Stoop low, then reach down to about a foot above your shoes. A little more… there. Congratulations, you’ve located the chrome door handle of the Morgan Supersport. Push the button and swing the door panel wide open. Pop your left leg over the sill and bury it deep into the footwell. For reference, you should now be in a mid-Cossack kick-squat position. Then, in one smooth movement, lean back while simultaneously tucking your head to your chest, and faith-launch yourself into the reclined seat of the hard-top-equipped sports car.
I’m exaggerating, of course. Getting into the Supersport is a choreographed cinch, really. If anything, it’s harder getting out. That, however, has more to do with the hugely engaging, multi-layered driving experience than attempting a dignified exit.
For a motoring journalist residing less than 30 minutes from Morgan’s Pickersleigh Road factory and Experience facility in Malvern Link, Worcestershire, not having previously driven any of the marque’s creations seems criminally negligent. Happily, quite out of the blue, Morgan recently sent an email offering a two-day test drive. What better remedy than an overnight road trip in the company’s range-topper?
Henry Baker, the brand’s astute PR and marketing exec, led the way to a waiting Morgan Supersport in Amethyst metallic. Almost black when in shade, the colour adores sunlight. There are a few shoutier-hued Supersports in the test fleet – Copper metallic for one – but by its nature a Morgan never flies under the radar anyway. Gorgeous 19in forged Aerolite wheels, weighing just 9.7kg each, complement the now more substantial volumes and the minimalist detailing of this masterfully reimagined Morgan flagship.
Slimmer sidescreens, which fit and seal better than before, are also more easily removable, as Henry so expertly demonstrated. These can be stored in the boot when you’re keen on making breezier progress. As for that load space, it’s not very deep but it will take a brace of soft bags. While the storage capacity itself isn’t conversation worthy, the lacquered ash framing it certainly is. The Supersport is underpinned by a new, ten percent more rigid version of the aluminium platform introduced back in 2019, but the body panels are still hand-formed over an ash wood frame, as they should be.
A quick glance around the luxuriously minimalist cabin revealed pebble-grained leather upholstery, matt silver fascia, smoked oak centre console and lower dash rail plus achingly beautiful Caerbont dials. Instantly recognising the BMW-sourced drive selector, I politely declined any further operational pointers. As you’ll read later on, that turned out to be a short-sighted move.
A twist of the key in the column-mounted slot was a nostalgic, electronic necessity before punching the starter button in the centre of the dashboard. BMW‘s 3.0-litre turbocharged inline-six woke with a throaty burble and quickly settled. The eight-speed ZF automatic transferred generous torque from the off.
Morgans in Malvern are a common sight, but fellow road users still took notice of the Supersport. Soon, I was into the hills on a sinuous sliver of black-top that has not been nicknamed Mad Cowleigh Road for nothing. Let’s just say you wouldn’t like this car to be any wider than its current 1.8 metres. Fortunately, its all-round visibility is superb courtesy of the almost upright windscreen, slim A-pillars and enormous, curved glass rear window. The only issue is coping with the longest bonnet this side of a 1970s US land yacht. Fantastic to look down, but it makes judging where the front corners end complete guesswork. For me, jumping from a daily-driven Mini hatch into this took a bit of mental land surveying.
Less than ten minutes into the drive home, I started to sweat. No, not from the stress of navigating this £102,000 (£130,000 as tested) motoring wonder down roads better suited to bicycles, but because someone had left the seat heater on the hottest of its two volcanic settings: Krakatoa! Unlike a mid-1990s Mercedes-Benz, the Morgan Supersport’s dashboard has precisely seven buttons, none of which was able to stop the eruption of lava beneath me. With no place to pull over safely, I was stumped – and on fire in the southerlies for 12 miles. Once home, Google led me to the switches buried deep beneath the lower dash rail either side of the centre console. Lesson learned.
The Malvern to Margate road trip started late in the afternoon. Before even hitting the motorway I’d already fallen for the quick, quite delicate steering, grown to appreciate the brakes’ need for a firm shove and acknowledged the Dynamic Handling Pack’s taut body control. Sure, the steering gets a little fidgety over broken-up surfaces, but then, proper sports cars communicate. And, talk about a talkative chassis; there’s feedback through every touchpoint. Delightful – never annoying – little creaks, squeals and squeaks give life to the machine in a way that most modern automotive appliances will never know.
A four-hour dusk-into-darkness drive – much of that chasing the full moon – underlined the Supersport’s touring credentials. I hadn’t expected the relative suppleness of the suspension and associated ride comfort. I’d even come to terms with the minimal right-elbow room. Flashbacks of a bruised arm earned while driving a Series 3 Landy faded quickly thanks to the Moggie’s more purposeful padding.
The optional Connectivity Pack delivered seamless Bluetooth telephone connection, which allowed my 1990s grunge to counter the 70mph cabin boom. Ticking the Sennheiser Premium Audio box is a must. A recess ahead of the drive selector incorporates a wireless-charging pad and is perfectly angled to keep your navigation app within eyeshot.
Discotheque night-time motorway reflections upon the cabin’s flat-glass windscreen and polycarbonate side sliders kept me fully engaged, as did occasional [very] short stabs on the throttle – with 500Nm available from 1250rpm, there’s torque to burn. Accompanied by downshift woofle (in Sport Plus mode) and the full-throttle baritone blast from the active Sports Exhaust, it’s a broad-smile driving experience. Zero-62mph in 3.8 seconds in a leccy vehicle is one thing, but it is so much more immersive when it’s fully orchestral.
An overnight stay in Faversham left a short morning blast to Margate and a wonderfully nostalgic stop in at Scalextric and The WonderWorks. By this time the Morgan Supersport was thirsty. The filler cap itself is a thing of beauty but refuelling was a mildly tense exercise. I was sure the nozzle would dribble all over the paintwork just to spite me. It didn’t.
A foggy beachfront lunch stop at Broadstairs was followed by a tippy-toes amble through the tight town centre. I kept being startled by the car’s reflection in the shop windows – it does look mega on the move. Blushing away all the admiring looks, I pointed the head-turning Supersport back towards the Malvern Hills and let all 335 horses loose… ever so briefly.
The Morgan Supersport is a glorious reminder of why we love true sports cars. Compromised, characterful, fast, agile, a little loud and a lot of fun. Perhaps the best part, though, is that despite the design glow-up, it still looks unmistakably Morgan.
More information on Morgan Motor Company can be found here.
