It's a momentous time. As a company, Noble has matured over the last few years. Production has successfully shifted from Leicestershire to South Africa, the product has evolved and improved, and the order book remains healthy. Lee Noble's original business partner, Tony Moy, has retired, making way for former Next managing director David Jones to wear the suit and keep a beady eye on the bottom line. Thus freed from the stifling day-to-day distractions of running the business, Lee Noble is now doing what he loves most: rolling up his sleeves and getting stuck into developing the cars. And it shows.

The 3R is the new flagship. A re-styled nose featuring more aggressive-looking headlamps, and a much-improved design of alloy wheel, has enhanced the GTO's visual appeal, while more power (352bhp) and torque (350lb ft), a six-speed gearbox and a limited-slip differential make this the most driver-focused Noble yet. Which is why, given a few days' free reign with the 3R, we decide to do what I suspect most of you would do: selfishly seek out our favourite roads and enjoy the car for its own sake. No group tests, no Millbrook, no contrived storyline. Just prime cuts of north Wales, garnished with a few laps of Bedford Autodrome's West circuit.

Our journey starts early. Early enough to avoid the Monday morning crush. Early enough for us to grab a cuppa before sunrise. Early enough for there to be a chill in the autumnal air and a heavy coating of condensation shrouding the Noble's silvery curves. Despite the dew, there's no hiding the 3R's visual menace. All four-square stance and racerish aggression, fat wheels brimming in the arches, high-rise wing perched on machined alloy stanchions. It raises a smile even at this sadistic hour.

Swing open the door and drop inside. The seat is thinly padded and sharp-edged, but it looks businesslike. You sit low, your eyes on a level with most other cars' door handles. The footwell is tight and offset to the left, and it takes a few moments to unsnaggle feet from pedals. I'm glad I'm wearing narrow, snug-fitting shoes. But there's no denying that it feels special, as excitingly alien as a mid-engined car should be.

Turn the ignition key and hear the Noble's pumps whirr and zizz behind you. Give the small, stainless steel starter button a push and savour the hollow, deep-chested gurgle as the 3-litre twin-turbocharged V6 catches, then settles into a meaty idle. Best wind down the window an inch to make the most of it.

Early start, unfamiliar machine, driver a bit bleary. It's times like this when you want the car to work. No fuss, no fiddling. The Noble works. The optional air-conditioning sucks mist from the screen and percolates dehumidified heat through the cockpit. The engine, though clearly still in the throes of warming up, pulls cleanly, the gearbox happy to slot into second without baulking. And so we prowl through the village, the bassy exhaust note thrumming off walls, the turbos hissing to each other gently like a pair of snakes.

Our destination is north Wales. We're creatures of habit at evo, but with good reason when it comes to Wales, for I doubt there's anywhere better to exercise a car like the Noble. The only downside is a lengthy motorway schlepp before the fun begins. Pain before the pleasure. From a testing standpoint, the cut and thrust of the A14, M1 and A50 is as real world as it gets. Road noise, ride comfort, gearing, fuel range and seat comfort are all things you forget in the heat of B-road battle, but big deals when you've got two hours of arterial road to devour.

Joining the A14, the first thing about the Noble hits home: it's searingly fast, piling on so much speed up the short sliproad that I have to brake hard before joining the main carriageway. The Noble asserts itself amongst the jostling Vectras, Sprinters and Scanias with almost embarrassing ease. A few squeezes of fifth and sixth gear and we're slotted neatly in the outside lane, happy to bimble along and go with the flow. But no sooner has the 3R's snout appeared in the rear-view mirror of the car ahead than it jinks respectfully to the inside lane. Perfect.

With another brutal burst of acceleration the A14 becomes M1 but, once the adrenalin fades, lower back pain and a numb right leg are there to replace it. There's just not enough support at the base of your spine, and that, coupled with the awkwardly placed pedals, means your right hip is permanently under stress. How bearable it is depends on your stature and your pain threshold but, for me, if the seat were any more uncomfortable I'd be onto Amnesty International.

It's a serious flaw and a real shame, for in every other respect the Noble appears to love long distances. With constant speed and small throttle openings you can easily cover 250 miles between stops, and while wind, road and engine noise are intrusive by family car standards, in a mid-engined sports car they're more than tolerable.

By the time we peel off the A55 at Conwy and head inland towards Betws-y-coed I really need to stretch my legs, but having spent the last two-and-a-half hours resisting the urge to go ballistic I'm equally keen to stretch the Noble's legs, too. After a brief stop for a fresh tank of Optimax and a potent combination of savoury snacks selected by Gus Gregory, we head for the Llanberis Pass.

Typically, despite the rest of the country enjoying the last days of an Indian summer, Wales is sulking under a grey blanket of cloud and drizzle. The roads are wet, cold and leaf-strewn; hardly the best conditions in which to enjoy a 350bhp, twin-turbo car with neither ABS nor traction control. Prudence calls. No sense in asking too much of self or car too soon. Short-shift into third before stoking the fire, wait till the wheels are all pointing in the same direction, focus on feeling, hearing - even smelling - the onset of a slide.

It's taxing, tiring stuff, but God it feels good to actually drive a car, to really concentrate on what you're doing and how the car's reacting. Good to feel in control, good to be travelling swiftly but safely. Above all, and against expectations given the conditions, good to be in the Noble.

Surprisingly the 3R revels in tricky conditions. There's such progression and controllability, even if the tyres submit to the motor's muscle, the resulting wheelspin is not only well-telegraphed but well contained. Sure, if you're oafish about it you can light it up in third and most likely fourth on cold, wet tarmac, but exercise some self-restraint and you can work the tyres and limited-slip diff to the point where traction is j-u-s-t breached without things getting out of hand.

The margins need to be greater on the brakes; the consequences of overstepping the mark on roads lined with stone walls are grave indeed. There's not quite enough feel, which makes it tricky modulating the brakes in the final stages of a stop. Best to brake earlier and enjoy the firm pedal and reassuring initial bite, then bleed off your pedal pressure smoothly to avoid grabbing a wheel over an unseen bump or surface change.

The addition of a slippy diff has balanced out the GTO's handling. Always pointy at the front end, earlier M12s felt soft at the back. Now it's more harmonious, the rear happier to keep pace with the front end's terrific rate of response. The steering is pleasingly physical, if a little dead around the straight ahead, and though there's not quite enough self-centring for my taste, once beyond the first eighth of a turn of lock, you get reliable, granular feel through the wheel. Consequently you soon build an almost intuitive feel for how hard the Noble is working, feeding or feathering the power, nudging on extra lock or, if the diff's hooked up, winding a bit off to balance the oversteer.

The weather's picking up, and we find ourselves on a savage stretch of road packed with dips, crests, cattlegrids and mid-corner yumps. Manna from heaven if you're in an Evo, hell on earth for ground-scraping supercars. But Gus, ahead in his Forester, wants to investigate a location, so there's nothing for it but to gingerly guide the Noble along, eyes straining to read the road ahead.

Gus in the Subaru shimmies along in the distance, impervious to the perils of skerfed chin spoilers, lofty driving position giving confident sight-lines over the steep walls and hedgerows. Trailing behind, I feel vulnerable, winch-high to a Land Rover Defender. Fortunately the hedges recede and the road stretches out across a breathtaking moorland vista. Gus is miles away, the road ahead clear. Gradually, inexorably, I begin to drive faster, every additional millimetre of suspension travel explored accompanied by an expectant grimace.

In an amazing display of damping and body control, the Noble surges along, oblivious to the jagged tarmac, V6 blaring hard in third and fourth, revs occasionally spiking as the rear wheels skip over the worst ridges. It never scrapes its nose, rarely troubles its bump-stops. Rally specials aside, I can't think of another car that would cope better.
Soon we head for the coast and Porthmadog's Saharan expanse of sand. The roads here are faster and less sinuous.

The Noble loosens up as the sweepers unfold, tackling them with a confident swagger. With dry tarmac comes abundant grip and the confidence to push harder. Long, fast corners are taken smoothly in sixth, muscular torque flexing the car through with insistent, unquestionable urge.

Tighter turns allow you to work the front end harder on entry, but neutrality remains. Brilliant part-throttle response enables you to finely adjust your line without a spike of turbocharged thrust upsetting the delicate balance. Understeer is all but non-existent, oversteer on-tap only when you deliberately invite it with a heavy right foot. What's most impressive is that however hard you push, the Noble never gets ragged or unruly. It's with you every inch of the way.

Shame that the six-speed Getrag 'box isn't quite as amenable. It's a strange shift action: quick and clean one minute, knuckly and dislocated the next. It's at its most inconsistent when you try to punch through the gears (up or down), a trait which manifests itself more frequently on track than on the road. It's not a ruinous flaw, but when the rest of the car's so well sorted it's unfortunate the gearbox isn't similarly tactile.

So to the crunch. Is it worth ΂£56K as tested? In every objective sense the 3R is a positive bargain. Nothing else for that sort of money can match its accelerative powers and dynamic aplomb.

True, the interior needs enhancing, particularly the heater controls and warning lights, which have no place in a car costing this much. That driver's seat also needs sorting. But the 3R delivers such highs I know I'd be tempted to turn a blind eye to the switchgear and stuff a small cushion down my back.

There's no such thing as a perfect car, and the Noble isn't about to prove that theory wrong, but if you're searching for the thrill of driving, the GTO-3R is about as good as it gets.