It feels like a very long time since we've been blessed with a CSR. Caterham has supercharged the Seven, tried three cylinders in a Seven and made new Sevens sound a lot like old ones in the past decade or so, but (in the UK at least) the CSR has remained off the books for a good while. Its return, in the form of this 20-unit special edition, is exciting - this is the Seven Holy Grail, after all.
As you’re on PH, you probably know plenty already (no doubt a few of you own one), though a brief reminder just in case. The CSR upgrade was an attempt in the mid-'00s to modernise the Seven for the 21st century, and the most significant manifestation of that refresh was independent rear suspension. Additionally, the aerodynamics were overhauled as well, with the front suspension moved inboard and even the wheel arches squared off to benefit airflow. The chassis was more torsionally rigid as well. All for a fairly small weight penalty, and while retaining every element that made all Sevens so joyous. The CSR represented a more sophisticated Seven, yes, but a no less thrilling one. First paired with a rip-snorting 260hp Cosworth 2.3, moreover, it was an instant Caterham icon. Which is why £40k is still needed for one nearly 20 years later.
A shame, then, that the return of the CSR at twice that money doesn’t look tremendously special. There’s always a lot of debate and discussion about limited edition specs - think how perfectly those Sprints and Super Sprints turned out - so it feels like the Kinetic Grey or Dynamic Silver Twenty is a bit of a missed opportunity. A bolder colour could have shown off the carbon and black badges better; as with almost every car painted the colour of a breezeblock, it’s hard to get too excited (even when the driving experience promises so much). While the CSR mandates a larger wheel, Caterham is yet to make a 15-inch wheel design that suits the Seven. The configurator says that a custom colour is possible, which almost feels like a get-out for offering such plain paint as standard.
The interior is an improvement on a standard Seven, if still a little way from the claim of “a level up from what we’ve produced before thanks to an array of high-quality materials used throughout”. Like those companies that want to charge £60 for flip flops, there’s no escaping the fundamental architecture, however lavish the marketing message. The new CSR Twenty seats are nice, as is some extra leather and carbon on the dash, though it’s hard still not to feel a tad shortchanged given the fairly rudimentary nature of the rest. Even details like the plaque, which is between the seats where it’s not seen rather than on a dash that could be spruced up, don’t sit quite right. Obviously buying a Seven for its interior ambience is like drinking eight pints of Guinnness for the nutritional benefit, but it’s hard not to think that a car nearer £70k without deeper pile carpeting or a premium leather tunnel top might have been an easier sell.
It won’t be a surprise to learn that a lot of those concerns melt away within about five revolutions of the Toyo R888Rs. You don’t so much drive a Seven as conduct it, welcoming each and every element of the orchestra to exactly the level desired for whatever you want to happen. Even after a long time away from that little saucer of a steering wheel, a Seven requires precious little acclimitisation: the driver can see every extremity, hear every rev, feel every degree of extra lock. It might be said driving a Seven is like riding a bike, such is the intuitiveness - if two wheels without an engine could ever be this much fun.
The adapted suspension undoubtedly makes a profound difference to the Seven experience. Even with very similar, very modest dimensions to a standard car, it feels like an extra long wheelbase, super wide track Seven, such is the composure, stability and maturity with which it can tackle a B road. It’s an odd experience, truth be told, with so much of the environment familiar; sat in a Seven with your bum scraping the floor, there’s an expectation that certain bits of road will disturb or deflect it, only for the obstacle to be overcome and progress to continue unabated. Which works wonders for confidence, knowing the Seven has the sophistication to properly manage lumps and bumps rather than merely tolerate them. Especially as, of course, every single control can’t help but share everything about what exactly is going on.
Don’t mistake a more capable Seven for a less thrilling one, either, because this remains a car the size and weight of a wardrobe with more than 200hp. With a good amount of recent experience in the turbocharged, supercharged and 1.6-litre Sevens, it’s a joy to be reminded what a silly sweet spot the plain old Duratec is. Perhaps the sound now feels a tad harsh after the evocative gurgle of the throttle-bodied cars, but there’s no arguing with the gorgeous throttle response, mighty appetite for revs (all the way to nearly 8,000rpm!) and rampant speed. If a Caterham is about the ultimate in driving purity, there remains nothing to match natural aspiration.
It’s a shame that only a five-speed ‘box could make it to the Twenty. Not only would it be nice to have half a dozen ratios to rev out more freely (second will take the CSR to 70 here), there is again the cost to think about - £80k for five speeds looks a bit mean. Might a sequential, like the 420 Cup, have been more persuasive? Hard work on the road, perhaps. And it’s probably daft to grumble too much about the five-speed when the shift action could hardly be more perfect. Just don’t forget your slenderest slippers - that extra carpet in the footwell might make the pedals more cramped than ever…
Hopefully it says a lot of the Seven’s innate appeal that, even with the reservations around price and spec - plus the smaller matter of summer track Toyos and three degrees ambient - the Twenty remains one of the great experiences on four wheels. The more sophisticated suspension lends it some additional ability, without detracting one bit from the immediacy and intoxication that’s defined the Seven for half a century. The limits are understandably quite low at the end of November in the UK, though nowhere near as hopeless as might be expected, and there’s such satisfaction from interacting and collaborating with a sports car that speed becomes a secondary concern. It’s just you, 210hp, two driven wheels and an independent rear end doing as you wish. And it feels absolutely fantastic.
Being brutally honest, though, it’s hard to say that the Twenty feels a whole lot more fantastic than the conventional Seven on which it’s based. Always the problem when working with such an absorbing foundation While it’s impossible to deny the plusher enjoyment on offer from a better suspended Seven, the rawness of a standard car is what often appeals to so many. Probably a back-to-back between standard and CSR would really highlight the advantages and why the premium is asked. Nevertheless, it’s difficult to imagine this representing something like £30k more entertainment than a 420R (assuming a few options on top of a £42k asking price).
If a Seven can even be assessed in vaguely rational terms, of course; the retro limited editions were a heck of a lot more than a regular 160, yet sold out in no time, because people loved them. Those who have always yearned for the CSR experience can now get it again in a new, right-hand-drive Caterham, with limited edition fairy dust sprinkled on top. So it’ll probably always be worth something near £80k, if Seven residuals are anything to go by. Yet still the impression lingers that this money should buy something even more special.
SPECIFICATION | CATERHAM SEVEN CSR TWENTY
Engine: 1,998cc four-cyl
Transmission: 5-speed manual, rear-wheel drive
Power (hp): 210@7,600rpm
Torque (lb ft): 150@6,300rpm
0-60mph: 3.6secs
Top speed: 136mph
Weight: 560kg
MPG: TBC
CO2: TBC
Price: £79,995
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