Caterham Seven - The Snow Holds No Fears

The snow holds no fears for a Seven shod with winter tires.

When to end a winter tire experiment in the UK? That question has been rattling around in my head for a month or so - ever since mother nature decided to pull up the hemline of winter to reveal spring-style sunshine in day-long glimpses.

In the rest of northern Europe, the need to run winter rubber tends to have lapsed by April, but given that the veil of winter can be pulled back over our island at pretty much any time, it’s harder for us to decide whether it’s too soon yet to switch back to the Seven’s usual summer Avons.

The snow holds no fears for a Seven shod with winter tires.

To all those who didn’t fit winter tires to their Caterham (in other words, everyone else on the planet), such a quandary might seem trifling, but the softer Avon rubber has had a seismic effect on the Supersport’s delicate handling balance.

One way to look at it would be to say that they’ve ruined it. Replacing Avon’s form-fitting CR500s with the bigger, chunkier tread has been like substituting Rudolf Nureyev’s ballet pumps for hobnail boots. The poise is fudged and the clarity of intuitive feedback discernibly muddied.

But much worse than that, in the temperate conditions that prevailed during much of December, the Ice Touring tires simply weren't given the right operating parameters on which to chew. With the needle showing 7deg or 8deg C (the needle in my house, that is; the Seven can’t even tell you the time), a slippery sheen of perpetual damp on the deck and nothing but my Christmas waistline to push it more firmly on to the road, the Seven moved around like a kitten on mahogany. Roiling fear of the hedgerow and ditch is an unwelcome sensation to come to terms with in the Supersport’s skin-thin body, and for a while I coped with it by driving in a permanent huff. I’d also find faults with the car’s interior that I’d never cared to even notice before.

The other way to judge it is by the amount of chuckling I eventually started to do. A patent lack of traction may have been terminal for the car’s savage, pin-your-ears-back turn of pace, but it also meant that every empty roundabout in the kingdom graduated from a source of potential amusement to a merry-go-round of opposite lock.

Even on summer rubber on a dry- baked day, the Super sport (aided by its standard limited-slip diff) can be coaxed sideways, but it requires a fair dose of speed and a prod to unhinge it. In Ice Touring spec, in the rain, it politely under steers and then, with a sniff of throttle, effortlessly slides towards your chosen exit at walking pace.

As a result, my inner child has now taken emphatic ownership of the Caterham’s reins. The unofficial time attacks down country lanes have been replaced by lazy, languid trips up and down A-roads in the hunt for another roundabout to inspect at right angles.

So intoxicating has this change of mindset been that, had it failed to snow in the South East, my recommendation for swapping your Avons would be based almost solely on the idea that it’s a surprisingly cost-effective (if you exclude the alloy wheel swap) way of not having to pay to go on one of Caterham’s drift days. However, it did snow - heavily, in fact and after digging and defrosting for a good half an hour, I gave the Ice Touring quartet their solitary opportunity to shine.

They seized it. Winter rubber on top of a proper flurry is always a good way to marvel at the transformative capabilities of a humble tread pattern, but in a Seven, with the roof off, the effect was positively other-worldly. There was no drama or protests; it simply worked, even on the steep, unpaved track up to my house - an obstacle that has foiled any number of more practical cars.

Their softer compound continued to function proudly in the days of slush and ice that followed, offering comparatively more grip than they’d managed when the ground was unfrozen. It goes without saying that the sight of a Seven out and about was greeted with widespread incredulity, but the experiment seemed to make more sense than ever.

Unlike the multitude of SUVs also lumbering around in the snow, the Seven didn’t need four-wheel drive to get where it was going, and it didn't need sophisticated traction control to make it feel safe, simply because any loss of grip at sensible speeds is so well telegraphed, so incredibly early, that you respond to it in a split second with the necessary adjustments. In fact, if the Caterham offered slightly more convenient shelter from the polar wind (and space for something else besides one more person). I could happily have spent any number of weather-warning days in it.

Hopefully, if my research has paid off, those will be few and far between now that March is here, and so, with the prescience of a Surrey-based Theophrastus, I’ve stuck my thumb in the air and decided that it’s back to British summer time for the Seven. I’m certainly looking forward to getting the old dynamic back for more demanding days ahead, but I shall also miss the zany, festively plump Avons much more than I ever expected to.

Ice Touring tires have put a smile on Cackett’s face.

Half roof makes entry and exit less tricky.

Come snow (left) or shine, the Seven is fun.

A Seven’s roof is at its very best when not in use.

Improved ride

Improved ride

Meatier profile of the winter tires has smoothed out the Supersport’s rather insistent ride quality.

Phone Holder

Phone Holder

Inadvertently, Caterham has given the Seven the perfect phone cradle, alongside the handbrake.

Snow Business

Snow Business

The bigger wheels gave the Super sport a chunkier look - appropriate for its off-piste use.

Dead heat

Dead heat

It has amazingly effective heater vents, but they only point at your legs, so your hands and face freeze.

Stubborn rattle

Stubborn rattle

There’s a rattle behind the steering wheel. No amount of prodding or banging has alleviated it