Far from home – Fiat 500 vs Wales

Anyway, Topolinos popped up all over Italy. Unsurprisingly, production paused for a bit in the mid 1940s, but once the war was over it was ramped up to beyond previous levels as the Italian public began to mobilise. With 520,000 being made, Fiat knew that they had created a winning formula, and sought to improve it.

In 1957 they did just that, taking the wraps off of the creatively named Nuova 500 (New 500 in English). Essentially a scaled down version of the larger Fiat 600, it was an instant hit. Carrying on where the Topolino left off, it was still practical, it was still economical, but now it was something more - stylish. Giacosa was once again responsible for this cute design, and it’s still highly respected today.

Around four million Nuova 500s were churned out of the factory throughout its 18-year production run, bringing mobility to the masses in Italy and beyond. It had become an icon, pretty much universally praised for its no-nonsense attitude and sleek design. It was followed by a number of other small Fiats - the 126, the Cinquecento, the Seicento - but none had anything approaching the same appeal that the 500 did. This wasn’t helped by the arrival of the Smart ForTwo - tiny and good looking, it had essentially stolen Fiat’s thunder while it wasn’t looking.

Fiat wanted to change this. Enter the 2004 Trepiuno concept - a 3+1 hatchback, penned by Fiat Mutipla designer, Roberto Giolito, that bears a striking resemblance to the original classic. It’s the talk of the Geneva motor show, and it’s clear that it’s both far too advanced and far too popular to remain a concept car.

The public didn’t have to wait long for it to hit the showrooms. Treated to a subtle redesign by Frank Stephenson, who had proven form with retro redesigns in the form of the Mini, the production 500 looked almost identical to the Trepiuno when it was launched in 2007. Its cutesy styling and four seat layout really channelled the spirit of its 1950s forbear, and it was an instant hit - in its first ten years of production alone, it sold over two million units.

It’s worth noting that its production run has been far from monotonous. No fewer than six different engines have powered the 500, ranging from the famed 0.9-litre two-cylinder TwinAir to the surprisingly refined 1.4-litre diesel MultiJet and even a US-only electric version.

There was no shortage of special edition variants, either. In fact, with over 20 different limited-run models celebrating everything from Riva yachts to Barbie, it’s hard to think of any car that spawned more forms than the 500 - and that’s before you even look at the hot Abarths.

As it approaches its 17th birthday, still largely unchanged from the day it first hit the showrooms (though a 2016 facelift brought new bumpers and an updated interior to the table), the model range has calmed down a bit. Gone are the days of multiple engines and gearboxes - if you’re buying a new 500 in 2023, you’re faced with the slightly meagre option of a 1.0-litre inline-four with mild hybrid assistance, paired to a six-speed manual gearbox. The special editions have been decimated, though the Red edition (made to support an AIDS charity, and finished in - you guessed it - red) is clinging on for life.

One thing hasn’t changed though, and that’s its intended use case. The 500 was always envisioned - and was certainly marketed - as a tiny city car, a sort of motorised fashion accessory that was much more at home navigating Notting Hill than the North Pennines. Much like the original Audi TT, it gained a reputation as something of a hairdresser’s car - a vehicle for those who cared more about how their car looked than how it drove.

But how does it fare on a proper roadtrip? Is there more than meets the eye?

There’s only really one way to find out. My trusty steed for the journey is a 2018 500 Collezione, with the 1.2-litre FIRE engine (which can trace its roots back to 1985) and a five-speed manual transmission. This was traditionally the most popular engine option before pure-petrol ones were taken off sale, and I’d argue that it’s one of the best. Sure, it lacks the pace and punchiness of the 0.9-litre, 105bhp TwinAir sport engine and it’s not as efficient as the 1.0-litre hybrid from current lineup, but it’s more refined than the former and although it has the same power as the latter, it’s both faster and lighter than it, due to the lack of a battery pack and motor to lug around.

You might be wondering what sets the Collezione apart from the normal 500 of the time, and I’m afraid that the answer doesn’t help its poser image. It was basically a paint-and-stickers job to make its buyers feel a little bit smug when talking to owners of the base model. If you forked out upwards of £14,000 when it was revealed in early 2018, you could expect to receive chrome trim all around, some very nice 16-inch alloy wheels and a choice of split-tone livieres, dividing the car horizontally.

This one is rarer than most, though, as it forgoes the livery. It’s finished in the hilariously named shade of Epic Blue, a metallic coat which, depending on the light it’s viewed in, can be anywhere from a deep purple to a fetching green. It really is a fantastic colour.

It’s also more special than most, at least to me. That’s because it doesn’t belong to a press fleet, or some mad Fiat 500 collector - it actually belongs to my mum. It’s her third one, she liked them that much.

Anyway, it’s time for me to hit the road. The plan is to end up in North Wales and trickle down to the south, but first I have to get there from my Dorset home. That means a 320-mile motorway slog - something that I don’t look forward to in any car.

If I could use just one word to describe this car on the motorway, it would be loud. The 500’s bubble-shaped cabin might be nice to look at and provides a surprisingly reasonable amount of headroom, but you get the sense that it really isn’t the most aerodynamic. The howl of the wind is actually slightly alarming at times, sounding like it’s ready to crack the roof off like a tin of sardines.

There’s a notable lack of sound deadening from underneath, too, with road roar echoing through the cabin, and we haven’t even mentioned the engine yet. The five-speed gearbox might be great around town, but at 70mph it’s buzzing away at about 3000rpm. I turn up the radio to try and drown it out, but it’s a fruitless endeavour - for my music to be louder than all of this, it has to be at a truly ear-splitting volume.

That said, it rides well on the motorway, and the lorry-driver style seating position works wonders for long-distance comfort if you’re not on speaking terms with the height of six feet. Aside from around 30 seconds of extreme back pain about three hours in, I’m comfortable for the whole journey - a genuine surprise.

It takes me around seven hours to reach the Isle of Anglesey, where I’m greeted by the slightly scary crosswind experience I mentioned earlier. When I arrive at my hotel, I’m not as ruined as I expected to be, though all the noise has given me a hefty headache.

The next morning, I’m up at first light to try and make the most of Wales before the roads get too busy. First stop - the small town of Menai Bridge. Named for the treacherous yet beautiful stretch of water it sits on and the impressive bridge that towers over it, it’s the sort of place that the 500 should feel right at home in, and it does. Its diminutive size (it’s less than 1700mm wide, around 200mm narrower than a Range Rover Evoque) and ultra-light steering, at least when in City Steering mode, make the miniature streets of this picturesque village seem as wide as a motorway.

I stop for a photo under the bridge, often said to be the world’s first major suspension bridge. At 417 metres long and with the road deck 30 metres above sea level, it really does make the 500 feel quite small….

Pics snapped, it’s time to head into Snowdonia. As I climb into the mountains, it’s immediately clear how little power 69bhp really is - at multiple points I find myself shifting down to third gear just to keep some upwards momentum. The four-pot is screaming away just to keep itself going - not a great sign.

I finally reach the summit of a great mountain road - the famed Llanberis Pass - and begin the drop into the valley beyond. This must surely be one of the finest pieces of road in the country if you can get there before the tourists arrive, and the 500 really starts to come alive on it. Weighing in at just 975kg and with 185mm tyres on the front, you can really throw it into a corner and trust it to come out of the other side.

Understeer isn’t really a word that’s in the 500’s vocabulary - if anything, it’s far happier to start to swing the back out. Like any front-wheel drive car with a short wheelbase, lift-off oversteer is something to keep an eye out for, but it’s easy to tell when it’s coming and to prevent it accordingly. Sure, it rolls around a bit, but of course it will, and it’s less apparent than it is in many of its rivals.

The gearbox is far more fun than it ought to be, too. It’s very high up - get into any other manual car after driving it, and I guarantee that you’ll find yourself reaching for thin air at some lofty elevation in front of the centre console - but it feels strangely natural. The throw is short and satisfying, and it’s located within a very close distance to the steering wheel, meaning that when you need to change gear, you’ve got your hands off of it for the least amount of time possible. That wheel is brilliant too - it’s almost comically large, allowing you a degree of finesse despite the electric steering not being the most feelsome.

The great thing about such a low-powered car is that you can really get into the thick of it without troubling the speed limit. You might feel like you’re setting a pace that Carlos Sainz Sr would struggle to keep up with on a tarmac rally stage, but when you look down you’re barely tickling 60mph. Keeping it at speed on these hilly roads is very much a momentum game - to get anywhere fast you need to be thinking three corners ahead, working out where to give it a bit more beans than usual to carry the pace up the next steep hill. It’s an entirely different experience to a hot hatch, and it’s some of the most fun I’ve ever had in a car.

As the road drops down towards a lake, I really lean into this soapbox-style driving technique. Heel-and-toeing it down through the gears as the tarmac drops into a series of tight turns through a forest, it’s hard to imagine anything being better suited to this bit of road than this. With a width that can’t make its mind up, it often narrows to a point where I’d be sweating at the mere idea of taking a proper sports car through, but in this I just can’t stop smiling.

I spend hours - not to mention a full tank of fuel - bounding my way through other fantastic roads. I’m still surprised at how well the suspension handles the numerous crests that can be found out here - it’s not a car you want to go full Dukes of Hazzard in, but it deals with small hops well, and the ride isn’t as crashy as I first thought. If anything, it actually seems smoother out here than it does in town, and the roads certainly aren’t any better than they are in an urban setting.

After a quick trip out to Barmouth to take a look at my second very impressive bridge of the day, it’s time for lunch. I sit on a hillside near Machynlleth in what’s known as the Mach Loop, a low-flying training area. I’ve been here before and seen nothing, but today I strike gold - a series of F-35 jets pass through, so low that I’m almost looking down on them. The noise and the power can be felt as they rocket down the valley - the 500 certainly doesn’t have the same effect.

I’ve got one last place on my North Wales hit list - the dam at Nant-Y-Moch. I’m navigating with Waze - the 500’s infotainment is borderline impossible to use - and it suggests a twisty-looking route that goes over the mountains. Come on, you’d go that way too, wouldn’t you?

As the road begins to get steeper and narrower, I begin to think that I may have made a mistake. I’m finding hills so aggressive that I have to shift down into first just to get up them - this clearly isn’t the road it looked to be. This is compounded once the surface changes to gravel…

It might not be what I expected, but I’ve found myself in a private rally paradise. A wide but smooth logging track that climbs up the side of one of North Wales’s many peaks, it’s entirely deserted, save for me and my mighty 500.

Having driven on gravel a couple of times before, I’m perhaps not as wary as I ought to be. While I’m not bombing it around, I’m certainly having fun. The 500 is well suited for this - with that short wheelbase and front-wheel drive setup, it’s almost like it was meant to be a rally car. 

The track keeps going, climbing higher and higher and not getting any rougher. I think I’ve found a fantastic way to get to my destination, until I reach a locked gate. Blast.