Lotus Emira v Morgan Plus Four – four-cylinder Brits go head-to-head

My initial miles in the newly revised MY24 Morgan Plus Four are something of a culture shock. Seeking to avoid six hours of sunshine bearing down on my temples, I’ve elected to keep the roof on, and the sheer volume of wind noise on the motorway is initially overwhelming. Upon closer inspection that’s hardly surprising, given that I can see daylight in several places and the fabric itself is a long way from the thick, cosseting soft top you might find on, say, a Porsche Boxster. A jet of outside air is blasting up my shirt sleeve – quite pleasant given the heat, although there is air conditioning, too – and while the new Sennheiser audio system sounds punchy at 30mph, there’s very little hope of hearing anything now we’re on the M1. Cabin storage for smaller items is non-existent. 

I can’t help but think of my colleague for the next few days, Colin Goodwin, cruising northwards on his way to our accommodation in the Scottish Borders, comfortably ensconced in the new Lotus Emira i4 First Edition. He’s probably listening to a podcast, watching the Pennines slip past the Lotus’s heavily slanted windscreen. Damn it, I can’t help feeling I’ve drawn the short straw this time. Nevertheless, the sense of adventure is palpable: that old flicker of excitement betrayed by a little knot forming in the stomach; the sudden, dramatic broadening of one’s horizons from the day-to-day. I might even convince myself that the Morgan’s rawness adds to those sensations. 

> Morgan Plus Six bows out with Pinnacle limited edition

There’s a purity and a cleansing solace from tackling big miles solo, but there’s also no substitute for sharing a road trip. If you go for drives with like-minded mates I’m sure you know what I mean, and you don’t need me to tell you that it’s about more than just the driving. It’s the companionship, the banter, the sense of exploring together, the juxtaposition of different cars and the lively debate comparisons bring. It’s not much of a leap from there to a typical evo group test, although jammy souls that we are, we’ve managed to call it a job and receive financial remuneration for our time and trouble. 

On this occasion we have an all-British sports car duo. Both have illustrious histories, both put driver involvement high on their list of priorities, both are built around sophisticated, bonded aluminium chassis, and both have cutting-edge 2-litre turbocharged engines from major German manufacturers. Oh, and both have just two seats and cost surprisingly similar – and hefty – sums: £74,406 (£93,220 as tested) for the Plus Four, and £81,495 (£81,895 as tested) for the Lotus. But that is emphatically where the similarities, however numerous, end, and given they have such disparate design briefs, a conventional twin test isn’t what we’re here for. 

The Lotus is a genuine bonsai mid-engined supercar, a car with terrific road presence that promises dazzling performance and exemplary dynamics. It should, you’d have thought, be on top of the world by now, but as has been frequently documented, the reality of the past few years has been less than rosy. Despite the V6 model being unveiled as far back as July 2021, Lotus has been struggling to fulfil orders and the i4 version has only now arrived in the market. Given we’ve already been told that the Emira dies around 2026 to be replaced with a new, all-electric sports car, it feels like its life is almost over before it’s even started. 

The Morgan, on the other hand, still looks like the Plus Four that was originally unveiled in 1950, albeit with a (very mild) facelift for 2024 that gives it a slight steam-punk retro-modern look, particularly with its enlarged LED light units. In fact, an awful lot has been done to the Plus Four since I last drove one back in 2020 on evo Car of the Year, where the little brother to the all-new Plus Six proved slightly disappointing. The CX-generation alloy chassis promised so much, but after the wild and slightly unhinged Plus Six the Four felt like a car that wasn’t really aimed at the evo reader, but rather an older, more sedate owner group. Nevertheless, Morgan has been refining the Plus Four year on year, including a new interior in 2022 and much more besides. The big news for 2024, apart from the exterior nip and tuck, is the introduction of a Dynamic Handling Pack, consisting of Nitron dampers and a rear anti-roll bar. Has it spoilt the Plus Four’s traditional appeal, or opened it up to a whole new audience? We’re about to find out.

Near Newcastle a violent thunderstorm has the Morgan’s trio of tiny wipers furiously attempting to keep the windscreen clear, while spurts of water splash across the trendy matt veneer-and-aluminium cockpit from the aforementioned gaps. Yet I can’t deny the Plus Four will be forgiven for this indiscretion, and that a zen-like state has successfully demoted the roar of the wind to that of background white noise. Whereas the early CX cars had woefully flat seats, the new buckets – along with the reach-adjustable steering column – have been amazingly comfortable, allowing a non-stop six-hour mission in a semi-supine driving position. It has also been astonishingly fuel efficient for something that I presumed had the aerodynamics of a wardrobe, at nearly 50mpg, and as we cross the border at dusk the new LED headlights are superbly effective. We haven’t even reached the proper roads yet and already I feel slightly protective and partisan over the little yellow sports car, but then that’s the thing about a proper road trip: nothing bonds you and your car together in quite the same way. 

I first met Colin Goodwin over twenty years ago when I timidly approached his desk in the office of Autocar magazine as a work experience lad. Quite apart from his illustrious motoring CV, this is a man who built his own plane in his back garden and raced classic motorcycles; a road trip with Col is never dull, as you might imagine. And that human factor is important because it has a fundamental bearing on a great road trip like this one. When you drive in close quarters with another car and driver, often at pace, it’s inevitable that you hold a mental picture of who they are and how they might react to situations; whether their judgement can be trusted; whether they’ll drive how you like to drive. 

It’s a bright and early start the next morning, and after a typically calorifically heavy breakfast, Colin and the Lotus lead us out of the inn’s car park and straight onto one of the best roads in the area, perhaps anywhere. I tuck in behind, while Aston Parrott brings up the rear in evo’s Octavia vRS long-termer. 

An unspoken code now comes into play. Col’s role is to read the road ahead, looking for early signs of hazards, adjusting speed according to the law and conditions and not doing anything rash or unexpected. In turn, as the follower I am conscious of not getting too close and causing a needless distraction, regardless of the respective performance of our cars, and to read the body language of his car intently, looking for hints and clues as to the upcoming road. Knowledge of Colin’s character is fed into the Mk1 trip computer atop my shoulders. I know he won’t go marauding into a 30 zone, and I also know that he won’t hang around on the open road either, and I’m entirely comfortable with that because it’s Colin. Sure enough, it’s not long before he’s overtaking slower traffic decisively, using the surging delivery of the Emira to pick off a gaggle of slow-moving cars one by one where forward vision allows. 

However, something very, very odd appears to be unfolding. It is proving surprisingly easy to keep the Morgan in the wheel tracks of the Lotus. Dare I say it, using those quick bursts of acceleration on a typical give-and-take B-road, the Morgan actually seems to be closing the gap, snipping a few metres here and there, particularly out of slower corners. The Lotus has a marked power advantage – 360bhp versus 255bhp – but is also considerably heavier at 1446kg to the Morgan’s dry weight claim of 1044kg (so more than that with fluids, but still a good 300kg less than the Lotus). Even so, the Emira should still have a power-to-weight advantage, but that’s not evident right now.

Perhaps more telling are the torque figures. The Lotus’s AMG-sourced four produces 317lb ft from 3000 to 5500rpm, while the Morgan’s 258lb ft from its BMW B48 motor arrives at just 1000rpm – not much above idle. The B48 has often been criticised for being charisma-free, but here it is brutally effective. Its rough, chomping exhaust note is evocative of classic BMC-powered sports cars of the 1960s, as is its torquey delivery, and the way it provides a brutal kick out of tighter corners or enables a sudden overtake is often amusingly effective. 

When we stop for fuel and food, Colin looks slightly quizzically at the Plus Four, then at me, then at the Morgan again, and mutters something about having to work the Emira very hard to keep the Morgan behind. Like him, I’m a little puzzled, and I don’t have the heart to tell him that I wasn’t trying too hard…

The early cloud has burnt away, and that means the Morgan’s roof is coming off. It’s not a tricky operation, especially once you’ve done it a few times, and soon we’re leaving the town, trundling past Victorian mills, and heading out through a barrage of green so rich it’s like someone has turned the saturation on a display up to the max. The sun beats down but the temperature is still relatively cool, and the scents of meadows and cut grass percolate into the cabin, a reminder that driving without all the modern refinements that isolate you from your surroundings is what makes traditional sports cars such an invigorating, refreshing experience. 

The angry snout of the Emira is framed in the Morgan’s mirror and we’re off onto another great road. A slug of torque immediately stretches the gap to the Lotus, and then we’re into the first of an unpredictable sequence of curves, often prefaced by a blind approach over a crest into a sudden braking zone. I’ve been really surprised by the pedal feel in the Plus Four, which is reassuringly stout, while the pedals’ positioning is perfect for heel-and-toe, although the meek-looking Avon ZV7 tyres (205/60 R15s!) protest when braking hard over a significant bump. 

To be frank, I’d set my expectations quite low upon spotting those Avons, which look as period as the Morgan’s styling, but there’s nothing old-fashioned about the way the Plus Four exploits what they have to offer. The £1995 Dynamic Handling Pack might cause a degree of scoffing in some quarters, but it’s a revelation on the road. 

It’s the support at the rear that makes all the difference. Pour the nose into a corner with the wonderfully uncorrupted steering, and the sense of the opposing rear wheel aiding the process is clear, enhanced by the fact that you’re sitting almost directly over the rear axle. From there you can jump back on the power early, heavily so if you want to leave two black lines on the road. Or you can flick the car back the other way and it snaps the change of direction almost instantly with delightfully little inertia. Turn in more aggressively and the rear works even harder, but it never feels loose. As the speed rises, there comes a point where the steering lightens, and while a little unnerving at first it’s apparent this is the Plus Four starting to four-wheel drift. It’s a wonderfully old-school but exploitable kind of handling balance, and incredibly effective on the kind of gnarled B‑roads that make up much of our route.

Having driven along in the sunshine with a grin so broad it hurt my face, and then practically shouted at poor Goodwin about how good the Morgan is, swapping into the Lotus is like stepping through the proverbial sliding doors into another dimension. There’s something enticingly slick about the Emira that makes it feel quite unlike any Lotus I’ve ever sat in. If the outside is spectacular, the interior is straight from the big book of modern sports car interiors: a little bland, perhaps, but that sounds churlish after years of chastising Lotus for its lower rent interiors. Sadly, I feel I am sitting far too high – on the car, rather than tucked down within it. 

It’s quick alright, its delivery much more linear after the rumbustious B48, the progress much more frantic with the almost constant snap between gears, whereas you only tend to need third and fourth in the very long-geared Morgan (it doesn’t like sixth below 70mph). It’s a rather coarse, uninspiring engine note though, intriguing turbo-whistle aside, and I’m missing the Morgan’s manual ’box already. I’m not going to be a Luddite about it, but I yearn for the AMG twin-clutcher to be more positive, and for more tactility from the change mechanism. The best examples of the breed, like Porsche’s PDK, still foster that sense of mechanical connection with the car, but the AMG ’box isn’t especially satisfying to use, and heaven forbid you should hit the rev-limiter.

Never mind – I’m expecting the Emira’s dynamics to be its standout feature, and as we reach an almost absurdly concertinaed rollercoaster section, the Emira shows it’s got the most incredible body control. It’s passively suspended, the driver modes not touching the suspension, and the Sports set-up is resolutely firm, but it gives the car the most impregnable control that simply hammers this incredibly testing stretch into submission. I look in the mirror and I know the Morgan will be getting a little ragged now, particularly with large vertical movements, but the Emira just steams across the top of it all. 

The same can’t be said for the steering, though, which is constantly agitated by the road’s surface. It goes beyond feedback, instead distracting and detracting from the pleasure of driving, and I concede this is probably the downside to the Michelin Cup 2 tyres. I’d love to try a standard Emira here – I bet trading the theoretically far higher grip of the Cup 2s for more flow, born from both the more compliant suspension and a milder, less aggressive tyre, would be ideal. Then again, this is something that seems to have dogged our experience of the Emira – V6 and i4 – so far. Will we ever drive it on the right suspension and tyre set-up for the road we’re on? 

Waiting for Aston to swap lenses, I try to mentally collate some vaguely intelligent statements about the Emira, while Colin looks a little bemused by the Morgan. I think he’s wondering what all the fuss is about, but then I felt like that initially, too. Maybe after he’s driven it some more we’ll align, maybe we won’t.

I stay in the Lotus as thoughts turn to dinner, at which point the satnav suggests, inevitably, that there’s barely enough time to make it back to the inn before the kitchen packs up for the night. I haven’t driven far when the first spots of rain start to appear on the windscreen, and soon the road is very wet. The Emira feels a little edgy, but there’s still the confidence to push, and it’s not long before the Morgan recedes from view behind, Colin using a healthy dose of discretion. Get into the groove and you can cover ground astonishingly quickly in the Emira, and once nearer to base and on a dry road it really comes alive. 

This is the Lotus I was hoping to find, the smoother roads calming the steering and the wonderfully progressive brakes allowing you to lunge deep into the corners. When we congregate back at the hotel car park, the front ends of the cars are plastered in bug life and we’re all grinning like idiots. I have a newfound respect for the Lotus, and Colin is almost speechless at what the Morgan is capable of. He’s very much a fan, and despite the imminent threat to dinner we just chat and wave our arms in the best traditions of air steering. These are some of the very best times when you’re sharing a road trip with others. ‘It’s always the drive back to the hotel…’ quips Aston with a chuckle, and he’s not wrong.

It’s rinse and repeat the next day until Aston calls time, signalling he’s got enough ‘in the can’ for us to head home. He splits, the Skoda scrabbling frantically over the horizon one last time, and the two Brit sports cars run south across country, me leading in the Morgan at a relaxed but enjoyable pace, both of us drinking in the sensations of one last drive on quiet, challenging roads through a landscape that enriches the soul. When we pull in at a garage for a tank brim before joining the M6, both of us are smiling as though we’ve just passed our driving tests 20 minutes ago. 

‘The Emira is the grown-up car Lotus had to make,’ opines Col as the pump’s readout spins around, and I don’t disagree – it’s a significant achievement. The Emira has layers of sophistication, modernity and useability that are wholly new ground for a product of Hethel, and the end result is a truly polished machine – particularly so in i4 guise, a package that just feels right for a Lotus. It seems a travesty, a complete waste no less, that the issues in bringing it to production and the switch to EVs will render it such a short existence, for this is a car that deserves so much more. 

Even so, this drive hasn’t altered our general consensus on the car: as impressive as it is, neither of us has fallen head over heels for it. Why that should be so is infuriatingly tricky to pin down; for Colin it’s conceptually too heavy to be a Lotus, and neither of us is entirely convinced by the Sports suspension/Cup 2 combination on these roads. What’s more, neither of us can rid our minds of the thought that if we wanted a ‘proper but useable Lotus’, we’d buy an Alpine A110, which, as a fan of the Norfolk marque, hurts to say. 

This is why, despite bracing myself for more hours of hood buffeting, I zealously guard the keys to the Moggy for the long drive south. Sure, as ‘sensible’ everyday transport it has its significant flaws, but like any great analogue driver’s car, once you’ve clicked with it you feel you can do whatever you want with it, human precisely in tune with machine. ‘If you’d tried to drive any Morgan from the last 70 years like we have here you’d have killed yourself,’ laughs Col. ‘But I think it’s been the faster car, and I know which one I’d rather be driving. It’s a movement you’re buying into, too – you’re not just getting a car.’

The 24MY Plus Four with Dynamic Handling is as good at pottering to the pub and touring the lanes as Morgans have always been, but now it also revels in a properly spirited drive. That it potentially has a much brighter future than its more modern rival here is ironic, but it proves, if nothing else, that there’s plenty of life in the traditional British sports car yet.

Specs

This story was first featured in evo issue 324.