It's two years now since Morgan introduced its Aero 8, a strange, beautifully-crafted mixture of old and new. Swooping wings from a 1930s Bugatti, draped over a space-age aluminium honeycomb chassis and motivated by the smooth 4.4-litre V8 and six-speed powertrain from the BMW 5-series. Why did they do it, when everybody knows Morgan has a waiting list of two years and no overdraft? Because Charles - managing director and third-generation Morgan - was smart enough to realise that there was a lot of choice out there and whatever the waiting list he couldn't for ever rely on the traditional Plus Eight with its pushrod Rover V8, floppy chassis and hundred-year-old sliding-pillar front suspension. Morgan was right, because no fewer than 290 Aeros have since rolled from the Malvern factory's doors, a fact that will confound those who hated the car's looks, but won't surprise the brave souls who voted with their cheque books. In a culture where style triumphs over substance every time, only they - and a handful of journalists - know that the Aero driving experience is in startling contrast to Morgan tradition.

And now here's the Aero 8 GT coupe, a slightly toughened and modernised limited-edition special based on the company's GT racer, which has recently finished second and third in the National championships. It features an uprated 4.6-litre version of the BMW V8 (power up to 322bhp from 286), stiffer suspension and a set of GT lookalike centre-lock OZ wheels shod with Yokohama trackday-special tyres. The aluminium bodywork, finished in the 'official' racer's dark blue and silver, includes an extended spoiler which spans the scallop between the front wings, and a trimmed version of the racer's carbon-fibre hardtop. Inside, the traditional Morgan ash framework has been hidden by a blackened and carbonated interior - a detail described as 'Ebonisation' by Morgan.

Those changes add up to a price hike of ΂£17,000, most of which is accounted for by the engine mods - and an understandable desire to recoup some of the ΂£4million spent in development of the basic model.
Once you've levered yourself past the hugely wide sill and rear wing, then hooked your right leg past the minimal door aperture, the tiny cockpit is a surprisingly comfortable place to sit, and intimate in a way most of us have forgotten. You sit upright, sure, but the seat is grippy and the small, flat screen so close that the view all around you and along the bonnet is panoramic in a way you don't expect. The dash is also close and brings an (ebonised) steering wheel to the ideal position for traditionally bent arms while still clearing your legs wherever you set the rake and reach. A vestigial dash is speckled with large aluminium knobs for the rotary switchgear. It looks great. The only real complaints are minimal elbow room, pedals which mount upwards from the floor and obliged me to lift the heel of a size 12 in order to get the clutch fully home and the lack of sunvisors on the hardtop which was a right nuisance at this time of year.

The intimacy also extends to the driving experience. While 322bhp might not sound a huge amount, the extensive use of aluminium in the chassis and body means it has only 1000kg to move, so the car feels much more powerful than it actually is. The response to the right foot is instant in almost any gear at any revs and this, the great visibility and the taut, lightweight chassis mean threading your way along queues of traffic is an experience as safe as it is indulgent. And it's not just the power to weight, it's the feeling of minimal inertia, which allows you to place the car with no lost motion. You think about it, squeeze the wheel and you're there. Then there's the Bullitt car-chase rattle from side exhausts which - until you roll down an (electric) window and hear it in stereo - makes the engine sound as if it's turning at half speed. It all adds to the kind of seductively effortless experience that only begins with a big engine in a light car.

The drivetrain isn't perhaps as refined as you'd expect given the origins. There's a lot of clonking and rattling from the transmission, and matching the flickswitch gearshift with the long-travel clutch to produce a smooth drive takes some concentration until you get the knack, a fact about which Morgan is understandably defensive. It says the whole lot is fitted exactly as delivered, so it must all be there in a 5-series, it's just that you can't hear it... Strange how so little makes such a difference. Strange too how the look of the car leads you to expect a certain style of handling...

The basis of the Aero's chassis is a laser-cut bonded aluminium structure using Alcan's latest material technology, which is glued, riveted and then baked in an oven to form a monocoque chassis tub with frames riveted-on to mount the body and engine. It's certainly not the cheap option but it makes for the stiffest sports car that MIRA had ever crash tested, and is as far removed from the traditional simple Morgan ladder frame as possible, as are the wishbones at each end, which swing on hugely expensive race-quality ball-joints rather than rubber bushes, and the rocker arms that lever the coil- over-damper units. The whole lot is intended to improve response and there's no doubt that it does. The Aero also rides extremely well and the traditional rattles and shakes are nowhere to be found.

This quest for tightness helps no end with response and steering feel, the minimal power assistance allowing plenty of feedback - even kickback over the bumps - and controlling a sharp front end that you can lean on with total confidence. So far so good, but the penalty for such involvement is a lively back end whenever you get the wheels spinning - all too easy at this time of year with trackday tyres intended primarily for dry weather. It would be a pity not to enjoy a ΂£70,000 car just because it was raining, but if you need to send a van and a spare set of wheels to your trackday, they might as well be slicks. This isn't a problem specific to Morgan, but it does highlight how specialised the whole thing is becoming.

Fortunately the rain held off for most of our time at the Palmerdrome where, surprisingly, the Aero felt rather less impressive than it did on the road. The brakes faded after three laps, and the tactile involvement that had seduced so effectively along the B-roads was less evident. We found understeer on some corners and vicious oversteer in the middle of others. Morgan insists this has not been typical in testing and is now investigating a possible glitch between the production line where the car is built and Aero Racing, which, in addition to running the racecars, finishes off and markets the handful of limited editions.

We hope and believe it can be sorted. I did a lot of road miles in the Aero and it's a while since I've driven anything so involving and so, somehow, immediate without being terrifying. It's a delightful combination that's missing from so much of the modern crop and it was something to be savoured, warts and all.