“So how’s the new Fiat?” a car-obsessed co-worker asks me.
“Well, it’s cute as a bug and gets good gas mileage,” I start off, before the inevitable. “But it rattles like heck on the highway, only has mediocre power and some parts like the trunk lid feel like they could snap right off.”
My co-worker is unfazed.
“In other words, it’s a lot like the old Fiats, then,” he replies without missing a beat.”
Oi.
I had hoped for so much for more this tiny car, the first new Fiat to be sold in America since the Italian automaker pulled out of the U.S. market in the 1980s. Now, as the savior to Chrysler, whom it swooped in to take control of during the American automaker’s 2009 bankruptcy, Fiat once again has a dealer network to sell cars, starting with the 500 subcompact. This particular car is not made in Italy, but rather at Chrysler’s assembly plant in Toluca, Mexico.
I had such hopes because the 500 is immensely popular in Europe. It’s one of those cars that for years us Americans could only dream of having on our shores, a nimble, fun gas miser whose looks are hard to resist, especially if you have two x chromosomes.
And this is where I must warn the men out there of the one constant truth I found after testing one of these cars for a week: Women absolutely adore them.
They are adorable, there is no denying it. Just look at those little doe-like headlights, airy cabin and sparkly colors inside and out. Even its antenna is cute, resembling a frock of hair stubbornly sticking out like a child’s cowlick.
When my wife first saw me pull up in this car – a white convertible with a red fabric roof, no less – she literally squealed. Men, I anticipate a similar reaction from your significant others.
But I must warn you before giving in. If you are seriously considering one of these cars, you really need to drive one, especially on the freeway and for a few days if possible (try a friend’s first) and consider whether it will work for you. Otherwise, the Fiat 500 may remind you of that pretty girl you dated in high school whose appeal never went more than skin-deep.
The Fiat 500 is not a total disaster. In fact, if I only had to drive on city streets and my cargo was limited to, say, two grocery bags, it might just work. In this respect, I could consider it the greatest golf cart ever made. This car could be queen in Leisure World, for that matter.
Yet even before starting the car I noticed inadequacies. Interior space is tight and storage is next to nothing. The steering wheel tilts but doesn’t telescope, limiting my driving position and making me have to finagle more with the manually adjusted seats.
Then there was the right arm rest. I love arm rests in cars; they make highway cruising much more comfortable. The Fiat 500 has one. Perhaps the worst one ever made. I put my arm on it, and the thing immediately flopped down like a limp noodle. Why even bother?
I might be able to overlook some of these things, but not at the price tag mine came with: $26,050 in its top-end “Lounge” form (base hardtop models start at $16,000).
There are two rear seats in this tiny car, but squeezing into them and sitting there for any reasonable amount of time would take a case of bravery or desperation for a grown adult. Have I mentioned that this car is tiny? At 139.6 inches long, it is about half a foot shorter than a MINI Cooper.
Things, unfortunately, went from aggravating to worrisome on the highway. Get this baby up to around 65 mph, and you might find yourself a bit more religious. At those speeds and above, this car lost whatever composure it had, shaking and getting off-track in lanes. I’d hate to be in one of these things in bad weather at freeway speeds. I’d only felt this much rattle in one other modern car I’ve driven, and that was the Mazda2, another subcompact.
Back on lower-speed, in-town roads is where I did find some enjoyment driving the Fiat 500. At those lower speeds, the car feels much more at ease. While the car’s small, 1.4-liter four-cylinder can only muster 101 horsepower, it was adequate around town (a sport mode also helps it get up to speed faster), and its six-speed automatic transmission worked in earnest with the engine. Fuel economy was also better than the EPA numbers suggested. I averaged 32.9 mpg over a week of driving.
This particular model was the 500c, with the letter standing for “cabrio.” This car has a nifty fabric roof that slides back to let the outside in either a little or a lot. It’s cool, until you notice that once the top is completely folded, it obstructs your entire rear view.
The trunk, meanwhile, with only 5.4 cubic feet of storage, beyond small. To make matters worse, it’s an awkward reach beneath the flimsy-feeling lid to get anything in or out of there. The 500c does provide a modicum cargo capacity with the rear seats folded, but in cabrio form your rear entry access is limited to the opening created from that little lid, instead of the wider-opening hatch in the hardtop version.
Like the MINI, the Fiat 500 is a re-incarnation of a past automobile of which the memories are often brighter than the tiny-wheeled reality. Except in the case of the MINI, the modern Cooper is a fun, enjoyable, composed and more practical car vs. the modern-day Fiat 500. And I won’t even get into what the 500’s long-term reliability may or may not look like.
If you are adamant about having a cute, small car, go drive the Fiat and satisfy your urge. But you’d do well to seriously consider other subcompacts such as the MINI Cooper, Ford Fiesta or Honda Fit.
Your turn: Share your own opinion on the Fiat 500 in the comments area below.
Contact the writer: mdegen@ocregister.com or 714-796-6704
