My first "fast" car was a 1.9 205 GTI which I loved and then that got stolen; after a brief grieving period and money saving exercise, I ended up with a Porsche 944 S2 which again was a good choice for the time and certainly more of a special driving experience. But I wanted something different although unsure what. I did know one of the criteria was to have something offering more power and excitement. I only had £15k max to spend so the thought of owning a TVR never entered my mind partly because I wanted something that I could use every day as my only car but also because they seemed far too risky a purchase for someone like me who had a limited budget and expendable income!

Then I read a buying guide in EVO featuring an early Griffith. Well all I can say is the journalist convinced me I needed to look at one! I mean it made sense to me; a fantastic and robust V8 engine encased in a gorgeous body and interior with a very low weight (1,060kg) made solely with one thing in mind: a pure driver focused sports car. Mod cons like traction control and ABS… pah go get another Porsche! And that was exactly what appealed to me; the idea of owning a rare (only 700 odd early pre cat Griffs were made) hand built British sports car that was becoming a modern classic whilst still retaining serious power to weight and agility due to the light body and offering a very unfiltered driving experience.

So on a wintry day in 2003 I found myself viewing a gorgeous, near-mint 92 4.3 Mica Blue Griff near Lincoln being sold privately by a very enthusiastic owner. Funnily enough the only aspect of the car that I was put off by was the OZ multispoke wheels which I think look great on the car now, but at the time I was concerned they made it look a bit old fashioned. I paid £15k exactly which was at the top end of what the market dictated for a private sale at the time but I knew I wanted the best I could find.

It was all a bit of a blur that day and on the drive back it dawned on me quite how different this car was going to be to anything else I had owned. My senses were bombarded by the directness to everything about the car and always with the engine and exhaust taking pride of place. It certainly wasn't love at first sight though; only because the focus and concentration of driving was such an effort compared to my Porsche that I was just really looking forward to feeling more comfortable with it. Then there was the attention which almost demanded others to notice it, which I was just not at all used to. I broke up my journey back to London with a stop at a B&B I found and remember not sleeping much that night.

It was a cold morning the next day and I started the car and let it run for a bit to warm up. It was then whilst standing outside the car listening to that awesome V8 burble with the plumes of white condensation pouring from the two large exhausts that I finally relaxed with the realisation that this was going to be a fantastic car to own.

It is my only car and although I don't use it for travelling to work I use it at least once a week and have put approx 30,000 miles on the clock since that day three years ago. It is of course a hand built car built by a very small independent sports car business and I decided early on that rather than get frustrated or upset when things go wrong, I'd just remind myself why I love it so much. Every time I get in the car it always feels special; the tangy smell of leather, the minimalist sculpted dash and those curious buttons, the small fat leather wheel and the perfect compactness of the way the car sits on its wheels. Then a twist of the key for a second and that familiar explosion of noise before settling into it's low idle.

Driving in town is not when the car is at its best even though it trundles along very well on a low throttle; fast A and B roads, preferably with the roof off, are when me and the car come to life. The focus and concentration needed when hustling fast is addictive; fantastic response to the throttle and brakes and the awesome acceleration accompanied by that ever increasing noise rising quickly to a deafening howl, the car moving quite a bit over the road, two hands firmly on the wheel which squirms a touch in my hands, lightening up as the rear squats slightly. Blat blat blat through the gears and then hard on the brakes settling the car nicely for the next bend, that lovely totally secure planted feeling as I balance the car round before the bend opens out, then hard on the throttle feeling the rear push me out onto the next straight.

So obviously I love driving the car and use it every chance I get, which I think has been one reason why it has been fairly good to me. Plus I am very sensitive to getting it looked at whenever something appears out of sorts in addition to the regular servicing. There was one time when the electrics decided to pack up and another when it was not playing ball at low revs but as far as all the major stuff it has been fine (touch some of that lovely wood). I have spent a large amount on non-essential stuff like upgrading the suspension and getting the car tuned on a rolling road which has certainly improved my enjoyment of the car.

What is rather amusing to me is people's reactions to the car, whether they are other road users who either just gawp or lower the window for a better listen through to the bolder ones ho give me a compliment or demand I rev the engine. Two passenger's reactions come to mind too; the first was a girl who just simply yelled "Wowww!" for pretty much the whole 10 minute blat up the road and the second was a mate who is not into cars and while I was happily caning the arse off the car he looked like he was in the mother of all horror movies.

So that is really what this car is all about; an opportunity to relish something that is against all things sensible and savour its individualism!