Could Trident's Iceni Be The World’s First Economical Supercar?

I spoke to Trident's Phil Bevan after the launch of the Iceni Magna and Iceni Venturer, two of three potentially ground-breaking cars that can reach 190mph and eke 2000 miles out of one tank

The diesel engine. Once rarely found far from the accelerator pedal of an angry white-van-man, it’s now responsible for the last eight victories in the prestigious Le Mans 24 Hours. Surprisingly though, before the giants of Audi and Peugeot clinched those wins, a small Norfolk based car firm had already long been pushing to maximise diesel’s performance potential.

“We actually started the diesel program way before other manufacturers went to Le Mans with a diesel LMP1 car,’” Phil Bevan, Managing Director of Trident Sports Cars tells me. “We attended the Le Mans organisers before they did as well.”

Bold claims from a company that has just unveiled two new cars, but not claims that lack any substance. Named the Trident Iceni Magna and Venturer, these new tourer and estate versions of the existing sports car can reach 60mph in just 3.7 seconds and blast their way beyond 190mph. This makes the Iceni faster than Jaguar’s V8 S F-Type roadster.

The Iceni Magna displays a split rear-screen

Such performance is available thanks to a monstrous 6.6-litre GM-sourced V8, a diesel unit that in Trident’s hands can produce an impressive 424bhp but most importantly, 950lb-ft of torque. But get this, for extra cash and presumably those with King Kong-levels of chest-hair, you can even upgrade Iceni’s V8 to produce 651bhp and a terrifying 1057lb-ft of torque. That’s a truly earth-moving amount of grunt.

“If you look at our torque figures they are generally double that of our competitors.” Phil’s right, even Jag’s mighty V8 S can only stir up a measly 460lb-ft. But why so much?

“Torque is the accelerating force that horsepower takes over from once the accelerating has finished. The question is, when does a car stop accelerating if you keep changing gear?”

A long bonnet houses the 6.6-litre diesel V8

Well it won’t, not in the Trident apparently because pushing all that torque through the rear-wheels will be a rear-mounted eight-speed automatic gearbox. And with so many cogs to play with, the Iceni will be able to maximise its acceleration at all times, making for effortless speed gain and the most precarious license losing levels yet seen in this segment.

Using their own electronic engine control unit, the small car firm hasn’t just achieved impressive straight-line performance, but also enabled truly astronomical levels of economy.

“68.9mpg is at just 980 revs which means you will be travelling at 70mph,” explains Phil, “and the car can even run on 100% bio-diesel, things like cooking oil and rapeseed.”

The Iceni sports car was unveiled ahead of the Magna and Venturer

This enables the Iceni to cover an astonishing 2000 miles to one tank. That’s three times the length of the UK before your first fuel stop. All this in a car that can outdrag established rivals to 60, offers a luxurious leather and alcantara interior and is available in three body types. Impressive.

Perhaps the most striking of those body shapes is the originally unveiled sports car. Supporting a roll bar that runs from the middle of the windscreen into the smooth plain of the almost Jaguar-like rear, it serves both aesthetically and functionally to give the car a much more purposeful appearance.

“The longitudinal roll-over bar offers super-safe occupancy for passengers even in the event of a roll.” Phil goes on to explain that the bar also helps to enhance handling; “it makes the triangulated structure more akin to the structural rigidity of a saloon car.” And in the world of open top sports cars, more rigidity equals better handling.

Leather and alcantara is used in abundance

That’s not to say the Iceni is an out and out racer however. Phil explains that whilst the car possesses some truly blistering pace, it’s closer to that of Grand Tourer, “providing a very compliant ride along with its excellent handling.”

“We will never produce a car with Nurburgring tuned suspension because the roads in this country are full of ridges, cambers and pot holes; nothing like the Nurburgring or any race circuit. We believe that over firm suspended cars are an excuse for a properly set up car.” No doubt great news for the bottoms of prospective Iceni drivers.

Such early days for small British supercar firms can be nervous times, but there are undoubtedly signs that the Trident story could be one destined for long-term success. A racing program looks possible for the future, giving the brand a chance to demonstrate its new car against far more established marques’ machinery. Whilst a waiting list of prospective buyers from across the globe should ensure the Norfolk production plant will see the Iceni, available from £96,000 in its entry level, one day burble its way onto the roads.

Defining longitudinal beam adds structural rigidity

All sounds great, but there is one overriding concern for sports car lovers of the world; how will it sound? Diesels aren’t particularly aurally pleasing and let’s face it, they can sometimes ruin a car’s sporting credentials. But thankfully, Phil is confident in saying that the case is very different in his Iceni.

“As our engine runs on Piezo fuel injectors it sounds like a petrol engine. Under hard acceleration it even sounds more like a Euro Fighter taking off. It really makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.”

Euro Fighter? That’ll go nicely with that ridiculous torque figure then.

Go Forth and Buy British..Or Don't

Recently I left London for a driving holiday with my family. This doesn't however, mean we went on holiday with the sole purpose of driving, rather that the car was our source of transportation. Strange I suppose, since you wouldn't call a normal holiday a flying holiday. But just roll with me on this..

So anyway we were driving towards our destination, the big plot of land home to afternoon naps and bright red Brits called Spain, and I noticed quite a few things on our way. First of all, I noticed how France's motorways are a giant rip off, with toll station clerks seemingly making up the biggest number they could think of when charging us for using their tarmac. And secondly, I noticed that Europeans love to drive cars from their own countries.

Passing through France, the roads were awash with Peugeots, Renaults and Citroens. As we entered Spain, suddenly the roads were covered in a sprinkling of Seats. And of course the tourist infested Costa Blanca was full of neighbouring European countrymen, from BMW driving Germans to Alfa Romeo driving Italians. It seemed despite us being united as a continent, Europeans really like to drive their own.

Except us Brits however. British drivers instead were driving a mixture of all of the aforementioned cars, plus a mixture of Japanese motors that meant it was impossible to spot a British driven car. The only signs of a British pilot were a GB sticker on the bootlid, or the screams of crashing Europeans being blinded by headlights angled at oncoming traffic.

So with this in mind, I began to consider how maybe we should be proud of our ability to choose a car based on its ability to perform as one, rather than the origins of its badge. Of how us Brits are beyond nationalism and embracing a more united world.

But then I saw an orange McLaren MP4-12C with GB plates roll down the Spanish motorway, and all that changed instantly. A car built just outside of London in leafy Woking, designed and engineered by the best in the business and built by the sort of men who don't drink coffee or sip on wine, but rather who go to the pub and down a couple of pints and eat pies, this car at that moment was more than just a performance vehicle to me. It was the ultimate representation of Britain in and amongst those Alfas and Beemers. 

So there and then I made a decision. I love my little French hot hatch, but for my next car I would happily buy British. I wouldn't go so far as choosing a car that is rubbish just because it's been welded together on Old Blighty, but I would certainly feel an added sense of pleasure knowing I'm driving something someone called Gavin could have made. Thankfully that forces me to reopen the tabs of my TVR searches on Autotrader, and means I should start drinking more beer and stop thinking about getting a chest wax.

Now this isn't to say that our European neighbour's cars aren't great, in many cases they're fantastic. But as a nation once heading the automotive world, our car industry is now comparatively tiny. Lots of cars are made here, but cars of entirely British origin are few and far between the slightly German Bentleys and foreign funded Lotus'. Very few cars are made in Britain that don't at least see one Asian, American or European executive make an influential decision. And this makes me sad.

So I say Britons, don't go so far as to being a nationalistic ass who rejects people from abroad, but do be proud of what we can achieve on this tiny little island. We may not produce them in such volume anymore, but what cars we do contribute to the automotive industry are all generally bloody good. Go forth and buy as many McLarens, Nobles and when they start making them again, TVRs as you can. It's the only way we can help to rebuild what could so easily have been a thriving British car industry. 

But then again, that 458 Ferrari does sound lovely. And those AMG Blacks are sexy as hell. They do say TVRs break down a lot as well; plus my little Renaultsport is as characterful a hot hatch I've ever driven. And my goodness Spanish girls are gorgeous too. Maybe I should hold onto that pro British thought for a bit longer then, maybe Europe ain't so bad..

Can TVR Save Us From The Computers?

We often talk about progress, about development and improvements in the car industry as new models are frequently released, each offering more technology and fewer CO2s than the last. But the mainstream car market seems so focused on computerising cars and simplifying driving, that it's almost forgotten about the real drivers amongst us. Either that or it doesn't care, focusing on the masses rather than the purists. 

Examples of this can be seen across the industry, with semi automatic gearboxes removing the need for that prehistoric stick poking through the chassis floor, electronic steering removing any real sense of feel from our hands, and engine noises playing through our speakers to 'add' to the sounds of ever duller engine notes. That's all fine in a car that's used to carry junior and his sister to school, but what about cars that are supposed to be used for driving, for fun? 

In comparison to their predecessors, this new breed of sports cars and hot hatches all have an element of involvement removed from them. Even though they might be quicker, cleaner and more efficient, I don't really want any of them.

What I want is to step back into time, to a time when cars were still in touch with their raw, highly engaging ancestors. Of course most car makers won't do that, with ever increasing global issues revolving around emissions and fuel. But I have found a solution, a way of experiencing that old school flavour and all involving drive modern cars have lost. The solution is, buy a TVR.

There are several reasons why you shouldn't buy one of course, but they're all rubbish and unimportant reasons. If you buy a TVR, a 5.0 litre V8 Griffith for example, you will not only experience immense neck snatching power, but also the brutal roar of the almighty lord himself each time you squeeze the throttle. That's pretty great value for money.

In the early 90s, semi automatics were a brand spanking new technology reserved only for cars like Nigel Mansell's Williams F1 racer. So TVR had only one option, to hand full responsibility of this violently powerful V8's gearing to you, the driver. With no computer to protect the gearbox, and no GPS to predict the gears for the road ahead (a feature enjoyed by today's Rolls Royce Wraith) as the driver, you are the brain, you are the tamer of this beast. Too heavy a right foot and you'll spin all 340 horses through the rear wheels, in turn sending you toward the nearest object and probably a fiery death. But what a way to go.

That's what I want, not the flaming death of course, but full control over my vehicle. I don't care how efficient and how precise today's electronics are, if I'm not in control of that vehicle, I'm not really driving it. I'm merely influencing it, as the computers still have the upper hand. It's for this reason cars like the Nissan GTR impress me, but don't excite me.

So as you can imagine I'm glad to report that TVR, the long troubled British car maker, are back. And the latest news suggests we should be greeted, or should I say violently exposed to, 2 new models, supposedly both keeping with the TVR philosophy we'd enjoyed before the company ceased production in 2006.

I really hope new owner Les Edgar honours this promise, ignoring pressure from our European neighbours to tame the horses. Forget the electronics Les, stick a proper old school gear lever in there and 500 horses to go with it. Be the savior of driving, the manufacturer for the purists. Make something scary. Pretty please.