There comes a point during every test drive when you have to ask yourself: am I going to drive this thing to work? Given the state of the London Underground and the weather, the answer is usually yes. The only two models I deliberately left in the garage were a yellow Porsche 911 Turbo (some things colleagues never let you forget) and a midnight-blue Rolls-Royce Phantom (never arrive in a car the chairman can't afford).
But the arguments were finely balanced with the Caterham Seven Roadsport 125. The morning was dark, cold and autumnal and BBC London was reporting delays on the Northern line. But a weekend with the car had taught me that the lack of power steering, servo-assisted brakes and ABS, combined with slim tyres on 14-inch wheels, meant that, if it rained, I might career to my death underneath a bendy bus.
Then there was the roof. In the event of precipitation, I'd have to wrestle for half an hour with plastic and fasteners: some Ikea cabinets are easier to assemble. If it stayed dry, the wind-buffeting would leave me with a Simon Cowell bouffant for the rest of the day, while the three-point seatbelt would crease my suit so badly that I'd look like a hot cross bun.