Why mid-engined cars are the purest and most special driving machines

The first mid-engined car I ever drove was a Ferrari. Don’t get too envious, it was a Mondial. Not just any Mondial, mind, but the rare-as-rare Mondial T fitted with Valeo’s semi-auto gearbox. Weirdly, it had the wand-like gated manual stick but no clutch pedal, the actuation of the clutch triggered by a tilt switch in the lever when you made the shift. 

It was a strange fish. The tech came from the factory Lancia rally team, who got Valeo to develop the system for the Integrale. Once you got your head around timing the shifts – I pushed a ‘ghost’ pedal with my left foot until I’d nailed the cadence – it was surprisingly slick and satisfying. I suspect it would probably feel less dated than the F1 paddleshift it begat. 

Aged just 22, I was cock-a-hoop about taking a Ferrari home, but I do recall it being a bit spikey. Then again, this was 1993 and I’d been weaned on Car drive stories from the days when mid-engined cars were agile but unforgiving, and the likes of the Lancia Stratos and Maserati Bora were described as widowmakers. I think I’d have been disappointed if it hadn’t been tricky.

Curious to experience what all the mid-engined fuss was about, I wasted no time in heading home from Carweek’s London offices, collecting my mate Tim and heading to a quiet roundabout not too far from home. It was dark and raining, but this didn’t deter me from my cunning plan: to circulate said roundabout at roulette ball velocities until something happened. 

‘Something’ was the front pushing wider and wider, until I backed off and physics took over, the Mondial snapping into oversteer and unceremoniously firing us into the centre of the roundabout. Thankfully the rapid gyration was a vivid but harmless lesson in mid-engined handling traits; a low kerb, a Ferrari-sized gap in the otherwise hefty gorse bushes and a near-miss with a road sign leaving the Mondial – and my nascent road testing career – undamaged.

Save a less eventful weekend in an early Honda NSX, exposure to mid-engined cars was somewhat limited for the next few years, even after joining Performance Car, simply because there weren’t that many mid-engined cars around to try. Lotus was still building the Esprit, but Ferrari had dropped the F512 M in favour of the 550 and Lamborghini made only the Diablo. Speaking of which, my first Lambo was also something of a unicorn – the Diablo VT Roadster. Sufficiently intimidating to snuff out any ill-advised thoughts, it was the first proper supercar I ever drove. If I close my eyes I can still picture the car, feel the hefty weight of its gearshift and hear the epic V12 engine roiling away behind me.

At the opposite end of the scale, visiting Hethel to be among the first to drive the S1 Elise was a uniquely special mid-engined moment. Of all the cars I’ve driven it remains one of the very best. Nothing since has felt that delicate, nor delivered a driving experience that so perfectly matched the car’s objective. I’m sure plenty have been lost to lift-off oversteer, but the feeling of poise and pinpoint responsiveness to tiny inputs remains a revelation.

I’ve not owned many cars – partly because I get to drive so many for work, but also because I tend to be a serial monogamist. This said, amongst the few I have called my own over the years, one was an S2 Exige and the other a part-owned F430 manual. 

I loved the Lotus and did many enjoyable trackdays and road miles. It was the perfect baby supercar, ideal for my circumstances at the time. It was also a ‘sensible’ replacement for my wholly impractical Fireblade Caterham and a perfect stepping stone into the 964 RS I sold it to buy. 

By contrast, I never felt comfortable with the Ferrari. It was a great car, but I just felt a bit self-conscious in it, which is odd as it never bothers me when I’m in a press car. On a more practical note, it taught me the Maranello Paradox: use a Ferrari and it wears things out quicker than you expect; don’t use it and those same things seize up. It costs you either way.

Do mid-engined cars deserve the hype? In my experience, yes, absolutely. The cockpit and driving position are more special, the sensory stimuli are altered and more intense. They are drivers’ cars in the truest, purest and least gung-ho sense. Where front-engined rear-drive cars respond to being roughhoused and feisty front-drive hatchbacks demand to be slung around, mid-engined cars encourage and reward a more considered approach. They are a glass of fine wine in a world of lager and Jägerbombs.

The real beauty of mid-engined cars is that you’ll find the same fundamental balance and behaviour in an MGF or Boxster as you will in an MC20 or Zonda. If you love developing your driving skills and are fascinated by the process, make sure you take the mid-engined plunge at least once in your life. It’s as special as you’d hope.