Britain's most controversial car dealer: Tom Hartley on selling supercars

While Hartley might not come across as your cup of char in this book, he’s very dynamic and likeable in the flesh. And if you’re into cars, and particularly very fast ones, he’s absolutely fascinating. I doubt there’s anyone in the world who has a better knowledge of this market or, more importantly, a more comprehensive address book containing the names of those who play in it. But before we question the oracle on such pressing subjects as the sales potential of the Lotus Evija, let’s take a tour around and kick some tyres.

Hartley is rightly proud of his new showroom. The old one still exists; it’s where his original office is and from where he still works. Carl has an office in the new place with plenty of computer screens and tech on show, while Dad’s is an old-school leather-topped desk with a phone on it. For doing deals. In case you’ve never read anything about Hartley in the media, he’s had his office walls covered in old articles and features concerning him, including the one that I wrote.

The new showroom is stunning. It’s across three floors, all of which are serviced by a car lift. The top one has a balcony so that cars can be out in the open. The ground floor contains Carl and chief salesman James’s office. There’s a big glass panel on the floor so you can, if you want to, go down to the basement and survey the underbelly of your prospective purchase. The glass had been occupied by a nearly new Porsche 911 Targa, but that has just been collected by its new owner: the wife of a successful East End builder who last week made the trip north to collect his own Lamborghini Aventador SV. Hartley did 500 deals last year, mostly with private buyers but also some within the trade.

Now the sheet of glass is covered by the P1. There’s a Bugatti Veyron next to it, several more Lamborghinis and, on the other side of the showroom, a Porsche 918 Spyder and Carrera GT.

I love Lamborghinis and the straight-forward people who tend to buy them. Like that most famous of Lambo owners, Rod Stewart.

“I know what you mean,” says Hartley. “I’ve sold Stewart several cars. He used to live in Epping Forest but now he’s up near Harlow. One time, I had to drop off a car at Elton John’s house in Berkshire and then go on to Rod’s to collect one.” Some address book.

As well as the P1, there’s a McLaren 720S and a new McLaren GT. “I’ll never drive a McLaren again,” says Hartley with some feeling. “I suffer from claustrophobia and once got stuck in one because the central locking failed. I nearly had to bash my way out of the thing but fortunately was rescued. They’re not at all well made, and then there’s the depreciation. That 720S was about £240,000, but you could take it away now with fewer than 5000 miles on the clock for £150,000.”

The Evija was mentioned earlier. I remember from when we trod the boards at Geneva that Hartley didn’t hold Lotus in especially high regard.

“The problem,” he explains, “is that, as a brand, it simply isn’t on the same level as Porsche or Ferrari. Selling a million-pound-plus Lotus isn’t going to be an easy job.”

So what does the man who has the most amazing key box in the world drive? “I’ve got a diesel Volkswagen Golf,” is the answer. “It’s a great little car. I do of course drive lots of supercars, but the reason I drive the Golf is that I don’t want to lose the special feeling that you get when you drive a supercar. I don’t want to become blasé about them. I need to feel what the customers feels.”

By his own admission, Hartley isn’t a petrolhead, even though his knowledge is certainly prodigious. For a chat with a proper enthusiast, you need to buttonhole Carl.

The boy has turned out well. As covered in his book, Hartley, who left school at 11 himself, home-schooled both his sons and both his daughters. When I met Carl in 2002, I found the experience rather unnerving. A young version of Dad, in a sharp suit, very earnest and very controlled. I couldn’t imagine that he would grow up to be a normal person. He has – and we can bond over cars, too.

“What about electric supercars?” I ask. “Not for me,” is the emphatic reply. “That’s as far as I’ll go,” he says, pointing at the hybrid P1. “Not pure EV, because the engine is the soul.”