Description
The Lotus Super Seven S2 165 HP was the ultimate evolution of Colin Chapman’s minimalist masterpiece—a car that took the featherweight Seven platform and endowed it with astonishing power, transforming it from a nimble roadster into a true giant-killer. Built in the spirit of Chapman’s relentless pursuit of performance through innovation, this high-output version of the Super Seven represented the pinnacle of the Series 2 era: a machine that combined lightness, razor-sharp handling, and raw power in a way that few cars of any decade could match.
The standard Lotus Seven S2 had already established itself as a benchmark for lightweight design, with its simple tubular space frame, aluminum bodywork, and fiberglass nose and tail sections keeping the total weight to around 500 kilograms. The 165-horsepower variant—whether fitted with a heavily tuned Ford-based unit, a Lotus Twin Cam, or in some cases a Cosworth-derived engine—took that lightweight foundation and pushed performance to extraordinary levels. In a car that weighed barely half a ton, this output created a power-to-weight ratio that rivaled the finest racing machinery of its day.
The heart of the Super Seven S2 165 HP was its engine. In most cases, it was based on Ford’s Kent block, extensively re-engineered by Lotus or independent specialists to racing specification. This included a twin overhead cam conversion or Lotus’s own 1,558 cc Twin Cam cylinder head fitted to a strengthened bottom end. With forged pistons, high-compression ratios, large Weber 45 DCOE carburetors, and race-profile camshafts, the unit could deliver between 160 and 170 horsepower at over 7,000 rpm—an astonishing output for such a small-capacity engine in the early 1960s. Some cars used Cosworth-tuned versions of the same base engine, similar to those seen in Formula Junior and sports car racing, delivering immense torque and throttle response.
Given the Seven’s lightness, this power transformed its performance. The car could accelerate from 0 to 60 mph in under 4 seconds, faster than most contemporary Ferraris and Aston Martins, and its top speed approached 130 mph depending on gearing. Yet more impressive than the numbers was the immediacy of its response. The throttle acted like a switch—press it and the car surged forward with explosive urgency. There was no lag, no hesitation, only pure mechanical energy unleashed through the rear wheels.
The chassis remained fundamentally the same as the standard S2, but the suspension and brakes were tuned to handle the extra power. The front double wishbone setup and rear live axle were retained but fitted with stiffer coil springs and upgraded dampers for improved control at high speeds. Many 165 HP versions ran on wider tires to increase grip, though even so, the car’s low weight meant it could be coaxed into gentle slides with ease. Brakes were often upgraded to front discs, providing fade-free stopping power to match the car’s immense acceleration.
Driving the Super Seven S2 165 HP was an experience unlike anything else on the road. The car felt alive, its every movement a dialogue between driver, chassis, and surface. The steering was immediate and unfiltered, the front wheels responding to the smallest input. Under acceleration, the car squatted slightly, digging in and rocketing forward with startling ferocity. The open cockpit amplified every sound—the induction roar of the Webers, the metallic bark of the exhaust, and the mechanical hum of the drivetrain. There was no isolation, no buffer between the driver and the machine. It demanded focus, precision, and respect, but in return, it offered one of the most exhilarating drives imaginable.
Despite its race-bred power, the 165 HP Super Seven was not a purpose-built track car—it was still road legal, though barely. Many were sold as kits or semi-complete cars to skilled enthusiasts who used them for dual road and competition purposes. With such performance, the car excelled in sprints, hill climbs, and club racing events, often defeating far more expensive and powerful machinery. Its ability to carry speed through corners, combined with explosive acceleration, made it nearly unbeatable on tight, technical circuits.
Visually, the 165 HP version differed little from the standard Super Seven. It retained the narrow body, exposed front suspension, and trademark fiberglass nosecone with its oval grille. Some examples featured subtle flared fenders to accommodate wider tires or external oil coolers and vented bonnets for improved cooling. Inside, the cockpit remained stripped to the essentials: two bucket seats, a simple dashboard with Smiths gauges, and little else. Everything unnecessary had been sacrificed for performance.
In motion, the car’s character was pure Lotus—light, direct, and utterly engaging—but now with the power to rival contemporary racing cars. The sensation of acceleration in a 500-kilogram chassis powered by a 165-horsepower engine was electrifying. The engine revved freely, the gearbox snapped between ratios with mechanical precision, and the chassis seemed to pivot beneath the driver’s hips through corners. Every element worked in perfect harmony, and every drive became an event.
Few cars of the period could match its combination of speed, handling, and purity. Whereas larger sports cars like the Jaguar E-Type or Aston Martin DB4 relied on size and power, the Super Seven achieved its performance through efficiency and balance. It exemplified Chapman’s belief that the best performance came not from adding power, but from removing weight. The 165 HP version simply took that philosophy to its logical extreme—an expression of engineering purity pushed to the limits of what was possible in a road car.
Production of the S2 continued into 1968 before being replaced by the slightly wider and more refined S3, but the 165 HP cars remain among the rarest and most revered of all early Sevens. Many were built for racing, and only a handful survive in original specification today.
The Lotus Super Seven S2 165 HP stands as one of the most extraordinary cars of its time—a machine that delivered racing-car performance in a package smaller than most family sedans. It wasn’t luxurious, comfortable, or even practical, but it offered something far greater: the purest connection between man and machine ever achieved on four wheels. It was the embodiment of Colin Chapman’s genius—a car so light, so direct, and so explosively alive that it redefined what performance truly meant.