Another One That Got Away

As my colleague Mr Gates has so eloquently posited, breaking up with a former love can be a tough yet unavoidable part of one’s life. And, whilst time is, as they say, a great healer, the pangs of loss and regret can remain surprisingly deep rooted in the heart long after the painful act of separation has been completed.

My own personal tale of automotive love lost begins almost twenty years ago.

I had been conducting an affair so to speak with a string of Italians since the early 90s - the most recent of which was a rare and much-admired Fiat Tipo Sedicivalvole. Regarded by the Cognoscenti as something of a catch, the hotted-up family Hatch was a logical step up from the trio of Uno Turbos to which my heart had previously belonged and was a car I truly loved to be at the (Momo) wheel of.

And yet..

Three years of almost daily use had exposed a number of flaws in the old girl - some to be expected given her Italian genes: electrical maladies were, somewhat predictably, becoming legion for example, but some were a little more troubling - the rear quarterlight window detaching and taking flight on the M23 near Gatwick being a particularly eyebrow, and indeed hair-raising incident and one which went a good way towards making me question whether the grass might well be a rather nicer shade of green were I to start looking around for a replacement.

Now - back then in early 1999 I was still very much under the spell of the Italians and the thought of looking elsewhere than the stables of Fiat or Alfa for a new set of wheels didn’t really enter my mind. So, what to choose? What would continue to scratch the Italian car itch?

For many years I’d gazed lovingly at Alfa’s achingly-pretty classic Spider, the most recent incarnation of which had been refreshed a few years back to give it rounder looks and to try and bring what was ultimately a 1960s design kicking and screaming into the 90s yet a trawl through Auto Trader and the back pages of the likes of Autocar revealed that despite - or perhaps because of - the aged design, Alfa Spiders were still commanding strong money and therefore out of my budget. However, during the aforementioned research exercise another good-looking little Italian drophead sportster kept cropping up in group tests and features - and this one, as well as being more affordable was much more modern into the bargain..

 

Launched only 4 years before, the general consensus was that the Fiat Barchetta was a pretty, delicately-proportioned sports car boasting a peppy little 1800 twin cam pushing out a respectable 130 horses, more than enough to make the most of the relatively lightweight, Punto-based front wheel drive chassis. And whilst it was sold officially by Fiat in the UK, there weren’t going to be anywhere near as many on the road as its far more ubiquitous competitors the Mazda MX5 or MGF for the very good reason that the Barchetta was only ever going to be sold - from the factory at least - with the steering wheel on the left side of the cockpit.

And it was this fact in particular that really set me on a course to replace the Tipo with my very own “Little Boat”. I’ve always liked to have cars that aren’t run of the mill. Not for me the Escort XR3i or Golf GTi, I had to be different and choose the path less trodden - for good or ill (I refer the reader to the Tipo window ‘unpleasantness’) - and the Barchetta ticked that box with a great big fat marker pen.

The more I read, the more I realised that I was becoming smitten. I’d never seriously seen myself in a convertible before but this was different - an affordable, mildly-exotic looking sportster with reassuringly everyday underpinnings that shouldn’t bankrupt me every time the car was due an appointment with my local Fiat service department.

Looking around for second-hand examples, I quickly discovered that as well as the more obvious officially-supplied Fiat UK cars, there were far more parallel/personal/grey imports from the Continent which were generally a fair bit cheaper due to their specification differing from that of their official counterparts. I also learned that there were a couple of specialist importers who were in the business of bringing in new and used grey market cars from mainland Europe and who would also make the necessary adjustments to lights and speedo to help them conform to UK regs.

Interestingly enough, one of the more respected dealers was located only 30 minutes’ drive away from my home and an appointment to view was quickly arranged..

A few days later and I found myself in the heart of the Surrey countryside surrounded by a wide selection of Fiat’s finest, chatting with the proprietor and all-round evangelist on all things Barchetta who introduced me to the Little Boat in the metal.

After showing me some of the fun design features and explaining in detail how the imported cars differed from those brought in by Fiat UK we headed out for a test drive on the leafy lanes around Lingfield and, top down, the sensations of being so close to my surroundings were almost intoxicating, especially as I was conducting business from the ‘wrong’ side of the cockpit.

Once I’d become accustomed to changing gear with my right hand for the first time since the previous years’ holiday to the Canary Islands though, I was able to relax and enjoy the sensations of driving a nimble, fizzy little Italian roadster in the open air.

Needless to say, I was hooked and whilst the dealer didn’t currently have an example in stock that matched my budget, he promised to give me a ring if and when something suitable came up.

I didn’t have to wait long before the phone was ringing and before I knew it, I was the proud owner of a 3 year old Midnight Blue metallic Barchetta.

Imported from Germany, it lacked the ABS and front fog lights of the UK item but did come with dual airbags, leather steering wheel and gear knob, electric aerial and - almost uniquely in the UK - factory fitted air-conditioning.

And I can honestly say, hand on heart that from the moment I climbed behind the left-hand-oriented wheel to the day the Little Boat sailed for adventures anew back in Mainland Europe four & a bit years later (it went to the South of France as a second home runabout for a well-heeled expat don’t you know..) I never once regretted buying it.

Yes, there were times when I had to grit my teeth and cite ‘character’ as an endearing trait when the alternator belt snapped, or the electric aerial developed a mind of its own, or the four month wait for the replacement aircon components to be located in Italy when Fiat UK’s database denied all knowledge of an A/C system ever having existed for the Barchetta, but they were more than made up for by the times I headed out on the first sunny spring morning with the top down, soaking up undiluted Vitamin D and breathing in the smells of the countryside, or driving around France, sat on the correct side of the car for once and being able to make the most of every overtaking opportunity without having to keep repeating “is it clear?” prior to crossing fingers and belting around yet another convoy of dawdling Dutch caravan enthusiasts on the Route Nationale.

All the times I had to stretch across the cockpit to extract a parking ticket from a car park machine were countered by being able to smugly toss Euros into a péage basket on the Autoroute or being able to park in the local High Street and get out straight onto the pavement.

I lost count of the number of people who did a double take when we drove past and it's the only car I’ve ever had which has generated positive comments from fellow petrol pump users.

On the rare occasions when I encountered another one coming the other way I could be pretty much guaranteed an enthusiastic wave, a flash of the lights or indeed both from my fellow pilot and I would of course return the greeting with gusto.

Yes, the Barchetta had its faults - it was a handmade Italian sports car after all - but it evoked genuine affection in pretty much everybody who saw it, and especially in those who got to drive it or travel as a passenger. The purists might have sneered that being a Punto in a posh frock it wasn’t the most dynamic of things and yes, they probably have a point, but I would counter that with the view that for those of us who are willing to sacrifice the need for the fabled “dab of oppo” for a bit of security and practicality whilst still enjoying a fun and good-looking drive, the Barchetta fitted the bill perfectly.

When the time came for me to set The Boat off to foreign shores for the last time the hood was leaking, as was the A/C system. Its paintwork was far from flawless (mostly due to the ignorant and selfish actions of car park cretins it should be said) the steel wheels were starting to rust and the electric aerial was becoming increasingly anarchic and unpredictable by the day..

Yet I was truly sad to see it sail off. Its odometer had accumulated a not inconsiderable number of kilometres in the almost 5 years in my ownership, it had transported my partner - who became my wife while we owned it - and I on numerous holidays and trips away, packing away a surprisingly large amount of luggage into the bargain. It had sipped unleaded and kept me mobile during the dark days of the fuel blockades in the Autumn of 2000 and it seemed to make every journey an event, whether it was a drive through the suburbs to work or a jaunt around the Continent.

The Barchetta was never a huge seller in this country, primarily due to the location of its steering wheel and I think that is a real shame, but conversely this was for me I believe the main attraction. It was different and stood out in a sea of Mazdas and MGs. When I sold mine, circumstances dictated that we needed something a touch more practical and it was replaced with a 156 Sportwagon. For a number of reasons I have very mixed feelings about that Alfa - not least the fact that half of it had already fallen off before the transmission imploded at only 70k miles, but despite this it is was a truly rewarding car to own. I never warmed to it in the way I did to the Fiat which preceded it and for that reason, the Barchetta is, for me, The One That Got Away.

Now, as you will have read, Michael is in the fortunate position of being able to get back with his old flame in the form of another Cooper S and I know that he is going to be like a child on Christmas morning when he finally gets the keys in his sweaty palm.

For my part, I have to confess to firing up Ebay and Autotrader on occasion (having first made sure that the credit card is safely out of arms’ reach) and looking at prices of Barchettas. Prices don’t yet seem to have started climbing dramatically but I predict that within a couple of years, well preserved examples will start to fetch good money. The specialist to whom I used to take mine for regular servicing was already starting to buy up nice ones with a view to fully recommissioning them a decade ago and I reckon that was a pretty shrewd move on their part.

For me, having a family and therefore not realistically being in the position where I can outlay £5k on what would ultimately be a toy rather precludes me from indulging again - well, for now at least - but hopefully my prediction that the little Fiat is set for great things might prove to be unfounded and I might still be able to bag one in a few years time.

Hope so..

David Wakefield 

See also:

Yet Another One That Got Away... But I Don't Want Back!

The One That Got Away

How TV used to be... Fiat X19 review

Thames Television's "Drive In" reporter, Tony Bastable, demonstrates the sporty Fiat X19.

Italy, what’s wrong.

Early December is time for the annual Italian Motor Show. It's not held where you might think, in the sparkling city of Milan or Turin, home to Fiat's old Lingotto factory, famous for being the scene of the roof top chase in The Italian Job. Instead, it's held at a miserable 1970's concrete complex, just outside Bologna.

Bologna itself is an incredibly beautiful medieval city, home to a number of dizzy towers, which have just as much right to be famous as the Leaning Tower of Pisa but, because they're not white, aren't. Perhaps the reason for holding the show in Bologna, is due to the proximity of the supercar manufacturers in the region. Ferrari, Lamborghini, Maserati and more recently, Pagani are all a short drive away.

There's a lot of industry nearby and centres of population. Maybe it's a cold-headed commercial decision, conceived to get as many punters through the door as is possible. Important in these straitened times, because the Italian car industry seems to be in need of as much help as it can get.

I'll qualify this first though, because Ferrari, Maserati and Lamborghini seem to be doing rather well. Domestic sales are poor, but otherwise sales figures are on the rise worldwide. Ferrari seem to launch a new car every year and are no stranger to killing off cars in their prime. This takes confidence. Likewise Maserati, who are about to launch not just one, but two new Quattroporte saloons and a brand new SUV.

But whilst this is all going on, it's hard to wonder if it is all at the expense of the more down to earth brands that you and I might actually be able to afford. With every decade that passes comes another claim of an Alfa Romeo renaissance, or a rejuvenation of the Lancia badge. Group parent Fiat seem to come in fits and starts with alternating generations of cars going through a cycle of praise and derision. But it'd be difficult for even the most diehard Alfa advocate to deny that things are in seriously bad shape.

Back to the Bologna motor show, 2012. An annual pilgrimage - a two hour flight from London and a night in a cheap hotel, together with a shiny Christmas market for unusual gift opportunities. Not the biggest or best show in the calendar, but normally a fantastic opportunity for those like me - with a penchant for Italian cars - to have a good look around the local specialities. Only this year, there were none on display.

With the exception of a handful of Panda 4x4s, the Fiat Group had no formal presence at this year's show. No Fiat. No Alfa. No Lancia. No Maserati. No Ferrari. There were a few third parties there, but otherwise that was it. Why? Money. The people of Italy are poor. You can tell from the way they dress (winter coats that look like bin bags), the way they smell, what they eat and how easily they were distracted by a skanky girl's backside, draped over a Corsa on a tuning stand.

It hasn't always been this way. There has always been an unbridled love of ogling girls but at least in the past, they were pretty and sitting in a Ferrari. This year, the best a pretty girl's posterior was going to get was a Renault Clio estate, the only world premiere on offer. Renault had a presence, comprised of small cars, electric cars, small electric cars and Dacia. Economy cars, in other words. VW had the new Beetle convertible and latest Golf, but that was about it. The reverse psychology in employing male models to sit in the Beetle rag top wasn't working either. No girls expressed any interest.

Even the profligate Mercedes Benz, with their bewildering array of niche models could only field a handful of cars and GM could show you either an Adam, or a Mokka. The show was rubbish and locals voiced their disapproval by tearing up pages of brochures and guides and depositing the refuse on the floor. By the end of the day, certain areas took on the appearance of a really cheap ticker tape parade. In short, the show was crap.

A flight back to the UK and it's time to start taking this all in. This isn't the first recession felt by the Italians but have their attempts at bailing out the US car industry with the acquisition of Chrysler, got something to do with the poor showing in the European market? Why is Lancia basically dead, with Alfa hot on its heels? Why can't Fiat sell anything other than 500s and Pandas?

A friend of mine recently acquired a brand new Alfa Romeo MiTo - Alfa's MINI. Like me, he has a day job which requires extensive travel by car, and he is able to choose a new company car every few years. Enchanted by the MiTo's pretty looks and comparatively athletic Diesel engine, he overlooked the possibility of quality issues and the lack of a nearby dealer and filled in the order form.

The car arrived in May 2012 and was pressed into service. It started to fall to pieces within weeks. The first issues were corrosion of the wheel nuts and plastic interior trim falling off. "You've never had an Alfa before, have you sir?" was the response he got from the service reception when he set out his complaints. Only the rusted nuts were replaced, despite it being clear that the others would fail shortly thereafter. The trim was reapplied, only to pop off again.

Since then, the list of complaints in just 6 months is beyond comprehension: Wheel nuts replaced, mirror trim replaced, ventilation ducting replaced, centre console trim replaced, clutch foot rest replaced, aluminium pedal branding rubbed off completely (warranty claim refused), carpet mats worn right through, the passenger door has dropped off the hinge, and the oddment stowage box has been replaced.

The plastic under engine cowling has fallen off and the front wipers are so badly aligned that they have scraped the paint off the rear edge of the bonnet, right back to the bare metal, necessitating a respray. Whilst it's true that the car does more miles than most others, this is beyond a joke for a car that has not yet even seen out its first year. I should also observe at this point, that not every Alfa is like this. Perhaps this is just the Italian equivalent of the infamous BL 'Friday Car' or it's simply just a lemon.

But, given so many of these issues seem to relate to poorly designed trim and finish elements, it makes it hard to believe. When the oddment storage compartment failed, I examined the components carefully and was able only to compare the quality of the moulding and spring with something that you might find in a Christmas cracker. Why even bother making a car like this, if these simple things can not be made right? Perhaps the MiTo's bigger sister, Giulietta, is of superior construction but beyond this, who can tell? Because there are no more models in the range - the handsome 159, Spider and Brera models having silently shuffled away from showroom floors during 2011.

Instead, Fiat tried to fool us into buying Lancias badged as Chryslers. The Ypsilon, a peculiar looking but strangely appealing 5 door supermini and the Delta, a now very much late mid life stretched Fiat Bravo with LED lights being the only truly memorable feature. Both of these cars have little or no future beyond the point at which the rental fleets that bought them at a massive discount dispose of them at auction. Lancia is dead and this is perhaps no bad thing. It's a controversial thing to say, not least amongst car lovers because both Lancia and Alfa feature so heavily in the developmental history of the motor car. But unless Fiat Group do something truly drastic, and soon, they will be finished in their current form.

Alfa Romeo need to start selling cars. They have been suggested as the Italian equivalent of BMW and with their heritage and modicum of remaining enthusiast loyalty, it can be done. But not with a two car range. A genuinely premium small hatch needs to start rolling off new productions lines, with new staff and then they need competent executive saloons and SUVs to follow. It'll be these that get people into showrooms and if they proliferate in significant numbers, the badge kudos will get those with less money to spend in to buy the smaller cars. It almost happened with the 156 and 147 a decade ago, before the awful dealers ruined it all.

They, therefore need to be fixed too. It's not enough to give a Fiat franchise an extension to sell Alfa Romeo. There's an Aston Martin dealer in Surrey that sets a good example for what should be happening, by selling MiTos alongside the Vanquish, and having them serviced at the same location. But this sort of thing takes time, and time is not on Alfa's side. Which begs the question, would it not be better just to kill the brand off, and take a fresh view?

Maserati's star is rising. A great brand, a great name and, since having Ferrari take over, rarely has a foot been put wrong. Why not have an entire Maserati badged range, from premium hatchback right through to sports limousine? In so doing, an incredibly bright halo would be cast across the range and in the same period, whilst Alfa would be having yet another attempt to reinvent itself, factories would be busy churning out cars with the trident badge. Yes, the brand would be cheapened somewhat in the eyes of many - but how many BMW M6 customers care that in the same showroom is a flat white 116i with steel wheels?

Completely do away with Lancia, dispose of Alfa Romeo and then have three tiers - Fiat doing what they do best, namely building innovative small cars like the 500 and Panda, with associated, profit-generating spin offs. Maserati catering from the middle ground up to the limousine market and Ferrari turning out aggressive supercars using the latest technology. Any money saved can be spent on producing some decent TV adverts, something which Fiat have been completely awful at doing. And so more cars get sold, problem solved, economy fixed.

Alex Wakefield

Chic & Cheerful - Fiat's Nuova Cinquecento finds a fan..

Unless you're registered blind or housebound, you cannot have failed to have noticed the steady influx of the cuddly new Fiat 500 onto the nation's roads.

This unashamedly-nostalgic reworking of Fiat's classic from the 50s has stolen the hearts of thousands of style-savvy motorists not just here in the UK but throughout Europe and even further afield.

Even BSM have chopped in their fleet of staid Vauxhall Corsas as they rush to embrace the cheap running costs and undoubted stylistic attaction of the little Italian bambino.

Everyone it seems is anxious to get into one of these fun-filled retromobiles, and contributor Alexander Henry is no exception..

Unlike many people, I was never a fan of the original Mini. Perhaps it was memories of being driven to school in musty smelling British Leyland era versions in awful colours with plastic seats, bouncing along on rusted out subframes, or perhaps something else. But I didn’t like them. The reinvented BMW version when it came along in 2001 didn’t stand a chance then. Although I wasn’t keen on Issignosis’ original I was at least able to recognise its place in motoring history, an important brick in the wall of car development – clever use of space, suspension, drivetrain and value for money making it accessible to most. The new one to me missed the mark totally. It was none of these things. It had room for the driver and front passenger and nobody else. Or their stuff. It was bloody expensive. It wasn’t really British even. And worst of all, it rapidly became adopted by legions of estate agents. The MINI (as it is now known) could do nothing more to make me hate it, despite reports of it being good to drive.

This whole retro thing, started with the Beetle, taken over by the MINI didn’t float my boat. Both of these attempts to recapture the youthful, swinging spirit of the original cars seemed to be excessively cynical. The Beetle, built for pennies on an outdated Golf platform in Mexico, and powered by a VW Transporter engine in the wrong place was never going to last surely? And then came the reports of Citroen reinventing the 2CV and FIAT the 500. Citroen’s claims arrived in the form of the lumpen C3, but FIAT came good on their word, previewing the Trepiuno concept which was clearly on the verge of crawling down a production line. This new 500 confused me. I wanted one.

The fuss died down, I still hated the MINI and its estate agent clients, the Beetle continued to look more and more ridiculous, and occasional reports of nuova 500 progress appeared in the motoring press. I rediscovered my love for small Italian cars at about the same time FIAT was doing this themselves, purchasing one of the first of the excellent Grande Punto models – the first decent small Fiat since the Panda a few years beforehand, itself the first decent small Fiat since the original Punto was launched. FIAT had discovered their mojo again. Finally, the nuova 500 was a reality. The press had their cars, James May test drove one on Top Gear and pronounced it a joy, and not being able to wait, I set to work on the Italian language car configurator, forming my ideal car. All of a sudden this made sense. I was transported back to my childhood – seemingly infinite variations of colour, trim, specification, stickers, brightwork, engines. No limits. Every engine could be had in every trim, every colour, every option. I ordered the teaser brochure. This in itself was a marvel – a glossy A5 sized ring bound funpad, with stickers to move about and reposition, overlays and colour swatches.

When they announced it was only going to cost £7,900 in the UK, it was clear that my relationship with the Punto was coming to an end. Not so my outstanding finance on that car however, so it had to wait. A trip to the dealer managed to assuage any fears of it being too small to consider but a test drive had to be put off until February 2009. With my girlfriend in tow (actually, she was just as keen as I and drove it first) we set off in a posh Lounge specification car, powered by the 1.3 diesel engine. The ability of the car was remarkable. It felt solid, grown up, well made and put an enormous grin on my face as it was thrashed out of creepy Crawley on a test route. I always say that the worth of a car is always clear once you’ve had it up on two wheels and this demonstrator did not escape. It showed it was a proper FIAT, responding to every demand in the way I would expect.

With a motoring history averaging one car a year over 13 years, surprisingly only two of them were brand new. Choosing a new Clio in 1998 and even the Grande Punto in 2006, was fairly easy if underwhelming. Set the budget, choose the colour and that’s about it. When sat opposite the dealer having completed the test drive and committing to purchase, actually choosing a 500 is really rather difficult. Much was made of the MINI’s umpteen million spec combination and the 500 is much the same. Start with a blank canvas and make your own choice. To be honest, this could have been very difficult for me. As most around me will attest, I suffer from a form of selection anxiety. I find it distressing choosing breakfast cereal in Sainsbury’s and often linger here for several hours. Choosing a multipack of crisps has much the same effect on me. It’s one of the reasons my local supermarkets recently started opening 24 hours. And to the best of my knowledge there are only 83 kinds of cereal and 52 types of crisps. I had 500,000 Fiat 500 specifications to choose from.

Fortunately I had been practising for nearly two years already, since the car was launched in Italy. Many an evening definitely NOT wasted, spent configuring, saving, naming and recolouring – all in the name of research and an eventual aim. So where best to start? Number one consideration was budget. I’m not wealthy. I work in Insurance. I have a company car already which is quite posh. It was always going to be the Pop version, the entry level car. Not only this but the Lounge model which is the next one up has horrid seats and a glass roof which robs headroom. I didn’t like the wheels on the Sport version. These concerns and a firm belief that a small Fiat is always at its best in basic, solid paint and wheel trim form started me off. When it comes to cars, I believe in a law of diminishing returns – the basic car is always worth paying for if it’s good. You drive the chassis, the engine, the brakes, not the trinkets. Trinkets break and fall off, get tarnished and don’t pay you back what you forked out for them in the first place. With a basic version you get most of what the car means, for the least outlay.

You also get nicer seats.

The 1.2 petrol engine was chosen. This was the same motor as in my Punto, which was quite a lot bigger. It did the small FIAT petrol thing perfectly – loved to rev, sounded great, provided pace that belied its miniscule power rating and rewarded being driven HARD. In the 500 it’s a revelation. This engine is actually really old, but here it is clean, refined yet fizzy and economical. It’s the only motor to emit under 120 grams of CO2 and thus place it into £35 a year tax country, unless you include the diesel. A diesel in cars this size is always a false economy so this was rejected. It was always going to have the black ambience – steering wheel, seat belts, dash trim and inserts and seat tops and despite worries about stains, the red seats.

What colour outside? White. The only free colour. And the colour that works best. Everyone else seems to agree, literally every other one I see is finished in this colour. The car was ordered 14th February and duly Christened Valentino. I’ve never named a car before. I don’t think I have ever admitted in public that I have now done so either.

Valentino was delivered the day after my 30th birthday and we celebrated together with a tour of the South coast – Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight. Everywhere we went, the road ahead was scanned for other 500’s. Every one we spotted was flashed and (nearly) everyone waved back. This is a game I play over 6 months later and I never tire of it. It seems the 500 makes people smile. A Spring outing to the AutoItalia festival at Brooklands brought an enormous amount of pleasure with Valentino being parked with dozens of other cars, driving through the crowd thronged event on a beautiful sunny day sandwiched between Ferraris and Lamborghinis is something I will never forget.

The funny thing was that this modern interpretation of the original 500, a car which has a passionate following, was never questioned. Many an Issignonis Mini can be spotted wearing a ‘100% BMW FREE’ sticker. I’ve never heard nor seen any unpleasant comment from the original 500 brigade, despite the new one’s engine being in the wrong place, Beetle style. In fact, at Brooklands, new and old were parked up together like boys and girls at a primary school barn dance, only voluntarily.

The new 500 is a marvel. It’s £3000 less than the cheapest MINI. It’s smaller, yet has more space inside. It’s cleaner, more accessible and isn’t identified with hateful estate agents. OK, it’s not perfect – the ride is a little bouncy, the steering has no feel to speak of and some of the components feel a bit cheap but the return on the investment is staggering. And confidence must be high – BSM recently agreed to replace their entire Vauxhall fleet with the little FIAT and this can only be a good thing for residuals, with demand for used examples surely being pushed up by new drivers with wealthy parents looking to buy their offspring something they feel comfortable in. I’ve only seen girls learning in them though, which makes me wonder – how come I never feel at all.... metrosexual driving this car? How come I see so many blokes driving them and how come so many blokes seem to be driving powder blue examples? This is something I can never explain, although I did note that every original 500 I see is being piloted by a man, generally with a large beard.

Alexander Henry