numbing.
Is it safe to assume it's cramped?
It’s certainly not big inside, but the steering wheel clicks on and off to give longer-legged folk more chance of folding their limbs into place. And as we mentioned it’s flat-bottomed, which for once in the world of modern sports cars is useful rather than a horrid marketing gimmick.
There are two simple round dials in the middle of what constitutes a ‘dashboard’ – speed and revs, nowt else – and you’ve a princely four toggle switches which operate the lights, hazards and horn. The indicators operate through a metal stalk. It’s all beautifully milled and trimmed with only the plainly designed wheel and Mazda-sourced gearstick to dull the ambience. The fly-off handbrake provides a lovely taster sample of the olden days that puts you right in the ‘positive input’ mindset from the off.
Where does my mate/partner/dog go?
Good point. It’s worth noting the P101’s extra flourish, that yellow resin tonneau cover fixed across the passenger seat. It can’t be removed or refitted in an instant, instead – like those adjustable pedals – calling on a handful of tools and a contortionist to use them. It also slightly hinders your visibility. You’ll see the front wheel on your side of the car, scything merrily through the countryside, but you’ll struggle to see its axle mate. Once you’ve fully comprehended how weeny the car is, it’ll cease to be an issue. Or you could rebuff the designers’ extravagances and just keep that cover safe in the garage…
It almost goes without saying that luggage space is basically nil, while resting your leg on the transmission tunnel will be a short-lived experience when the engine’s up to temperature and working hard. All part of the adventure though, huh?