THE Tamora is our first test of a TVR, and was made available by local distributors, Classic Sports Cars cc of Randburg. The TVR recipe is a relatively simple one – design an immensely strong tubular steel chassis, clothe it in a lightweight body, and drop an engine with Big Bang power under the long hood. Simple and – for the hardcore performance enthusiast – certainly very sweet.
The Tamora tested here is the baby of the TVR range. Originally launched in late 2000, it is based on the tubular steel chassis of the more well-known Tuscan (seen in Project Swordfish). As with most TVRs, the Tamora’s curvaceous body is made of glass-reinforced plastic.
At R680 000, most people will catch one sniff of the glassfibre and say no thanks, but the reality is that the Tamora is not badly built, if nowhere near as polished as a relatively high-volume roadster such as the Porsche Boxster. The Tamora makes up for this by being a neck-snapping attention grabber. While the front may be pretty and conservative rolled into one, the rear end will render most onlookers speechless. Call it ugly, if you will, even baboon-like, but you can’t deny it certainly keeps your attention! The Tamora’s roof can be removed (targa-like), and the remaining section then slides into the space behind the seats for full alfresco fun. Judged by the reaction of other road-users, there may be people out there willing to buy the Tamora solely on the basis of its unique styling.
As you stand next to it admiring the sexy curves, a confused expression will inevitably appear on your face. “How do I get in?” There is no door handle. In its place is a little button underneath the exterior mirror. The doors don’t open very wide, unfortunately, and the seats are mounted low, so access requires you to fall, rather than climb, into the car.
The cabin is unlike anything you’ve ever seen, with swoops, slashes and bits of real aluminium all over the place. You’ll either love it, or want to fall out again immediately. Fronting the driver is a hand-made instrumentation cluster dominated by a speedo and a rev counter with a needle that, bizarrely, swings counter clockwise. Underneath these gauges is a digital display that again gives the speed, revs, remaining fuel, oil pressure and temperature etc. Small buttons behind the steering wheel allow the driver to choose the preferred composition of the read-out. In direct sunlight, however, you probably won’t be able to read anything.
The driving position itself requires some compromise. The seats go back quite far and there is enough headroom, but the cushion is not adjust-able, with the result that some testers described the driver’s seat as, “a pain in the bum”. The floor-mounted pedals are mounted very close to-gether and to the right. And the steering wheel is only minimally adjustable for height and reach. The result is that you never quite feel entirely comfortable behind the wheel. But it is certainly surprisingly spacious inside, with plenty of additional storage space (96 dm3) behind the seats to supplement the 178 dm3 boot.
Some parts of the interior are stunningly detailed. The little rotary dials for the air-conditioning and light system, for example, and the beautifully machined handbrake-lever surround, combine well with the black and yellow interior of our test unit. But there’s no escaping the fact that this is not a high-volume car with billions worth of development money behind it. The indicator noise sounds like the Mahindra Scorpio’s, there are no airbags, the gearknob became scorching hot after driving, and sound deadening is noticeable only for the absence thereof. Over longer distances it certainly isn’t very comfortable in there…
Many people expect to find a Rover or Ford-sourced engine under the bonnet, but TVR has been developing and building its own engines for almost a decade. Dubbed the AJP6, the Tamora’s powerplant is a fuel injected, 3,6-litre, straight-six unit that has four valves per cylinder and dry sump lubrication. It delivers a whopping 261 kW at 7 200 r/min and 393 N.m of torque at 5 500. Power is sent to the rear wheels by a five-speed manual gearbox and BTR limited slip differential.
At cold start-up our test car’s rumbling engine sound was accompanied by a screeching fan belt, but once warmed up the AJP6 is a glorious thing to listen to – it rumbles and shakes at idle and roars through its stainless steel and titanium exhaust like an upset lion broadcast over a live rock ‘n roll show’s speaker system.
With so much power and so little weight (1 151 kg), the Tamora was always going to be lightning fast. TVR claims a top speed of 280 km/h and a 0-100 km/h time of 4,6 seconds. So, off we roared to our test strip…
Initially, there is not the almighty shove that you may expect, but once the engine reaches 5 000 r/min all hell breaks loose. The engine sound becomes less boomy and more like a primal roar, one that grows ever more evil as the revs pile up. The throttle pedal has seemingly endless travel, and it feels like eons before the green gearshift light is illuminated. Then the orange one. And finally the red. You grab the next gear and it starts all over again.
The ferocity of the acceleration is lung flattening. The car is up to 220 km/h in a flash, but then, at 232 km/h exactly, we encountered a problem. First the speedometer needle dropped to zero, which is quite disconcerting when the Racelogic test equipment’s display says you’re traveling at way over 200 km/h. But more scary is the sudden beeping alarm, accompanied by the instrumentation readout, “Warning: Low oil pressure!” The thought of a seized engine and locking rear wheels at that speed was not a comforting one, so our testers backed off. As a result we had to calculate the top speed. It should do 280 km/h at 7 138 r/min in top gear. But it’ll need a brave driver to take it there…
Acceleration testing went better. Our best of 4,91 seconds is some way off the claimed time, but can to some extent be explained by the relative newness of our test unit (400 km), the fact that CAR tests with two people on board and, perhaps fuel quality. It must also be noted that the car’s engine showed no signs of ill-health for the rest of the test period, and we were later informed by TVR that the oil-pressure warning was due to a faulty chip. TVR in England was aware of the problem and new chips were being sent out. Later in the test-period, this electronic glitch also temporarily zapped out the wipers, indicators and air-conditioner.
he Tamora’s underpinnings are racing-car inspired. Double wishbone suspension, along with coil-over shocks, is used at both ends. The steering is power-assisted rack and pinion. There are no electronic driver aids on any TVR, and that includes ABS. The initial feeling from the brake pedal is that you’re stepping on a wooden block and nothing is happening, but push a little harder and the massive cross-drilled ventilated discs haul the car to a stop quickly enough (averaging 3,03 seconds from 100 km/h). During our emergency brake testing routine, the brakes took a while to heat up, but then got better with every stop, and also became easier to modulate.
The Tamora driving experience is guaranteed to leave you breathless and sweaty, either out of fear, or exhilaration, but mostly a mixture of both. It’s not an easy car to drive on the edge, and the safest solution would most certainly be to take it to a racetrack and find the limits there. It’s generally a neutral handler, but the tail lightens up dramatically under braking or when backing off, and this doesn’t boost confidence. It also becomes quite twitchy at speed, and with steering so direct and alive, it’s easy to overcorrect. If you have the skill and confidence to exploit its undoubtedly fun dynamics, you’ll love the Tamora. Lesser drivers, however, may end up in a cloud of smoke going backwards off the road.