The car sounds all petrolheads adore

A smooth gearchange

Before you write in to complain that “every gearchange is smooth; it’s called synchromesh”, I present to you my 1950s Willys Jeep, which has a three-speed non-synchro ’box and a foot-long gear lever. Accurate it is not. It’s smooth on the way up, but going from third to second without a hideous graunching noise takes some doing. As for second to first, I just cheat by stopping and starting again. It requires double-declutching, the co-ordination of a top athlete and lots of anticipation. But when third becomes second in a seamless snick, with no gnashing of cogs, it’s one of the most satisfying noises you will hear in any car. Piers Ward

Silent anticipation

You might think this a bit odd but, for me, the most exciting sound is, well, no sound at all. It’s that anticipatory silence you experience in the moments before you drive something special for the first time; as you contemplate all the sounds, smells, sights and physical sensations you’re on the verge of experiencing. This silence is undoubtedly at its loudest when the car in front of you is something exotic: a mid-engined Italian, for instance. But you can still hear it when you look at something as humble as a Ford Fiesta ST, or perhaps even the charming old beater that you know inside out but that still appeals to your inner petrolhead on the most primal level. Keep an ear out. Simon Davis

Backfiring

It’s hardly an indication of good mechanical health but, for character and comedic value, little beats a backfire. You hardly ever hear one these days, because modern cars don’t suffer the timing and fuelling issues that plague temperamental older motors, so it has come to serve as the soundtrack of the neglected but ever-faithful banger. I’ve never managed to encourage a cohesive relationship between the distributor and carburettor of my ancient Volkswagen Beetle, so coughs and splutters are par for the course, but one of my fondest driving memories is leaving school one fine summer afternoon, backing off the throttle as I approached the maths block and making my poor old form tutor jump two feet into the air. It was almost worth the detention. Felix Page

Indicator clicking

Clicking? Ticking? Click-clack? The electronic noise made when you indicate doesn’t seem to have one accepted name, which seems odd, given the frequency with which we hear it. But perhaps that’s why: indicator clicks are the pleasing rhythm. An underappreciated one, too. You would miss it if it were gone. And there’s another twist: these clicks have hidden depths. Car audio designers (yes, they exist) have spent years tuning them to perfection, sculpting that noise using carefully curated audio elements. The clicking in a Volvo? Crafted from snapping twigs. Yes, really. James Attwood