Just to recap: I had a slight 'off' in the 340R last summer (cold tyres, low temperature; therefore not my fault) which resulted in an impromptu meeting between the Lotus's front end and a six-inch-high earth bank (057). Although mechanically untouched, the 340R's bodywork was cracked and, as it's an all-in-one body, it meant the whole lot had to be replaced at a cost of ΂£4082. As if that wasn't enough, the new front spoiler cost ΂£901 and 77 hours' labour to put it all back together again amounted to ΂£4392.

But once I got to Hethel and saw my 340R in the Motorsport Workshop, I temporarily forgot about the bashing my wallet has taken. It looked absolutely stunning; better than new, in fact, with a deep lustre to the paintwork which I put down to an extra helping of lacquer in the paintshop. There's a special attraction in having your car repaired at the factory as there's a massive pool of knowledge to tap into (these blokes live and breathe Lotus cars) plus the chassis set-up gets checked on the Hethel track by the legendary ride and handling guys; when they've finished with it, you know your car will be as good as it gets.

Today there's no time for the planned blat round the track as I've got 170 miles ahead of me and it's already starting to get dark, so I don some woollies and prod the starter button. The engine splutters into life, the irregular mix of pops and rattles of a cold 190bhp K-series sending familiar shudders through the bodywork.

There's no alternative but to join the continual convoy that streams out of Norfolk down the featureless A11 and A14. It's a dreadful start to any journey; only the occasional roundabout offering any sort of light relief. The steering response is such that even the tiniest jink creates an immediate reaction but I'd trade some of that for a heater right now. I'd forgotten how quickly the chill factor can kick in when at the wheel of the 340R. The blue glow of the dials reflects how I'm feeling right now; I've only done about 100 miles but my hands have already gone numb. All I can think about is visiting a toilet, not only to have a pee but to use the hand drier, again and again. A quick fuel stop later and I'm finally ready to peel off the main road and disappear down Oxfordshire's rabbit warren of back roads.

This is more like it. The roads are deserted and that crazy engine is making light work of powering the featherweight 340R, each gear devoured in an instant thanks to the ultra-close-ratio 'box. The headlights pick out the next corner ahead: brake, blip, flick down a gear (heel and toeing comes so naturally in this car). Behind there's an occasional flash of flame from the exhaust that lights up the countryside. This is fabulous: freed from mobiles and in-car entertainment, my brain is tuned solely to the act of driving. I've missed this sort of drive; the 340R has been absent for too long but it's more than making it up for it now. Despite the cold start this has been a magical drive home. I've just got to keep it on the black stuff this time around.