Going back to the ‘60s and ‘70s, British-made pocket rockets on our roads were commonplace – low-slung, little things that had no qualms with letting others come along with the frills. Some might call them ‘roller skates with arches.’ For Lotus, founder Colin Chapman’s philosophy of “simplify, then add lightness” was always in pole position.
When B-Roads were still king, raw numbers were irrelevant. It was all about the feeling through the wheel, and the transfer of weight through the curves as you stepped out the back end – a feeling brought from the track, and tinkering in the pits: an era, when, in this league, there was little difference between the car you put toe-to-toe with chequered flag, and the car you drove home. These were true baby siblings of the F1 screamers driven by legends.
As time’s gone by, regulations have tightened, and things have changed. As too have what customers look for in their sports cars – refinement and usability are the words des jours when it comes to truly viable offerings.
This is where Emira comes in.
I deliberately chose not to look at the spec sheet of the car I was using before it arrived with me, deciding to take it all in when I sat inside and started it up. This isn’t the first time I’ve met one of these. A few months back, David, who dropped off the car and walked me through, was also the one who sat beside me while I took one on the marque’s test track in Hethel, Norfolk, which is overlooked by the factory where these cars are made. In some ways, you could say that I was experiencing this machine in reverse, but I was looking forward to considering the details.
20 years ago, you could’ve never imagined a Lotus this plush. Inside, everywhere you touch is soft. Alcantara isn’t just on the steering wheel, but lines the roof. The tan seats are a personal favourite of mine, and something I’d definitely tick if I was let loose with the order form at the dealership. On this example, I was treated to the optional 10-speaker KEF system (of which I put to great use with my house tracks, alongside a good dose of all this pop that’s been our sound of the summer – not embarrassed in the slightest). My brother and I have long agreed that if the glass in the mirrors isn’t shaking, it ain’t loud enough, honey. That’s symptomatic of being brought up during the height of MAX Power culture and the gathering of ludicrously modded french hatchbacks. There’s CarPlay, air lumbar support, electric adjustment, a rear camera (a must, because there’s no seeing out of the rear), auto lights and wipers. Cruise control. Two-zone A/C. All a given in most offerings, but a pleasant surprise here – a real step up.
But we know what this step up signifies for Lotus, our darling of good-ol’-days racing pedigree. Baby’s squaring up to Stuttgart – a tough pony to break. I applaud her efforts and the results.
During my brief time living with the Emira, I took it down every type of road I could, and everywhere I went, it gathered people. It’s on the outside, standing at the kerb or on the move, where sets itself out from the rest – lines more exotic than its peers. Phones were pulled from pockets in Kensington, ignoring the sparkle of chariots worth multiples more. Groups standing around it, arms folded, as I returned to it – questions and proper car people conversation triggered as I unlocked it. Beautiful little moments when children asked if they could sit in it. There’s no denying that the Emira presents an alternative choice, but it’s a considered one – a real driver’s, and it seems the people on the street recognise this. As the billboards surmise perfectly: Not another sportscar. The other.
Truthfully, rolling it through town, even as someone who’s no stranger to having a camera pointed at them, I felt a little self-conscious. Is that a bad thing, though? I think not – the visual appeal is secondary here. If it’s sexy, it’s sexy. Don’t knock it. It’s a focussed instrument that also doubles as a real dinner date wingman. It reminds you to get out and open the door for your passenger – the flush handles a subtle and elegant touch. Chivalry isn’t dead yet.
I was with the touring chassis configuration and the now-legendary Mercedes-Benz 4-cylinder turbo powerplant, coupled with the 8-speed dual-clutch ‘box – a new and truly capable marriage for Lotus. While not the purist three-pedal V6 set-up, this does represent the most user-friendly option, allowing almost anyone to feel assured while opening the taps. This is the one you could use as a daily driver, no doubt. It can sit in the outside lane and take you on a five hour drive to the Peak District and you’re not aching, but equally crawl you through start-stop central traffic.
The biggest takeaway from this car for me is the way it carries its speed with ultimate composure, and the pure confidence it gives you when you’re behind the wheel. Then there’s the way it can change clothes when you flick through the drive modes – more noise, sharper throttle and braking – the way the steering rack weights up. Sure, nothing special on the face of it, but I’ve never met a car that occupies such differing characteristics at the flick of that little switch.
Just like its elders, give this thing a curve section and a little space, and you’re right where you need to be. Windows down, the sound of the turbo kicking in and purging on let-off is addictive. Once you’ve got it hot, the pops and bangs from the pipes, no matter which way you’re going through the gears, are something else. This car wants to be driven hard, and even in the lairest setting, is sure to show you exactly where the slip is. It politely invites you to cross the line if you feel like it – a testament to the Lotus DNA. Sure, there are a few niggles – the boot gets hot; there was something clunking around inside the passenger door. But I can forgive it – it really makes you smile in a way that few other cars can.
On a sad note, this car represents the end of a very potent lineage, being the last of the brand’s internal combustion offerings. I feel very privileged to have had the opportunity to really experience the Emira and in all of its glory. That isn’t to say it’s the end of the story – the electric line-up is spicy, too, just in a different way.
One thing I didn’t do, as much as I might’ve wanted to, was dig out some thigh-high boots and a blonde bob wig à la Pretty Woman to try and find a spy who loves me, but I guess I’ll just have to leave that to you. At least I showed myself, and a handful of friends, what this car can really do.
