Motoring Alan Judd

Q-CARS

The concept of Q-ships appeals. In 20th-century form, they were small merchant ships secretly armed as warships, disguised to deceive enemy submarines into thinking they could be sunk by gunfire rather than by expensive torpedoes. The submarine would surface and close for the kill, only to see its victim’s deck cargo suddenly fold to reveal four-inch guns trained on it. The Q-ship concept appeals to the ancient desire to see the hunter hunted.

There are motoring equivalents: Q-cars. James Hunt, Formula One world champion and glamour boy, is said to have modified his Austin A35 van so that he could leave astonished would-be racers in their E-types and MGS at the lights on London’s South Circular. Recently, I drove – somewhat less spectacularly than Hunt – a purpose-built Q-car. Remember the Rover 75, the retro-styled result of BMW’S short-lived ownership of Rover? They were – are – very good cars and, though you can still pick them up cheaply, they’re becoming collectable.

Already collectable, however, is a little-known MG version, the ZT 260. Produced while Rover was owned by the notorious Phoenix Four, the group who oversaw the company’s demise while making packets for themselves, it looks like an Mg-badged Rover 75 until you notice two pairs of exhaust tailpipes nestling discreetly beneath the rear bumper. They signify a 4.6-litre Ford Mustang V8 engine, rear-wheel drive (the Rover 75 was front), a strong US Tremec gearbox, a limited slip diff, racing brakes and Bilstein dampers. The result is 0-60mph in 6.2 seconds and an electronically limited top speed of 155mph. It is also a satisfying, comfortable and solid-feeling car to drive.

Only 717 were made between September 2003 and April 2005, engineered for Rover by Prodrive. My friend paid £9,300 for his very low-mileage example and it still brings a smile to his face whenever he turns the key to hear that discreet but powerful V8 rumble. The interior is well-appointed with quality materials and clear, definite, analogue dials and controls. The manual gearbox is solid and meaty, reminiscent of V8 Aston Martins. I had expected a skittish feel, a 256bhp bucking bronco clothed in a harmless Rover skin, but found instead a car that is sure-footed and well-planted, a good, rather masculine drive, but not too heavy and certainly not clunky.

The only disappointment is the lack of a spare wheel, allegedly compensated for by two tubes of puncture-repair stuff. That’s not uncommon these days, but it was a first when Rover did it, compelled by constricted space in the engine bay. That also caused them to put the battery in the boot, a hark-back to Rovers of the 1950s and 1960s but which also improves weight distribution.

‘Think of it as a destroyer rather than a speedboat,’ opined Jeremy Clarkson, ‘but, in extremis, trust me on this, it’s very good.’ He was right. Any automotive equivalent of a submarine hoping to put one over on this sedate-looking car is due a nasty surprise when it pulls alongside.

My friend knows his cars and is a responsible driver, not seeking to emulate James Hunt on the South Circular. As he observes, the knowledge and feel of a great deal of unused power on tap reduces the urge to compete and encourages considerate driving. Because you know you could blow them away, you don’t need to prove it.

So, next time you’re alongside an Mg-badged Rover, look for those quad tailpipes and, if you see them, buy it. It’s an investment.