My favourite type of car is a small car. Small cars require the greatest amount of creative nous. Just as a Rolls-Royce is the easiest new car to engineer because it has the fewest compromises (although that didn’t stop Maybach screwing it up), so a game-changing tot is the hardest. Little wonder that a disproportionate number of ‘cars of genius’ have been small (the Bugatti-designed Peugeot Bebe, the first Mini, 1957 Fiat 500, Renault 5, and many others). It is also true that many of the world’s worst cars have been small, as cynical companies engineer low-cost cars to low standards.
Good small cars are a hoot to drive. More than any other type of car, they are an extension of you. I like their intuitive road manners. They are agile, alert, quick-witted and spry, as much trusted pet as automotive appliance. Around town, my Peugeot 107 – triple cylinder engine humming cheerfully – is rather more fun to drive than any Porsche or Ferrari. A Ferrari in town makes about as much sense as Michael Phelps in a paddling pool.
The best small cars are ‘think different’
The best small cars are never merely downsized big cars. They are ‘think different’ in configuration and conception. The original Mini revolutionised car architecture because it had to be small. If Issigonis had another two feet of length to play with, we may all still be driving cars with the Model T’s mechanical layout.
So, as a small car fan, I have had an interesting few weeks driving three new little cars: the Mini Countryman, Audi A1 and Fiat 500 Twin Air.
The Countryman: more Transit than go-kart
I did not like the Countryman, not least because it is not ‘mini’, no matter what it says on the tin. It is a bloated blighter, 400kg more than a Fiesta in Cooper D ALL4 form, as tested. Plus it has less practicality than the (narrower, lower, barely longer) Golf. It may have ‘emotional appeal’. But it has no more rational appeal than the comical Clubman. Its dynamics were especially disappointing: restless to drive never flowing fluently down the road, the steering heavy and artificial, the ride thumpy. There is little of the élan or agility that so endears with the normal Mini hatch.
Audi A1: only the second-best small Audi of the past five years
The Audi A1 is better. It is well made, handsome in a very Audi-generic (and unadventurous) way, and has a nice (if equally unimaginative) cockpit. But there is nothing remotely clever about it. It is a downsized A3, a smaller cut of the familiar Audi sausage. It is also, in many ways, a pricier Polo, and feels it. Thus it is a good car, but not a special one. I kept thinking how much more impressive was the marvellous aluminium Audi A2 – smaller, lighter (by 200kg!), more aerodynamic, more versatile (not least, five doors) and so much more inventive! It died, prematurely, in 2005, one of the best small cars of the past decade. It’s place, in the Audi line-up, was taken by the Q7. So one of the most praiseworthy of cars gave way to one of the most horrid.
Fiat Twin Air: the best 500 so far
By far the most cheerful of the three ‘tots’ was the 500 Twin Air. It is the smallest, lightest and cheapest, which is a good start. Fiat also has an unmatched record at building great small cars, unlike Audi and BMW. It shows, not least in space efficiency and versatility.
The new twin-cylinder engine is the perfect mate for the 500. It has a tuneful and appealing thrum (yet is deceptively quiet at big revs) and the turbo gives it a terrific energy boost, charging serenely up hills. This is the engine that the 500 has deserved, mechanical charm complementing styling character. With a 40 percent economy improvement over Fiat’s similar-performance 1.4 four-pot motor, it is also proof that there’s life yet in the petrol internal combustion engine.