Morgan Aeromax | First Drive

Unique is an over-used word, yet for a short time it was the perfect adjective to describe the Morgan AeroMax. Commissioned as a glorious one-off by the Morgan-loving Prince Eric Von Sturdza, the spectacular fastback version of the Aero8 was a Morgan like no other.

I was lucky enough to be shown around the show-stopping machine by Charles Morgan at its Geneva Motor Show debut, and can still recall the shared sense of wide-eyed wonder as we gazed at the extraordinary creation before us. I can also remember feeling admiration for the terrific opportunity Von Sturdza had afforded Morgan, and for Morgan rising to the challenge so spectacularly.

Of course being the head of a Swiss bank always helps when personally funding such a fabulously indulgent project, yet wealth, no matter how substantial, is not a substitute for passion. That’s why car nuts like us view Von Sturdza’s subsequent decision to allow Morgan to build a strictly limited run of 100 production versions of ‘his’ car as an act of selfless automotive philanthropy.

Seeing the original AeroMax on a show stand is one thing, walking up to one with the key in your hand and a whole day set aside to enjoy driving it is quite another. Perhaps this explains my boyish glee when DR comrade Chris Harris hands me the Morgan’s precious fob and points me in the direction of his favourite local roads. I honestly can’t remember feeling quite so excited about driving a car since I arrived at the premises of a little known Italian car maker called Pagani to test a development prototype of its debut supercar, the Zonda C12.

It’s not as crazy an analogy as it sounds. Sure, the AeroMax and Zonda couldn’t be more different as cars, but both the Malvern-based sports car maker and the Modena-based supercar atelier have much in common: strong cult followings, universal respect from the world’s auto media and – crucially – close working partnerships with leading German car manufacturers.

Like all motor manufacturing giants, BMW’s main focus is on increasing production volumes and maximising profits, not producing miniscule numbers of handcrafted cars like the Morgan. However, those within BMW retain the desire to do special things, which is why the company is proud of its low-key involvement with Morgan, just as Mercedes and AMG relish their own special relationship with Pagani.

The collaboration between Morgan and BMW first bore fruit back in 2000, when the controversial, all-new, all-aluminium Aero 8 was launched alongside the time-honoured, ash-framed 4/4 and +4 models. Since then a quiet revolution has been taking place within the company, and the productionised version of the AeroMax is a spectacular sign of Morgan’s burgeoning confidence. It’s also perfect way to capture a whole new generation of admirers.

It certainly has me hooked. Indeed, on first acquaintance there’s so much to take in that for the first five minutes you’re powerless to do anything but gawp. Getting into the AeroMax isn’t the work of a moment either. Swing open the flat, featherweight door you’re left with a small, restricted aperture through which to clamber. The front wings cascade along three-quarters of the length of the car, extending all the way from the nose to the base of the rear wheel arch. As they run beneath the doors they are almost like running boards, so you’re forced to stand a little way back if you’re to avoid knocking your shins on the way in.

As you drop down into the driver’s seat you need to tuck your chin to your chest and fold up your legs before finally unfurling again as best you can as your hands fall on the steering wheel and your feet drop onto the pedals. The cockpit is narrow and short; the proximity of the door to your right shoulder, and the closeness of the upright steering wheel to your chest quite unlike any other car. There’s plenty of headroom, but getting behind the AeroMax’s wheel still feels closer to adopting the foetal position than a driving position. And yet, despite all the contortions there’s something strangely comforting and uniquely engaging about the experience.

Once the initial shock of ingress has faded you notice you’re sat a little higher than ideal. At least it feels that way, but the impression is more likely because you feel compelled to duck slightly in order to get an unimpeded view through the narrow, horizontal gun-slit of a windscreen. Like the steering wheel, the screen has a defiantly old-school angle of repose, and sits so close to the end of your nose Morgan could offer a bespoke ‘prescription’ item in the AeroMax’s options list.

There’s much to admire about the AeroMax’s interior. A plastic-free zone, beautiful, high-gloss wood runs the full width of the dash in the form of a sinuous capping that curves over the instrument binnacle. A strafe of circular switches peppers the central portion of the machine-turned alloy dash – amongst them the all-important starter button – while on the far side, almost as an afterthought and all but invisible to the driver, sits the clock. Overhead you’ll find a lovingly upholstered leather headlining, complete with a central spine of wood that runs all the way back down the swooping roofline to the butterfly wing rear window hatches, which pop open at the touch of a switch. The seats are as sumptuous as they are supportive and complete an interior fit to stand comparison with the finest hand-craftsmanship in the business.

Reassuringly, despite all the distractions, the most compelling view is that through the windscreen. Look beyond the eccentric trio of windscreen wipers and your gaze settles on a chrome strip, which leads your eye between the gracefully rising wheel arches, along the epic bonnet’s length and out to the road beyond. Such a scene deserves – demands – a respectful pause, but only to increase the sense of anticipation at the thrills to come.

Turn the ignition key, dab the brake pedal and drop the window, or better still leave your door open. Then take a breath, finger the starter button and enjoy. The AeroMax starts with a rousing blat before quickly settling into a meaty, pulsing idle as 4.8-litres of Bavarian V8 exhales gently through a pair of side-exit exhausts. Prod the throttle (as you surely will) and the Morgan shimmies on its springs with each methodical, gratuitous blip. A few moments of this and you’ll conclude that 367bhp and 361lb ft have rarely sounded more malevolent.

Despite the intimidating aural assault, driving the AeroMax couldn’t be easier, for with the new motor has come the option of ZF’s latest six-speed automatic transmission. It’s a great ’box, despite lacking headline-grabbing double-clutch or paddle-shift technology, and you soon appreciate that its simplicity and effectiveness suit the AeroMax’s character to a tee: Just pull back the alloy lever to slot D, squeeze the throttle and feel a broad grin spread across your face as all that torque propels the Morgan’s minimal mass down the road in deliciously potent style.

There’s no slack in any of the AeroMax’s responses, and while it makes for direct and immediate progress it also takes some getting used to. The brakes are sharply servoed, which makes for some abrupt stops until you learn to breathe gently on the pedal rather than squeeze firmly, as your right foot is more used to doing on the middle pedal. The throttle feels pretty abrupt too, until you realise this is due to the simple yet spectacular physics of a light car propelled by heavyweight ordnance rather than any shortcomings in throttle action.

By any standards the AeroMax feels bloody quick. Whatever your speed, whatever gear you’re in and whatever revs are showing on the tacho, when you push the throttle it literally lunges forwards with a sense of zero inertia and a hard, hammering soundtrack that prick the hairs on the back of your neck. It’s a noise more reminiscent of an aero engine than a cultured BMW V8 plucked from a luxury saloon, but while dramatic, it’s a not altogether pleasing sound from the driver’s seat. It’s a consequence of being sat directly between the sidepipes, so unless you drop both windows you only hear every other firing pulse from the engine. It’s a bit like hearing one channel of stereo recording, and makes the V8 sound a bit flat and harsh: an odd, out-of-synch blare rather than the full Bullitt number as enjoyed by passers-by.

Thanks to the extreme proportions, rear-set cockpit and awkward visibility it takes a while to thread the AeroMax down the road with genuine confidence. Those swooping front wings feel a million miles away, and the thought of clouting one of the precious sculptural panels is never far from your mind. The immediacy of the steering does little to calm your nerves, yet because of this alert, direct response to steering inputs you need to be relaxed and smooth to get the AeroMax to flow. There’s plenty of grip and traction to spare, despite the abundant torque on tap, and the balance feels friendly, neutral, and given enough wheel time, exploitable too. It’s natural cornering stance is mild understeer, but some creative throttle work will bring the rear-end nicely into play. However, only once you realise that the steering’s pronounced lack of self-centre means you have to steer the AeroMax out of a corner as well as in will its dynamics feel wholly intuitive.

There’s no mystery about the ride, which is firm and fidgety on all but the smoothest surfaces. And while this means it can get a bit too lively on bumpy Welsh tarmac it remains a very rapid device. The automatic gearbox works like a dream and is especially gratifying when used in manual mode, for the chunky alloy shifter is perfectly positioned for use like the gearlever in a racing car with a sequential transmission. It shifts quickly and smoothly, giving you complete control while emphasising the sense of effortless, accessible performance. Once Morgan fits the throttle-blip function (absent on this the AeroMax development car) I can’t imagine anyone choosing the manual ’box.

What kind of person buys an AeroMax? Well, aside from being sufficiently well-heeled to spend £115,000, many are likely to be out-and-out Morgan fanatics, or those enviable sorts who already have an oak-framed barn or two crammed with all the classic and modern cars you could ever dream of owning. What’s certain is that much like Morgan’s Aero 8 customers (see panel) there is no ‘typical’ customer, other than the fact that they are all chronic petrolheads.

Cars like the AeroMax are almost impossible to be rational about, whether you’re buying one or merely writing about it. No it isn’t perfect, at least not by any conventional yardstick, for it has dynamic and ergonomic quirks that a mainstream manufacturer simply couldn’t sanction. Yet as we all know, such liberated contempt for convention makes the AeroMax what it is. That’s why whether you’re poring over its details, breathing-in the fabulous aroma of its interior, squeezing the throttle pedal to the floor or taking a final longing glance over your shoulder before handing back the keys, it’s impossible not to be completely and utterly seduced by this truly extraordinary car.