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When Mario Illien and the late Paul Morgan founded Ilmor Engineering in 1983, neither could have dreamed what part of their company would be doing 40 years later.

Based at Brixworth, the firm was formed to develop methanol-fuel Indycar engines but soon branched into Formula 1 and eventually sold its F1 division to Mercedes-Benz.

Today, as Mercedes AMG High Performance Powertrains (HPP), it’s playing a major part in developing what could be the most advanced EV battery yet.

Solid-state batteries have been on the radar for years now, but we’re still waiting. So news that Mercedes began road testing a new battery earlier this month in an EQS using cells from US-based Factorial Energy is significant – not least because it tackles a key drawback associated with these high-capacity lithium batteries by using a new patented technology.

The earliest prototype lithium battery developed by British chemist M Stanley Whittingham had metal anodes made from a blend of lithium and aluminium rather than the graphite used today. The design proved unstable and manufacturing too complex for production, but the thinking was spot on.

Lithium metal has the highest energy capacity of any anode material and has the potential for batteries with correspondingly higher energy density, delivering longer range than existing production EV batteries. But there are two problems.

The first is that lithium metal anodes produce tentacle-like dendrites, which eventually travel through the liquid electrolyte of a conventional lithium ion battery, touching the cathode and destroying the battery. Solid-state batteries prevent this by using a solid electrolyte.

The second problem is that the volume of cells containing lithium anodes increases and decreases during charging and discharging, which causes a mechanical problem in a tightly packed battery.

HPP has come up with a hydraulically actuated ‘floating’ cell carrier so the cells can swell and contract without damage. It represents a major step in being the first time a battery with lithium metal anodes has been successfully used in a production car.

Will it be the most advanced EV battery? The numbers suggest so. The EQS is targeted to achieve 620 miles, around 25% more range, using a battery of the same weight and dimensions as the standard EQS battery.

Its cells are based on the maker’s Factorial Electrolyte System Technology (Fest), which it describes as “quasi-solid electrolyte technology”.

Its sulphide-based tech, called Solstice, has an all-solid-state electrolyte material that in future trials will raise the range game still further.

Fest also has a lithium metal anode giving similar performance and safety advantages to all-solid-state electrolytes mixed with the production ease of conventional lithium ion batteries.

Factorial also has deals in place with Stellantis and Hyundai, which bodes well for more affordable cars too.

British start-up Get Lost has revealed a Lotus Elise S1 restomod that reimagines the legendary 1990s sports car as a dramatic rally-raid machine.

Dubbed the Project Safari, it has been conceived as an exercise in defiance against the Elise’s original intent.

“The idea of taking an Elise off-road might sound ridiculous, and that’s exactly why we leaned into it,” said Get Lost founder George Williams.

Chief among the changes made to the mid-engined roadster is the installation of a bespoke suspension set-up that raises its ride height by 100mm, giving it significantly greater ground clearance. 

The undertray is reinforced to protect it from rocks sprayed upward by the chunky Nankang all-terrain tyres and from any extrusions encountered during any low-speed excursions.

The wheel arches are flared to accommodate the taller rubber and a new air intake – styled to mirror the look of the Elise’s front grille – hovers above the cockpit.

Lighting has been upgraded by way of rectangular LED headlights, intended to contrast against the Elise’s curves, and a rally-style pod of four lamps mounted on the front end.

Surrey-based Get Lost added that the Project Safari uses a different powertrain to the Elise’s original Rover-supplied 1.8-litre four-cylinder petrol engine.

It has yet to detail what it opted for but said the new unit will “bring the performance and reliability you actually want in a car like this".

Potential candidates include Honda’s K-Series and Ford’s Duratec four-cylinder engines. Both are already popular transplants for the S1 and bring significantly greater power than the original engine's 118bhp.

The Project Safari also receives a limited-slip differential and a hydraulic handbrake.

“This is not a modified Elise; it’s our interpretation of what the platform had to offer,” said Williams. “Everything has been considered, from the design to the drive, all in the pursuit of creating something that’s fun.”

Polestar has cut the greenhouse-gas emissions of each electric car it produces by a quarter since 2020 – and it has done so without radical technologies or materials, instead targeting the “low-hanging fruit”.

Speaking to Autocar ahead of the publication of Polestar’s latest sustainability report, Polestar sustainability boss Fredrika Klarén explained that the substantial reduction in cradle-to-grave emissions is in large part due to how Polestar now sources materials.

Since the start of Polestar 2 production in 2020, it has swapped from traditional sources of aluminium and steel to metal that has either already been recycled or has been smelted using renewable electricity.

These two materials are responsible for some 45% of the 2’s total greenhouse gas emissions, according to Polestar, so present significant opportunities to reduce its environmental impact.

The Swedish company also started using renewable energy at its factories; and it derives some reduction in emissions from the updated, now rear-wheel-drive 2’s greater efficiency. 

“A lot of voices want to talk about how it is technically unfeasible or financially unsound,” said Klarén, “but what we see is that there are so many low-hanging fruits you can absolutely go for.”

She added that there is “still progress to be made”, even with these “low-hanging fruits”.

For example, Polestar Zero – the company’s project to build a climate-neutral car by 2030 – recently identified a potential 10-tonne reduction in CO2 emissions in steel and aluminium sourcing alone.

Kláren continued: “Recycled content: it's not rocket science, right?

“Hopefully we can really [guarantee] that these solutions can be utilised as quickly as possible.

"When we went into the Polestar Zero project, we had the 2020 version of the Polestar 2 as a base car. That car had a 26.1-tonne [carbon] footprint, and if we use the solutions that I just spoke about, we would be down to 16 tonnes.”

Pursuing such endeavours means Polestar is now outperforming its previous forecast for decarbonising its cars entirely by 2040, according to Kláren.

“An EV is not sustainable today, but it absolutely has the potential to become that, and it is better today than the [alternative], and to also create exciting stories around these cars,” she said.

I don’t have accurate statistics because none will exist, but bear with. I think anecdotally it’s acknowledged that more than a few pilots subsequently become Caterham drivers, and/or that flying is something many Caterham owners turn to.

There’s something that unites the activities: mechanical interaction, guiding something analogue, feeling the elements, managing mild perils. The Seven club magazine is even called Lowflying.

Where better, then, to take a new Caterham than to what has sort of become the glamorous home of low flying in the UK: a set of valleys in Wales colloquially known as the Mach Loop, named after the nearby town of Machynlleth, where British military flyers and their friends practise screeching between the hills.

If this sounds to you like an excuse for machine-mad photographer Jack Harrison and me to stand on a windswept mountainside in the hope of seeing an F-22 scream just a few hundred feet past us then, well… rumbled, I suppose.

But what better Caterham to get there in than this one? It’s a CSR, which was a new dawn for the Kent firm when it first appeared 20 years ago. Wider than a standard Seven, it was a bigger, smoother-riding, more capable and plusher Seven, with a marginally more comfortable interior.

Faster and yet at the same time more relaxed. Better for zooming through the valleys than the harsher-riding Caterhams of old.

I can’t remember the last time I saw one. And if you’re a Caterham fetishist like me, you’ll know one if you see it. A standard Caterham Seven, by which I mean one from the regular range (not the kei car-compliant 170), is 3180mm long by 1470mm wide.

You can optionally ‘large-chassis’ a regular Seven for more room, which takes it out to the size of this CSR, 3360mm long by 1700mm wide, but the CSR has details that make it look different again.

It’s Caterham-esque but somehow not quite so. It has more aerodynamic (these things are relative) front wings and there are more holes in it to let air in and out. And where are the front springs?

They’re inboard, driven by pushrods, and next to those wings (carbonfibre on this test car) are aerodynamically profiled front wishbones.Trying to enhance the aero of a Seven is like fitting secondary glazing to one part of Blenheim Palace and hoping it will reduce the heating bills, but I suppose it all helps a little.

There’s more. At the back, although you can’t see it, it has fully independent double-wishbone suspension rather than the trad Seven’s de Dion rear end. The advantage this suspension gives ride quality is marked, and it helps improve grip and traction too. Not that even this will be able to do much about Wales in winter, given the CSR is on Toyo Proxes R888R tyres – hardly renowned for their performance in such conditions.

Ultimately, though – and this is why you so rarely spot a CSR – British Caterham buyers preferred their Sevens in the more traditional and basic ‘Series 3’ form, without the posher insides and funky outsides.

The CSR has continued to be available in mainland Europe because it passes regulations other Sevens never could, but has long since been dropped from the range here.

Until now, just as its time is up. The CSR is going off sale completely and, to mark the demise, Caterham is building a 20-off CSR Twenty edition, for sale in the UK only.

When the CSR first arrived, power came from a 260bhp 2.3-litre Ford engine breathed on by Cosworth. Owing to more limited engine availability today, it houses a 210bhp and 150lb ft 2.0-litre Ford Duratec unit, which drives through a five-speed Mazda MX-5 gearbox.

A limited-slip differential is optional but not fitted to our test car because it tends to whine a bit, and because Caterham sees this as a (slightly) more rounded proposition, it went with the quieter option. The CSR comes factory-built only, by the way – with no self-build alternative.

The CSR was always one of the more expensive Sevens but these final-edition CSRs cost – wait for it – from £79,995, more than twice the CSR’s price when it was first launched.

I do wonder if this is Caterham testing the water of what it can do with the range. Over the past few years, it hasn’t been a given that the company makes profits and, with a 170 available from £29,490 (self-build), perhaps Caterham has been thinking some models are too affordable.

Plus this is a bit of history. Caterham makes noises about the plushness of the CSR Twenty’s interior – it has some new materials, more artfully applied, but like the aerodynamics these things are relative. It is still a Seven interior, which means snug and basic.

The seats are pleasingly softly finished, there are carpets and the centre console has a cushiony soft leather finish, with Alcantara highlights around and a numbered plaque. There’s a satin-finish carbon dashboard too.

I find it easy to get comfortable in any Seven but this big-bodied version exists to accommodate the larger driver. If you’re tall or wide, it’s the variant for you. In fact, there’s so much room in the pedal box that with my size-eight feet and small trainers, the pedals are too far apart for easy heel-and-toeing.

The steering wheel is a non-adjustable leather Momo thing, the gearshift throw is perhaps the shortest in production, and the simple dials and toggle switches are pifflingly easy to acquaint yourself with. There’s a heater and a 12V socket, and even though the suspension design takes up more room than older systems, there’s still a boot, mohair-lined. Plus a roof.

I don’t imagine anybody will think that the hood itself is plush. Magazines were complaining about the popper fastenings when I was a kid and the Seven still uses them now.

Today, a Seven’s hood pulls tighter than ones of old and keeps you mercifully dry too, but it’s a bind to put up and down. Note also that the mirrors are attached to the doors and you can’t adjust them when you’re inside the car. Four-point harnesses are standard, with all the safety but faffing they entail.

Still, there’s a heated windscreen to keep misting at bay and you can reach all of the other windows with a cloth to demist those, so it’s not an unpleasant drive from Caterham’s lovely new factory at Dartford towards my overnight halt in mid-west England, even on a rainy winter’s evening.

But because you sit so low, you’ll swear that anything taller than a Nissan Qashqai has its main beams on, given how dazzling headlights are in the mirrors. By the time I reach my overnight base, I’ve decided I’d fit tinted film over them if the car were mine.

The morning is bright and, because days like this are my favourite reason to get out of bed, so is my mood. There’s no guarantee of seeing aircraft in the Mach Loop. You just turn up at a lay-by on the A487, walk up a hill, and hope.

I don’t mind either way. The drive over is pretty much all good back roads. This CSR’s 2.0-litre engine tune is the same as the 420 model’s and is a combo that hasn’t been offered in the CSR chassis before. Continental CSRs were previously running with the 485 model’s higher-revving 225bhp engine.

But if you think that having only 210bhp (at 7600rpm) or 150lb ft (at 6300rpm) is a downgrade, remember this is a car that still weighs only 620kg and it has one of the slickest, sharpest manual gearshifts in production.

Those power and torque figures arrive at high revs, so you need to work the gears, whereupon it’s amazingly urgent. At low revs it’s still responsive and linear, but at one point I leave it in fourth to overtake a truck and a few seconds later realise I should have picked third.

But even with a clear sky (and the roof down), the road isn’t going to dry today and, in these conditions, it doesn’t pay to be too liberal with the throttle because the Seven can and will break traction.

We were extremely complimentary about the ride of the CSR when it first arrived in the mid-2000s and age hasn’t wearied it. It rolls with an absorbance denied other Sevens, though I think the gap is closer than it used to be.

The compliance doesn’t bring with it a paucity of body control. The CSR is bigger than a regular Seven but the sprung masses are still light, so easily controlled. And while it’s bigger and arguably less pure than the smaller Sevens, the Caterham character is still very much intact. If you’d never driven a Seven, you’d be blown away by the lightness and immediacy of a CSR.

How much does an F-15 weigh? The internet says 14,300kg, quite a lot more than a Seven, though it seems to impact its manoeuvrability and speed very little. Jack and I haven’t even finished climbing the muddy, slippery slope when one enters from left of stage.

So close, barely higher than us, vortices trailing from the wingtips. In a moment it has passed, heading down towards Llyn Mwyngil (Tal-y-llyn Lake), before spearing left and out of view.

A road almost follows the route out of the valley, so after watching for a while (a prop-driven Texan T1 trainer and a Phenom T1 jet pass: we are having a good day), we decide to take it too. Small trainers on, teacup stowed in walking boots, I’m no more than half a mile down the road when an A400M cargo plane appears directly overhead, seen before heard, and arcs its way gently into the distance.

I’m not pretending a Seven is anything like real low flying. But as a cosplay alternative, for kidding yourself there’s an affinity, these are the roads, and this is the car, to do it.

It’s Stig of the Dump meets Don Johnson - a chop-top Ferrari Testarossa crudely stiffened and finished in primer; the antidote to all those gleaming Rosso Corsa Ferraris piloted once a year by meticulously groomed squillionaires, dressed to impress in prancing horse regalia.

It belongs to Scott Chivers, a man with interesting views on Ferraris and owning them...

“I have red Ferraris but it’s not my favourite colour and I don’t drive the cars to be seen,” he says. “My daily driver is a black 360 Challenge Stradale. I’ve owned it for eight years and done 50,000 miles in it. I go to the shops and take my kids to school in it. I love the fact it’s used – and looks it.”

His Testarossa, or Ratarossa as he calls it (a name inspired by the term ‘rat’, short for ‘recycled automotive transport’ exemplified by superficially rusty split-screen Type 2 Volkswagens), is the ultimate expression of Scott’s Ferrari philosophy.

Its grey body is rough and rippled, the engine cover is barely secure, the slender metal stiffening beams are visible between the sills and seats, the door cards flap around and the leather trim around the A-posts and behind the seats is as neat as my gift wrapping...

Does it look low to you? That’s because it sits on lowering springs. The weight of the strengthening beams forced the car down at the back. Scott says he ripped out the old suspension and ordered three sets of front springs of different specs so he could play around with the ride height to equalise front and rear.

Next thing, he’ll be saying there’s an old Vauxhall four-pot under that rear cover. Not a chance: Scott props it open with a piece of 4x2 to reveal the car’s original, and suitably grimy, flat-12 engine. Somewhere in there is the original five-speed manual transmission, too, as evidenced by the dull alloy transmission gate downstream in the cabin.

Scott bought the car from a bloke in California. At the time, he was looking for an engine cover for his 1990 Testarossa coupe, a left-hand-drive car he’d bought from the Netherlands. (Seven of his Ferraris are left-hookers.) There he was, surfing the web, when up pops this four-year-old ad for an unfinished Testarossa spider project car.

“I was intrigued and called the seller on the off-chance it was still available,” says Scott. “Incredibly, it was. He’d bought it intending to restore it but it just sat in his garage gathering dust. The owner said he wasn’t interested in selling it to anyone who would just break it for spares. I told him I would take on the project and get the car roadworthy. We agreed a deal and I shipped the car here to the UK. All in – the car, shipping, taxes – it cost me £16,000.”

Ferrari made only one Testarossa Spider, commissioned by company boss Gianni Agnelli in 1986. It was sold by his children in 2016 for £1.2 million. Naturally, it was a proper job, unlike the dozen or so copycats, including Scott’s, that followed from body shops.

At some point, Scott’s car was owned by a US kit car company that used it as the basis for its replica Testarossas. Then one day, perhaps following a crash, they cut the roof off, at which point, says Scott, Ferrari stepped in to protect its copyright...

“When I received the car and the two crates of bits that came with it, my intention was to rebuild it,” says Scott. “I had my other Testarossa coupeà that had also just arrived so I used that as a blueprint to work out where the bits from the crates should go and as a wiring guide. I was able to swap parts between the two cars so I was able to cheaply and quickly verify if things worked or not.”

But as Scott’s giant Ferrari puzzle came together, the more he loved its raw and unfinished appearance. No bad thing, either, since to bring it to factory standard would have cost a bomb and, in any case, without a roof, it could never be a purist’s Ferrari and his investment would never be recouped. He decided just to enjoy the build, make the car mechanically perfect – and stick with the rat look.

“For me, the rat look is where the car is perfect under the skin but looks like it’s been sat around, untouched and never restored,” says Scott.

“Bits I’ve since acquired or refitted were finished in red so I’ve left them because they add a touch of colour.” To describe Scott as a Ferrari nut is something of an understatement. His passion for the marque began as a boy when he saw a competition on the back page of Reader’s Digest to win a 308. At the time, his dad never stopped going on about the 246 Dino he dreamed of owning, and then Out Run, the Sega game, came out, featuring a Testarossa Spider.

“When, eventually, I could afford to, I bought my first Ferrari – a 348 Spider,” he says.

At this point, I should point out that Scott, a down-to-earth chap of 42, appears to be comfortably off but by no means loaded. He’s freshly divorced and is taking a year out of his job as an IT bod to consider his future.

He has recently moved into a small estate somewhere in the Berkshire commuter belt; nice houses but with driveways too small for more than two cars. It’s why I have no trouble finding his place, since out on the road in front of it is part of his Ferrari collection: the Ratarossa and an F355 Spider; on the driveway, a 355 F1 Spider; and in the double garage, where the Ratty lives when it’s raining or Scott’s working on it, a 308.

In all, Scott has eight Ferraris: two 355s, three 308s and the Ratarossa, all left-hand drive, and the 360 Challenge Stradale and a 456 GTA, both right-hand drive. In addition, he has a 1969 Porsche 911 T Coupe and a Volkswagen Golf GTI Mk1.

Some are here and the rest are with friends and family. They’re insured for £500,000 and his annual premium is £3000. How has he done it? “I’m the guy who buys the Ferrari you shouldn’t: the one with uncertain history, in the wrong colour or the unfinished project. They’re relatively cheap to buy and I make a profit selling them on when I’ve sorted them out. I plough the money back into the collection.”

But not all of his purchases are ‘orphans’. “My 430 Scuderia was immaculate,” he says. “I owned it for three months and then sold it, making £25,000. I added £3000 and straight away bought a left-hand-drive F355.”

Over time, Scott has become a whizz with the spanners. He’s self-taught but little, short of dropping an engine for a timing belt change, is beyond him. He’s constantly on the internet, seeking out deals, parts and technical advice.

Next on Scott’s Ratty to-do list is to refurbish the car’s steering and front suspension, give the engine a thorough service and tidy up the cabin. He’ll fit a sports exhaust too. It’ll all be done properly using genuine parts. As a final flourish, he’ll detail the engine so it looks like new.

Is there one Ferrari Scott would sell his collection for? “Yes: an F40. It would be the only one that would be driven every day. I did once suggest to my ex that we extend the mortgage to buy one.”

No need to ask why it’s just him and eight Fezzas these days.