The first long run in the Caterham was early September on the Carrotland Big Blat. Organised by the chaps in the local section of the Lotus 7 club it wound its way across Suffolk and Norfolk ending up at RAF Marham. Carrotland is the slightly self-effacing name for the combined Suffolk/Norfolk area – obviously referencing its rural nature.

The start point was at Stonham Barns and being close to home and a little unsure of the format we were one of the first to arrive. We looked at the other cars arriving as they assembled and it was soon obvious that being a 1985 Kent Crossflow ours was one of the oldest cars there – and one of the few with full front wings. It’s the fashion to have the smaller cycle wings on the cars now and I’m in two minds what I prefer.

One thing that always strikes me when I see a mass of Sevens is the variety of colours, wheels, roll cages, seats etc. Given they are basically the same car (and have been since the first Lotus 7 in 1957) none are the same - there were similar cars but I could not spot an identical one. All the cars there were Caterhams though not a single Lotus. At the other end of the age scale Oliver was probably the youngest driver – so between us we captured both ends of the spectrum. We signed on – had the obligatory bacon butty and waited for the off. 

We were one of the first teams let loose and Oliver did first leg from Stonham Barns to Thwaite St Mary which was supposed to be about 60 miles. The roads first took us back South and then across East into deepest Suffolk – headed for the coast and then swerved inland again. All the roads we empty and many strait or gentry curved – excellent blatting routes thanks to the organisers. Oliver obviously enjoyed himself – even with a nervous father pointing out SLOW marks in the road. Pushing the car hard it responded with the raw energy of a highly tuned four cylinder and surprised several other drivers with its pace – not to mention the petrol/oil bouquet coming out of the howling exhaust.

The only blot was one mid-route, where an incomplete set of diversion signs saw many of us lost and circling through villages time and time again much to the bemusement of the locals and other Caterhams going in opposite directions.

Finally we hooked up with a group who had a sat-nav and some idea of where they were so we found our way back to the route. I guess we’d added 20+ miles to the leg though and an exhausted and hot Oliver was glad to get out and rest.

When we stopped for the break we talked to other blatters and how they got lost/found etc. and compared cars. We also decided to try to follow someone else on the second leg – as navigating was going to be Oliver’s job next. I took the next stint and as we swept through the country lanes pressed the car hard – listening to the mechanical engine revving you could almost hear the oil splashing on the valves and the parts turning it was so alive.

I was having so much fun that I declined the last fuel stop and ran on. However, as we approached the airbase the fuel gauge hit zero - I’d been watching the needle drop alarmingly quickly for a while as it does when it passes half empty - but I’d gambled on a bit more range. We made the base on fumes and although we asked around there was no petrol we could have on site.

A bit worried and deflated we chatted to teams over lunch, including a Father/Son-in-law couple that were bonding over the car the father having 2 uninterested daughters. Chatting we found out that people had come as far as Surrey and Wales for the blat, as well as one of the closest a chap and his wife from the next village to us in Suffolk. It was obvious that everyone had thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

We tagged on to the back of the line of cars assembling for the photo shoot in case we ran dry and as a consequence found ourselves embarrassingly in the best place in the grid of cars in front of the Tornado jet fighter.

Leaving we pottered as quietly as we could – even coasting down-hill with other Caterhams overtaking us wondering why. As we looked for the local garage the gauge went below the empty mark but we made it - to find they only sold 3 star. I decided to fill up anyway, give it a double Octane boost and drive gently back.

One thing I learned is that 180 miles is the limit with very gentle driving.

Overall it was a great turnout, with about 35 cars making it to the final destination and others joining for part of the trip. Most cars were two-up so about 60+ enthusiastic members did the run and on a mostly fine day only had to dodge the odd shower. We both enjoyed ourselves and will definitely look to join another blat next year.

Next day having got home, but full of 3* I decided to drain the tank and fill up with Super Unleaded. Using a small external fuel pump that I had bought for the Alpine I carefully pumped the fuel out using the battery charging connection as a convenient power off-take. Stupidly I then crossed the wires trying to remove the clips, welding them to the fitting in a shower of sparks. Another job on the list was to fix that.

Starting the car I also noticed it was not showing the usually very high oil pressure when cold and checking it the oil was very low on the dipstick – in fact it took several pints to top back up. So that’s one to watch after a few hundred miles of very hard driving.

One things that has troubled me since owning the car is what to call it. It is a Caterham Seven Super Sprint, but do I call it a Seven – harking back to its origins – or a Caterham ? I’d like to think that as it is one of the last S3 designed cars (Caterham re-started producing in 1974 after taking over the manufacture of the S4 a year earlier) that it is therefore a “continuation” of the Seven. However, I’m currently sticking to Caterham.