My Cars: Quantum 2+2

I'm going to be looking at all the cars I've owned to date in a series of posts. First up is the Quantum 2+2.

Everybody remembers their first car. Technically speaking I had driven others before (we'll come to those later), but the first car I ever actually owned was a Quantum 2+2. So named because of its (slightly optimistic) two plus two seating layout, the Quantum was one of the success stories of the 90s kit car industry. It used Ford Fiesta running gear allied to a tough and pretty GRP monocoque. Most, like mine were XR2 based, but there have been examples built with the later Zetec engines, turbocharged CVHs and even the occasional Diesel.

Inside, the car's humble origins become apparent; you sit somewhat lower than in a Fiesta, but the dashboard is instantly recognisable. On the flipside, so too is was an excellent heating and demist system, electric windows, a decent stereo and a large glove box – all considered luxuries on a kit car of the time. Add to this some space in the back and a comparatively huge 450 litre boot and it really was as usable as the donor car.

The Quantum interior - puppy not included.


So far, so good, but usability isn't really what sportscars are about. Fortunately the stiff tub combined with Quantum's own suspension geometry and spring rates provided a very entertaining driving experience. True, the unassisted steering was a little heavy at parking speeds, but you could forgive that once on the move. Prod the throttle and the Vulcan-built engine would suck air rather vocally through the K&N air filter, past its enlarged ports and valves and then out through the exhaust. A lumpy cam provided a suitably sporting burble at tickover and a lightened flywheel gave instant throttle response, ideal for scaring passers by with blipped down changes! However it was the chassis' balance that really made the car come alive when pushed; it maintained a very neutral stance only really giving into understeer when wet. In the dry it proved very throttle adjustable and a deliberate lift could easily bring the back end into play, yet it never felt nervous in the way that a 205 GTi could. In honesty it lacked the Pug's last degree of steering feel and turn-in ability too, but it remained playful, whilst never quite giving you enough rope to hang yourself. It was the perfect combination for an enthusiastic young driver.

Whilst the Quantum was a genuinely capable and versatile car, the other things that make your first car stand out are the experiences you have with it. I was lucky enough to be living in Devon at the time and my memories of the car will always be intertwined with the county's rural roads and those of neighbouring Somerset and Dorset. I did my first trackday with it at the Haynes test track in Sparkford; I used it to drive to my first serious job interviews in London and when I finally moved to the other side of the country it was the car that took me there. However my defining memory will always be of driving it back from a friend's house late one summer evening. It was about 1am and I'd just started the car on the street outside when I heard an interesting noise. An enthusiastically driven TR5 buzzed pass heading in the same direction and I pulled away behind it. Within yards the road went into national speed limit and I was just about able to keep up. And so for the next half hour or so we flew through the lanes of Somerset and Dorset in convoy under the stars. With the hood down I could hear the Triumph's straight six echoing off the hedgerows and had a perfect platform from which to see the driver threading it through corners with just a hint of four-wheeled drift. We continued like this unhindered by traffic until we reached the main road, then with a wave we headed off in opposite directions. It remains one of my all time favourite driving experiences.

The Quantum at Wiscombe Park Hillclimb

So what of the other cars before that? The first car I actually drove after losing my L-plates was a Citroen Saxo belonging to my parents and I did eventually own that too. Recently in fact, which is why I'll come to that one in the future.

Special Delivery

The following was written when I picked up my TVR in early February. It's the story of my first 200 miles or so with the S3 and was originally posted on the Pistonheads.com TVR forum.

So, after possibly the longest week of my life and a certain amount of insomnia I picked up my S3 on Saturday. Mr Livingstone and co were clearly conspiring against me as my train was first delayed by an hour and then, having only travelled a handful of miles, spent the next 15 minutes reversing back towards Kings Cross to clear a broken down service. Finally, five and a half hours after leaving the house I made it to Brough and with glorious sunshine it was far from grim up north. The formalities dispensed with, then a quick explanation on how to work the immobiliser and I was away. Hood down naturally.

The fuel gauge was firmly set on zero, so a couple of miles down the road I pulled into a garage and tentatively filled it up, trying my best to avoid tripping the auto-cut-off on the pump whilst simultaneously attempting to guess the quantity that was left. I gave up at £40's worth and headed off again. The fuel gauge still read zero, but frankly I didn't care as the sun was out and I was heading down a slip road in a TVR.

Cruising along the M18 I came across an interesting looking mini with flared arches and a roll cage. I slotted into a gap in the traffic just after him until the road cleared and then (easily up to temperature) I dropped down to fourth and gave it some beans. To my surprise the mini was still right behind me, accelerating hard at the sort of speed a standard A-series car would struggle even to reach. Accompanying it was a banshee wail, suggesting a bike engine or VTEC lurked within. That's what I'm choosing to tell myself anyway. Discretion kicked in shortly afterwards and we both pulled in to resume a more law abiding rate.

After about an hour on the A1 I was starting to loose feeling in most of my extremities; whilst I still had a broad 'village idiot' grin, on my face, the shivering that was starting to accompany it was less becoming, so I pulled in to the services for my first attempt on the hood. I went for the previous owner's suggested technique of balancing the targa panels in the windscreen and rolling the rear section up to meet it. Despite fears of broken glass and ripped canvas, all went smoothly. That was until I came to restart the car atleast. A single relay clicked with no other signs of life and I began to suspect this was where my TVR experience really began. After a quick phone call to the seller who re-iterated his earlier advice on the idiosyncrasies of the immobiliser system, I was (much to my relief) back on the road.

With the hood up the car suddenly became a very civilised proposition. The heater now had some effect, I was regaining feeling in my arms and the wind noise was virtually gone. Fortunately the engine note wasn't and it burbled on along the final stretch of the A1 sounding even better than it did with the hood down. As the Hatfield tunnel approached I couldn't resist winding the window down and listening to the exhaust note echo off the walls. Naturally I went through exactly the same routine in the Enfield and Holmesdale tunnels on the M25 - it would have been rude not to.

Emerging from the final tunnel with aching cheek muscles, I took a diversion up the M11 and onto the A414. This particular stretch is quite twisty in places and great fun in daylight with a car with that you know. Despite covering over 200 miles in the tiv by that point it had been almost exclusively straight and darkness was now upon us so I had to exercise some self-restraint in the corners. On the straight stretches however the S proved to have about the best overtaking pace of any car I've owned. The power delivery is so effortless compared to the 4 cylinder screamers I'm used to that it could have been left in top, but instead the schoolboy within demanded 4th if not 3rd and full throttle. The torque of the V6 makes real world progress feel very rapid - I'd love to know what the V8S is like.

As I finally pulled up outside my garage in the outskirts Chelmsford one of my old worries resurfaced. Would it fit in? I edged up very nervously, drove the front in and then got out to check for clearance on the back (the wing mirrors had long since been folded up). The eventual clearance between the rear wheel arches and two particularly vicious looking metal plates that stick out from the door frame was about 2" on either side. No worse than the average London parking space perhaps, but a nerve racking experience when parking the most expensive thing you have ever owned for the first time. Once the car was safely in I began the equally precarious task of getting me out. In the confines of the garage this involved removing the driver's side targa panel and squeezing out over the top.

Safely extracted, I got a lift back to the house and that evening I slept far more soundly than I had previously. The grin however, remains.