Total production was a whopping four units, one of which was actually a Triumph SLR, using both a Triumph engine and chassis, instead of a Super Sports chassis with its TR4 engine like the other three

I knew Simon must be right the moment he made the comment, I just had no idea he was being so literal. People may not know what the car is, he told me, but anywhere you go they come out of thin air in droves to get a closer look. And sure enough, we'd no sooner posed the Morgan SLR in a deserted car park atop a windswept rural hill for Martyn's opening photograph of the day than the first of the admiring dog-walkers and nature-hikers stopped to ooh and ah. Still, no surprise, surely; it's a rare classic indeed that doesn't attract a fan or two.
   
Then in the blink of an eye appeared Mrs. Callard's Class Six field trip, from—I kid you not—The Drive Prep School, swarming over the car like paparazzi on a pop idol. Except they were unfailingly polite, curious, and a pleasure to encounter, and hung on every patient word of Simon's impromptu Morgan lesson with rapt attention, and nary a finger on the machinery.
   
Especially taken was a young man of not quite adolescence named Henry, an Octane reader, no less, earnestly scribbling notes and making sketches. We were standing at the rear of the car together when he turned thoughtfully to me and said "it looks a lot like an old Corvette, doesn't it? With some Ferrari 250 in it, too..."
   
My only comfort is it'll probably be another ten years before he comes after my job. Yes, the C2 Corvette Coupe influence, the dramatic Sting Ray of the mid '60s, is plain to see; the subtle 250 SWB-like Pininfarina touch in the far softer sweep of roofline never hit me before, though. It's no wonder people love the car at first sight, people with no prior interest in automobiles included; the blend of aggression and grace is heart-melting, and had it come from a major design house, every gearhead's coffee table worldwide would hold a book about the thing.
   
But the Morgan SLR didn't come from any design house; it didn't really come from Morgan, either, which explains why so many don't know the model, even among the otherwise clued-in. It basically came from a shed in North London: "SLR" stands for Sprinzel LawrenceTune Racing and the car was a collaboration between John Sprinzel, better known for his Sprite connection, and Chris Lawrence, Morgan tuner and factory back-door man who built and co-drove the famous Morgan class-winner at Le Mans '62, tweaked engines for the Plus 4 Super Sports, and went on to be a key force behind the Aero 8.
   
Total production was a whopping four units, one of which was actually a Triumph SLR, using both a Triumph engine and chassis, instead of a Super Sports chassis with its TR4 engine like the other three. All were built at the tiny LawrenceTune workshop; the idea was to produce a GT racer using Morgan mechanicals presenting slightly less of a barn door to the wind than the traditional Moggie and weighing the minimum the FIA would allow. The lone Triumph example essentially came about because a good customer had one, and as he was also instrumental in securing vital BP sponsorship for the project, cranking out a Triumph version must have seemed the least they could do.
   
The SLR was thus officially offered as the 'Morgan and Triumph SLR', debuting at the Racing Car Show of 1964. As for the luscious shape, the initial sketches were by LawrenceTune collaborator Chris Spender, passed on to coachbuilders-to-the-trade Williams and Pritchard, where Charlie Williams provided his own input before they were transformed into whisper-thin aluminium sheet. Evidently design by committee can in reality produce simple works of genius now and then, provided it's a small committee kept well away from focus groups.

Each of the cars naturally had a competition career, the most notable drives in the period being probably by the talented Mr. Lawrence himself, showing quite well, for example, against the works Porsche 904s. The one we're visiting today, though, got off to a less than auspicious start: initial owner Gordon Spice, later an extremely successful driver and constructor, whacked the living wee out of it at Goodwood in 1964 three laps into its maiden voyage.     
   
The shunt was sufficiently brisk, in fact, to necessitate a complete re-build after the other cars were completed—making this car, the first of the Morgan-based SLRs produced (the Triumph was the first overall) in effect also the last SLR produced. It was subsequently raced several seasons in the UK before it was bought in 1976 by Bill Fink, owner of California Morgan dealer Isis Motors and the man almost solely responsible for keeping the brand afloat in the USA during those dark years when British manufacturers were bugging out left and right. Fink would race the car extensively in North American events for the next 29 years.
   
Simon Orebi Gann, however, knew not a jot of the SLR story when he originally got involved with Morgans in the early '90s. In all honesty, he says, "I didn't know anything about sports cars or racing in general, I just knew I liked cars with running boards", possibly one reason he so obviously now enjoys talking to non-enthusiasts who exhibit an interest.
   
In 1992, he bought a second-hand Plus 8; in 1995, he turned his hand to racing. He has since won the Powertorque Morgan Challenge series, and he and wife Kate, series co-ordinator for the Challenge and an avid track day driver, currently have four Morgans in the garage and both daughters also drive Mogs; Simon gets a particular thrill from driving the JAP-engined Three-Wheeler around town on errands. ("Why not? It's fun.")
   
And when he finally saw a Morgan SLR a few years ago, it grabbed him the same way it grabs ingenuous school children today. A little research revealed the original to be in California, a touch more revealed it to be sadly not for sale. But as fate often has it when like-minded people meet, he and Fink struck up a friendship anyway, and one weekend long after he'd more or less given up on that car, Simon had a phone call from the States.    
   
'As it happened, I had just finished a race at Zandvoort, and was having a drink with some friends when Bill called on my mobile; he said I've decided to sell the SLR and I want it to go to a good home—do you still want to buy it? And I did the deal then and there, in about five minutes time, sitting in the bar.'
   
The car returned to the UK the day before Christmas, 2006, and went straight to Brands Hatch Morgans, with the goal of preparing it to 1964 specs for FIA historic racing in time for the Morgan Centennial year. Since it hadn't had any serious cosmetic work in 40 years of hard racing, BHM also undertook a complete ground-up restoration, with refurbishment of the single-piece alloy body handled by The Historic Coachworks and paint by Panel Craft Elite. Everything was finished with room to spare, and after shake-down track days at Brands and Silverstone, the SLR marked its first British race outing since the '70s at the HSCC Silverstone International Trophy this May with a third in class, and first Morgan home.
   
True to his drive 'em everywhere ideals, though—travelling to Spa in a Plus 8 would be adventure enough for most of us, let alone unloading the luggage and competing before starting back—Simon is determined the car will also see ample road time, something no previous owner has done. And from the passenger's seat as we crash and bang and skitter down a twisting country lane I can understand their reluctance: this is a pure racing car of the old school, friends, stiff as a Victorian's resolve and with the bare interior metal resonating like a drumhead, one of the few vehicles I've experienced that's louder inside than out.
   
It also requires a warm-up ritual rigid as a nuclear submarine's, stumbles and spits ferociously below three thousand, has zero cargo capacity, and how six-foot-plus Bill Fink wiggled in before Simon installed the quick-release steering wheel, I couldn't guess. When my turn comes to assume the controls, I am almost too frightened of dimpling the acres of alloy while in the act to risk it. Once I take the plunge, though, low and behold it's a pretty nice place to be; very snug, it's true, but the BHM boys have thankfully taken the same level of care setting up the driver as with everything else, the ergonomics are wonderful, the visibility good, and the driving position comfy.
   
There's a fair amount of pedal dancing involved in making a smooth public road launch, not much power at low rpm, but it certainly does get stronger rapidly; LawrenceTune claimed 156 bhp in the day, the modern dyno sheet says more like 170 and 150 foot pounds of torque. More impressive than those figures is how soon I become secure with reaching for them—this is one of those cars that seem all vicious from the observer's viewpoint, and absolutely solid and trustworthy from the operator's.
   
Within a few minutes, the hard suspension just feels reassuringly firm in the traditional Morgan fashion and the slick gearbox, excellent throttle response and sympathetic pedal spacing make maintaining adequate revs more entertainment than hassle. As for the noise and the room and the rest of the little niggles, well, hell's bells, it a racing car, you're not driving the thing to a bloody wedding every day, are you?
   
You know, now that I think about it, maybe Simon's right again; maybe it isn't such a long way to Spa after all. Especially if you don't worry about any luggage.