I had had the car on the road for just over 3 months when I had to call the insurance company to extend my limited mileage policy. In that time I had been blatting in earnest, with trips to Goodwood, Brands Hatch, and nowhere in particular. I already had over 500 miles on the clock when I got it registered!

So with the running in done, the car was running nicely - it was exciting, this lightweight, rear wheel drive, rubber burning, tyre spinning, pant wetting beast. Having driven something with the power to weight ratio of a bicycle for the previous five years, jumping in to something with 'only' 120 BHP, and weighing less than my first girlfriend, was exhilarating to say the least.

I might have gotten away with it had I not been a pesky kid myself. Most people who own Caterhams tend to be of the more mature variety, the kids have left home, and a bit of spare cash is burning a hole in their poskets. The Caterham is the perfect tool to make you 18 again, to yank that immaturity out of it's hiding place, and to make you a hooligan.

Unfortunately, I was already all of that before the Caterham, so looking back, it probably made it worse.

Coming back from the South West one lunchtime from CHICKS (check it out, great fun), I was coming through some roadworks at a steady 50 MPH. The roadworks ended, and the gorgeous white circle with the black stripe shouted to me: "Go John, GO!!! Fly like the wind!". And I did. Unfortunately, so did the Police car behind me, and I was tarnished with points. A moment of weakness, a lifetime on the driving license (well, a few years anyway).

I was gutted. I drove all the way home like a saint. I had been lucky though, I might have been going just a little bit faster, I might have lost my license. Who knows.

It was at this point in time that I decided that it was time to start looking into changing a few bits on the car. Research time!