But the rewards are manifold: smooth applications of the throttle are vital on the exit from bends in order not to excite the leaf-sprung rear end, but extend the Cobra’s V8 down the straights and you’re repaid with a soundtrack that’s as uniquely American as Gershwin or pumpkin pie.
The hard-edged hammering of eight pistons working hard grows into a guttural roar as you trip past 4500rpm: it sounds so damned violent (but also intoxicating) that you’re tricked into believing the Cobra is travelling faster than it actually is.
AC estimates a five-second 0-60mph time, which feels about right, but there are few more dramatic ways to achieve that figure.
We pause in Petworth, a few miles north of Goodwood, for photographer Max to take some beauty shots of the Cobra.
I do a few slow circuits of the market town’s narrow, old-school one-way system while he snaps away, but the strident bark from the Cobra’s V8 – no matter how gently I stroke the throttle – seems to be at odds with Petworth’s genteel, antique shop vibe.
But no, not at all, it seems; in fact, quite the opposite.
Instead of being besieged by the local noise police when we park in the town square, a small army of middle-aged, well-to-do shop owners and residents descend upon the Cobra, grins on their faces and phone cameras at the ready, wanting me to explain why it’s so clearly ‘vintage’ yet wears ‘74’ registration plates.
The Goodwood effect is clearly alive and well in these parts.
And Goodwood-bound we are now. I have the rare pleasure of an empty road for most of this part of the trip and really start to gel with the Cobra.
You can’t drive this car with any hint of indifference for fear it will bite you. The steering is prone to kickback but full of feedback through its large, thin-rimmed wheel, and it’s pleasantly high-geared for fast-road work.
Its separate chassis reacts to every surface change, and you’re constantly on the lookout for mid-bend potholes and drain covers that threaten to send the 1950s suspension awry.
But this is the real deal, warts and all. You hang on for dear life but at the same time revel in the Cobra’s brutality and the demands it makes of you as a driver.
Which, if you’ve ever attended Goodwood’s Revival or Members’ Meeting, is why our penultimate stop is at the Motor Circuit.
In more modern times, Cobras have been a thorn in the side of so many Jaguar E-Types and TVR Griffiths that it only seemed right we should pay tribute with a few (loud) runs through its famous tunnel.
We can’t dwell here, though. Our car is needed back at AC’s new works, just down the A27 in Bognor Regis.
It’s the same high-tech factory that will also produce the new Cobra GT Roadster.
But it’s only thanks to the car I’m in right now that it will enjoy the success it undoubtedly deserves.
By Simon Hucknall