The curves and the madness
Through the 1990s and into the early 2000s, the game was moving on in terms of reliability, build quality and refinement. Panel gaps were closing up, creature comforts were closing in and emissions and safety were taking centre stage in the minds of consumers. A bespoke beauty held together with glue that might not crank in the morning didn’t quite have the appeal it once did. Impeccably assembled and bombproof German and Japanese machinery began to flood the market offering the performance and the looks with the added benefits of lease hire and top-to-bottom warranties. Overnight quirky TVR became dodgy TVR.
And it’s an utter crying shame because, at the very same time, TVR was on its best game by an order of magnitude. The Griffith 500 was one of the prettiest sportscars on sale at the time and, though controversial looking, defenders of the later Tuscan and Sagaris models are as vehement as their critics. Dynamically they were on form too, with the Speed 6 engine and raw driving experience finding critical acclaim.
Behind all the noise, curves and vents, that shaky reliability and a strong smell of adhesives would always become too pungent to ignore. As Wheeler passed ownership onto Smolensky demand was already dwindling and before long they’d be circling the drain once again. Old niggles had dated a marque that on the face of it was stronger than ever, making them ripe for the crushing – and crush the rivals did. The industry and the market had outgrown this most old school of British sportscar manufacturers and indeed the genre as a whole. Their loss was one of the last of many.
They’re back, though and the long and the short of their claims are as follows: a competitive, well-designed and well-screwed-together product that can be reliably delivered and will hold together mechanically and structurally. Time will tell but lord knows we have high hopes.
Photography by James Lynch, Matt Sills and Richard Pardon