The latest sign that the product planners and marketers at Fiat and Chrysler have muffed the launch of the Dodge Dart is the announcement that their Dundee, Michigan engine plant that builds the Dart’s turbocharged 1.4 liter Multiair FIRE engine has fired or reassigned 58 employees and is eliminating a second shift. The shift reduction follows remarks at the 2013 NAIAS media preview by Fiat boss Sergio Marchionne blaming poor Dart sales on the powertrain offerings. “The powertrain solutions we made available to that car, in today’s world, in hindsight, were not the ideal solution,” Mr. Marchionne said. Consumers have been disappointed in sluggish performance of the Dart.  TTAC reviewer Michael Karesh said that 1.4 L turbo motor was “soft south of 3,000 rpm”.

In the critical C segment, where many manufacturers sell 200,000 (or in the case of the Honda Civic >300,000) cars a year in North America, the Dart sold only about 25,000 units since it was introduced in July.

The Dundee plant, originally a joint venture between Chrysler, Mitsubishi and Daimler, is Chrysler’s only American factory that makes four cylinder engines. After the changes, the plant will still employ 750 people. In the personnel moves, fourteen probationary employees were let go (the UAW is appealing their termination) and another 44 were reassigned to other jobs. Chrysler spokesperson Jodi Tinson put a positive face on the plant announcement, since the same factory will soon start building more of the 2.4 liter TigerShark engine that Chrysler hopes will be a better fit for consumers, but her comments more or less acknowledge that product planners made a mistake with the Darts that first hit the showrooms. “We have a new powertrain for the Dart coming online, and so we are rebalancing the mix for the Dart.”

According to Marchionne, another drivetrain improvement for the Dart, a nine-speed automatic transmission supplied by ZF, won’t be ready until 2014.

The Dart is the first new Chrysler product that wasn’t already in the pipeline when Marchionne and his minions were gifted the company by the U.S. government’s task force on restructuring GM and Chrysler. If I’m not mistaken, the production of a MPG small car was part of the government’s conditions on Fiat’s control of the Auburn Hills automaker. The piecemeal way in which the Dart’s powertrain choices are being expanded gives the impression that the car was rushed to market, using whatever they had on the shelf, in this case the 1.4L turbo, originally intended for a smaller car, the Fiat 500.

Ronnie Schreiber edits Cars In Depth, a realistic perspective on cars & car culture and the original 3D car site. If you found this post worthwhile, you can dig deeper at Cars In Depth. If the 3D thing freaks you out, don’t worry, all the photo and video players in use at the site have mono options. Thanks for reading – RJS

A few months back, Bertel decreed that TTAC would have no more duplicate reviews. If we wanted to test a car that had already been reviewed, we’d better have a dramatically different take on it. I had a FIAT 500 Abarth for the week. Jack and Alex had already covered it on track and off. I thought someone had a comparison with the MINI Cooper S on the way. What else could I possibly compare the Abarth to that would make sense? It’s not like there are any other high-performance Italian hatchbacks offered in North America…

You’re a single guy (not me) with an appointment to keep (sadly, me) when you happen across a supermodel. You have only a few minutes to spare, but you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t chance a pass, and she’s going to reject you anyway. Except Jeff Cauley is a top-notch dealer with enough of a sense of humor to agree to an “Italian hatchback comparison test.” So here we have all of the insight I could glean from a quickie with “this is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy” looping inside my skull.

There are some differences between the FIAT 500 Abarth and the Ferrari FF. We’ll cover those. But the similarities are uncanny. For $1,590, you can grace the fenders of your FF with “Scuderia Ferrari” shields. These are yellow topped with the Italian tricolor.

The Abarth’s fenders include shields as standard equipment. They’re smaller in size, with a scorpion rather than a horse (startled by a scorpion?) displayed sable, but the colors are the same.

A 2+2 two-door hatchback configuration distinguishes both cars from alternatives. The rear seats might barely fit adults, but they’ll do in a pinch, and should serve well with smaller humans. The FF has a considerable edge in cargo volume with the rear seat up (15.9 cubic feet vs. 9.5), but it goes away when the seat is folded (28.3 vs. 26.5).

Matching fitted luggage isn’t available from the FIAT factory at any price, much less $9,967, but there are other ways to contain your empties.

The leather inside the FF is of very high quality, and covers nearly every surface. Nearly every creature comfort is either standard or (in some unexpected cases) optional. Cruise control adds $1,067, a parking camera $3,463, and a dual-screen rear seat entertainment system $5,298. The nav system is as easy to use as that in a Chrysler, perhaps because it’s the same unit. The reconfigurable LCD instruments effectively convey a huge amount of information. (Hopefully they prove as durable as they are functional.) But you can find equally opulent cabins in cars that cost half as much.

Similarly, the Abarth’s decidedly less organic interior materials resemble those in cars that cost roughly half as much (though the red-stitched and upholstered instrument binnacle is a nice touch). Unlike in the Ferrari, cruise control is standard. Nav is provided by a portable unit that plugs into a hole atop the dash, but at least it only adds $400. As with the FF, you’re mostly paying for performance hardware.

What sort of hardware? The FF is powered by a normally-aspirated 6.3-liter engine that produces 660 horsepower (PS) at its 8,000 rpm redline. Torque peaks at a similarly lofty 6,000 rpm, but there’s plenty to be found just off idle, courtesy of the Vette-like displacement. Not that you’ll want to keep revs low. The V12′s tenor wail, more like that of a sport bike than any non-Italian car, is pistonhead nirvana, with never a note out of place. No manual transmission is offered, perhaps because none would be nearly as quick nor as smooth as the rear-mounted seven-speed automated dual-clutch unit. An ingenious all-wheel-drive system is standard. Instead of a transfer case, it employs a two-speed automatic transmission connected to a clutch pack for each wheel to grab power as needed (to maintain stability and traction) from the front of the engine. Is it quick? Of course it’s quick, so quick that you can barely scratch the powertrain’s potential at semi-legal speeds on public roads. In track testing, sixty arrives in about 3.5 seconds. This said, there’s more of a sensation of speed than in some other extremely powerful cars, where you arrive at 60 with little memory of the trip.

Does the thought of clutches that must continuously slip to do their job scare you? Or perhaps your environmental sensibilities cannot tolerate EPA ratings of 11 city and 17 highway? Then the 28/34 500 might be more your thing. For the Abarth, FIAT turbocharges the 500′s 1.4-liter four-cylinder engine to yield 160 horsepower at 5,500 rpm. Unless you forget to hit the sport button, in which case the engine peaks around 135 horsepower, the throttle lags, and the car feels unworthy of its fancy badges. So be sure to hit the button to the right of the red-stitched, flat-bottomed steering wheel each time you start the car.

Even with the sport button pushed, there’s little torque below 3,000 rpm even after the turbo spools up. The Abarth’s song isn’t remotely as refined as the FF’s, such that “song” seems an ill-chosen term, but what it lacks in quality it strives to make up for in quantity. Some will find its boom, snap, and crackle overly raucous, but for me the Abarth’s drone is reasonably low when cruising and its exhaust doesn’t bark loudly on deceleration the way the Dodge Neon SRT4′s (tuned by some of the same folks) did. The five-speed’s shifter is mounted oddly high, its shift feel is slightly sloppy, and the clutch vaguely grabs at the very top of its long travel. Despite this iffy execution, a conventional manual remains the best partner for the Abarth’s engine. A good thing, as no automated option is offered. The front wheels are driven all the time, the rears never. As in the Ferrari, the engine’s testa is dressed in rossa.

For a mere $1,445 you can get the FF’s massive calipers (which squeeze 15.7-inch rotors) in red.

The Abarth has red calipers as a standard feature (perhaps because less paint is needed). Its smaller brakes are charged with retarding far less curb weight, 2,512 vs. 4,145 pounds.

Both cars have reasonably raked windshields and so no need for extra-deep instrument panels. But here the similarity of their driving positions ends. To achieve a 47/53 weight distribution, Ferrari mounted the FF’s long engine entirely behind the front axle, yielding a very long hood. For less obvious reasons, the FF also happens to be very wide. Consequently, while the FF might feel lighter than it is, it doesn’t feel smaller than it is. Instead, it feels at least as large as a Panamera, and similar in overall character. The tape measure reports similar dimensions (193.2 x 76.9 x 54.3 inches vs. 195.6 x 76.0 x 55.8). The FF has less length abaft the driver but more inches ahead, and you sit a little lower behind a taller instrument panel and longer hood. But, compared to the driving position in one of the science fiction experiments from Lamborghini, the FF’s is downright practical.

The Abarth’s driving position occupies the opposite extreme. You sit so high that the car feels tippy even though, once the firm suspension takes a set, it’s not. Seat adjustments are far more limited than in the Ferrari, and unless you’re in the left tail of the bell curve you won’t be using the one for height. There’s far less hood ahead of you, and you don’t see the little there is. Excellent for forward visibility, not so good for sporting character.

During my test drive, where the FF’s suspension remained well within its capabilities, the car felt every bit as balanced as one with a 47/53 weight distribution should. The throttle can be used to nudge the rear end around, and the FF feels more lively than the typical all-wheel-drive car, perhaps because in balls-short-of-the-wall dry road driving the front wheels are declutched. The FF’s steering is light yet fairly communicative and shockingly quick (perhaps even too quick for such a large car). Compared to a Porsche Panamera, it takes longer (and longer than I had) to become acclimated behind the control-festooned wheel of the FF. The Porsche, while also feeling like a super-sized sports car, is a more intuitive car to drive quickly. But even in casual driving the FF engages. Once everything is tweaked to taste (a mind-boggling number of adjustments are available, but unlike in the FIAT the settings appear to be retained when the car is turned off) and the Ferrari becomes familiar it would no doubt be the more satisfying car to drive.

Simply due to its could-hardly-be-more-different dimensions, proportions, and weight distribution (64/36), the Abarth handles much differently. Contrary to some other reports, understeer isn’t excessive, but you’ll never forget that the FIAT is a tall, nose-heavy, front-wheel-drive car. Despite its much more compact dimensions and lesser weight (1,600 vs. 1,950 pounds) over narrower front tires (205/40ZR17 vs. 245/35ZR20), the Abarth’s steering is less communicative and lacks the quickness I expect in a tiny hatchback. No surprise given its much shorter wheelbase (90.6 vs. 117.7 inches), higher center of gravity, and far less sophisticated suspension, the Abarth also doesn’t ride nearly as smoothly as the Ferrari. The FF might also have the Panamera beat in this last aspect.

The FIAT 500 Abarth starts at $22,700. The 17-inch wheels add one grand. Leather adds another. A convenience package, nav, and red mirrors plus stripes (a box I’d uncheck) bumped the tested car’s price to $26,200. On the one hand, this seems a little steep given the car’s size, performance potential, and amenities. Another thousand will get you a roomier, much more capable and considerably more enjoyable MazdaSpeed3. On the other hand, the Abarth’s price is well under one-tenth of the Ferrari’s. The FF is theoretically available for just $298,750. But options added over $60,000 to the car I drove, and over $100,000 to another in the showroom. Air freight (not included in the sub-300 price) added $5,000 to a car that had been shipped to Michigan, $9,000 to one that had originally deplaned in Arizona. It’s not clear if the gas guzzler tax is included in the base price or buried in a substantial “other options” figure (both cars included far more items than could fit on the window sticker).

So, which Italian hatchback is the best one for you? The FF is an exercise in what happens when cost isn’t much of an object and the sheet starts clean. You fit a highly-tuned, naturally-aspirated V12 for seamless power, mount it far back for balance, pair it with an automated manual for quick responses, and employ all-wheel-drive on an as-needed basis for traction. The apparently unavoidable downsides of all this optimization are size, weight, and cost. Enough money fixes the last, and the second isn’t terribly evident, but the first doesn’t ever go away. The FF is very much the ultimate expression (until its replacement arrives) of the GT concept. For similar performance in a smaller car, you’re going to have to give up some cylinders, the rear seat, a lot of luggage capacity, or all of the above.

Perhaps you want a tidier hatchback that can be more fully exploited on public roads at legal speeds. Or your budget simply doesn’t extend north of $300,000. But you also want Italian style complete with red highlights everywhere the Ferrari has them and tricolor fender badges. Then the Abarth is the obvious choice.

Cauley Ferrari in West Bloomfield, MI, provided the FF. For those with smaller budgets, Cauley also operates a used car dealership with its heart in the right place—you’ll find no boring cars on the lot. They can be reached at 866-353-8629.

FIAT provided the 500 Abarth with insurance and a tank of gas.

Michael Karesh operates truedelta.com, a provider of car reliability and pricing information.

We decided to take a family vacation this summer in Italy, starting in Florence and driving into rural Tuscany to spend a mellow week in a rental villa near some friends. I reserved a “Ford Focus or equivalent” with Hertz and, after a thoroughly unpleasant hour in the queue (“not exactly” indeed), they handed me the keys to an Alfa Romeo Giulietta with a manual transmission, two liter turbo diesel. Forza Italia! I now had one week with the sort of car that American TTAC readers often like to grouse about their inability to buy at home.

First up, the snout. To my American eyes, modern Alfa Romeo cars are very striking. You’ll not mistake them for anything else… at least if you’re looking from the front. That upside-down-triangle grill is loud and proud. While the earlier Alfa 159 accompanied it with a thin headlight bar that gave the resulting car an angry, sharp, purposeful appeal, the Giulietta softens the grill with rounded headlights and front fascia. More than one native Italian we met took positive note of the car.

Enough about styling. How about practicality? The hatchback is big. It’s not as deep as the trunk in our Acura TL but it’s usefully taller, and definitely has more usable space than a VW Golf. All our bags fit comfortably back there with room to spare. Many of the little details of the Alfa are comparable to what you might find in a Golf: switchblade key, comfortable cloth seats with limited manual adjustments, baseball-sized shift knob, etc. Still, the Italians couldn’t help themselves with style over substance. My daughter, 7 years old, had to reach up as high as she could to open the back door, since they moved the handle up next to the C-pillar. My wife, five feet tall, had trouble reaching up to close the hatch when it was open. As the driver, I appreciated the tilt and telescoping wheel. I didn’t appreciate that the clock was in tiny lettering that my passengers couldn’t see.

Interior room is great. The backseat has plenty of space for real adults. The driving position has you sitting relatively high. You have a very good feel for your four corners, which is deeply necessary when navigating some of the smaller streets in old Italian cities and towns.

On to the driving! The diesel has all the benefits and drawbacks that you’d expect. The low redline means you’re shifting much earlier than your gasoline-trained instincts tell you. Likewise, you can run at a much lower RPM than any small gasoline engine would ever tolerate. The computer nags you to shift early, seemingly trying its best to keep the engine under 1200rpm. At a low engine speed like that, you can put your foot down and damn near nothing happens at all. The engine’s personality completely changes around 2000rpm, when the turbo spools up and you suddenly feel the power. Shift before the redline and you’re still in the power band and life’s good. This contrasts, for example, with the Hyundai Veloster (1.6 liter non-turbo, manual) that I test drove a few months ago for giggles. Wind the Veloster up to the redline, shift, and you’ve got nothing. The Giulietta does much better (as, I hope, does the Veloster Turbo). For what it’s worth, the Giulietta’s gear and clutch feel are nothing particularly special. There’s none of Honda’s awesome snickety-snick shifting, and the Giulietta’s clutch grab point is a bit nebulous.

The real standout feature of the Giulietta is its suspension. During our vacation, we ranged from cobblestone streets to zippy autostrada, from smooth twisty cutbacks to bumpy gravel side roads. The Giulietta’s suspension is all about trying to preserve some dignity when faced with punishing roads. Yes, you’ll feel it when driving over crap, but the Giulietta damps out a lot of the vibrations while still keeping things relatively tight. The few times I did some “spirited” driving through the twisties, the car felt comfortable and composed. Still, this is no racing car. Does the Giulietta have “passion and soul” and lovely growling exhaust notes as Top Gear’s James May notes of earlier Alfas?  Maybe the gasoline engines do, but for the diesel, no. It’s a nice car, but you won’t fall in love with it.

Deep down inside, I’m a gadget guy, and this is where the Giulietta let me down. The base-model stereo in our car had no aux input for my phone. According to the owner’s manual, you only get that ten-cent jack with the much pricier “Blu & Me” package. (And, at least on the Fiat 500 I once played with at a Texas dealership, Blu & Me doesn’t include Bluetooth A2DP for stereo music streaming. Boo, hiss!) This was probably the most obvious place where some Fiat Group beancounter blew it for everybody.

Once I figured out how to convert the onscreen menus to English, I saw a long list of adjustments, but no way to fix the things that were most annoying. Foremost, the car raises holy screaming hell if one of your passengers unbuckles before the car has come to a complete stop. Also annoying: the car insists on asking you to shift early and often. What you can do, however, is change the car from “normal” to “dynamic” mode. According to the owner’s manual, this increases max torque by 10%, which you’d never notice. However, it replaces the shift indicator light with the Alfa “DNA” logo. Yes indeed, 10% less guilt definitely improves driving dynamics.

Other gadgety features: the Giulietta will turn the engine off when waiting at a light. Once you push the clutch in, the engine starts back up all by itself. Despite this, if you were dumb enough to turn the key with the car in gear and the clutch engaged, the starter motor happily tries to drag the car along; the ignition doesn’t require you to have the clutch pedal down. (Yes, go ahead, ask me how I figured that out.) The Giulietta has a hill holding feature that works pretty well. It has a rear sonar parking assist to help you nudge your car as far back as it can go. The lights and wipers also have automatic modes. It even auto-restarts the engine if you stall it. (Yes, sigh.)

What about mileage? About half of our driving time was on the autostrada, half on local twisty roads. According to the trip computer, we averaged 5.8 l / 100 km (40.5 mpg). This is the same as the Giulietta’s official “city” mileage rating. (Wikipedia has all the stats.) The Giulietta’s official “combined” rating is 4.7 l / 100km (50 mpg). My freeway driving was pretty sedate, since I wasn’t keen to get ticketed by the autostrada’s ubiquitous speed cameras, so this means that mountain driving, with the turbo spooled up and driving with proper engine braking, is unsurprisingly detrimental to this car’s mileage. At the end of the trip, before I handed the car back, I spent roughly $100 filling the tank for 800 km of driving, with maybe a quarter of a tank left. (What great range!) To drive the same distance and style in my Acura TL, with it’s super-unleaded-mandatory V6, I would have expected to have averaged 20 mpg, yielding roughly the same dollar-cost-per-mile, assuming you’re comfortable with my comparing U.S. gasoline prices with a big V6 sedan against European diesel prices with a smaller turbo 4-cylinder car.

In Europe, the value proposition of the Giulietta is clear: high mileage and excellent interior space in a car that fits into smaller places while giving you decent amounts of “sport” and “style”. Today, in the U.S., the closest car you can buy to the Giulietta is the new Dodge Dart. It’s the same basic platform, but of course you can’t get the diesel or the hatchback. The big question: if cars like the Giulietta diesel or the comparable BMW 180d Sport were offered in the States, how well would they sell? Based on my week in the Giulietta, I’d imagine they could do quite well.

Abarth was founded in 1952 as a “one-stop-shop” for Fiat performance gear. What does that have to do with the 2012 Fiat 500 Abarth? Nothing. Seriously. In 1971 Abarth was purchased by Fiat, by the 1990s the “brand” had deteriorated to a trim level on questionable hatchbacks and by 2000 it was “dead trim walking.” In 2007 Fiat decided they needed a performance brand once again and resurrected Abarth with the inexplicably named “Fiat Grande Punto Abarth” and (more importantly) a complete line of clothing and accessories. Despite the apparent soft start for the brand in the Euro-zone, Fiat tells us they held nothing back for the launch of Abarth in North America. Our own tame racing driver Jack took the Abarth for a spin on the track back in March but this time we’re pitting Italy’s hot hatch against a bigger challenge: the daily commute.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Unlike the Mercedes takeover merger with Chrysler last century, the Fiat/Chrysler tie-up seems to be bearing some interesting fruit. No, I’m not talking about Chrysler’s use of MultiAir in the Dart, or the cozy relationship with ZF Friedrichshafen AG (ZF transmissions), I’m talking about Fiat getting Chrysler’s engineers involved in Fiat designs. Say what? You heard that right, the North American Abarth is not the same car as the Euro model and we can thank Chrysler. Because Fiat knew there had to be some changes for North American consumption, they told the SRT group to think outside the “Americanization” box. The result is an Abarth that borrows heavily from the Euro model but has some significant improvements. Yes, improvements.

Exterior

With just over 40,000 Fiat 500s of any description driving around on our shores, the design is unique enough to cause traffic to slow and heads to turn. As you would expect, there are plenty of go-fast tweaks on the outside of the small Italian. Out back we get a larger spoiler, ginormous dual-exhaust tips, rear diffuser and a different bumper cover. Up front the changes are more pronounced. In order to make the engine and intercoolers fit, Fiat stretched the nose of the 500 by 2.7 inches. The result of the rhinoplasty is a peculiar “trouty mouth” side profile caused by the hood stamping remaining the same. Despite this faux pas fopah (I kid, I kid), the rest of the 500′s sheetmetal is cohesive and attractive, in a way the MINI Coupé can only dream of. Rounding out the sport treatment is a 15mm reduced ride height with unique 16-inch wheels standard, and optional 17-inch wheels (the 17s are wrapped in low-profile performance rubber.)

Interior

Fiat and the SRT team tweaked the interior for Abarth duty, but the basics of the base 500′s $15,500 interior are still here. That being said, all the touch surfaces in the Abarth are close to haptic perfection with one of the best steering wheels and shift knobs available in a vehicle under $40,000. I should point out that the Abarth’s most logical competition comes from MINI, a brand known for blending expensive switchgear and steering wheels with cheesy headliners and carpet. With the Abarth’s interior bits only a notch below MINI, the decidedly lower sticker price forgives just about everything in my mind. When it comes to hauling luggage, the 500 somehow trumps the MINI Cooper with 9.5 cubic feet of cargo space with the seats in place and 26.8 with them folded (vs 5.7 / 24 cubic feet in the Cooper.)

Not all is perfect inside. The American Abarth gets unique front seats that are (oddly enough) more heavily bolstered than the standard Euro seats, but the distinct lack of lumbar support made them uncomfortable for my average sized 6-foot 180lb frame. While the Euro Abarth has optional Recaro-themed sport seats and plenty of after market alternatives, American buyers have somewhat limited options if they choose to replace the seats. This is important if you intend to track you Abarth and need to install a 5-point harness. Still, I keep returning to price. Mini’s JCW seats aren’t more comfortable, and since the Abarth is considerably cheaper, you can more easily afford to fix this deficiency. Like the regular 500, the rear seats are small, but thanks to the 500′s roof profile and the shape of the rear “foot-wells”, it is entirely possible to fit four 6-foot tall adults in the 500.

Infotainment

Like base 500 models, all Abarths are equipped with “Blue & Me.” This system combines Bluetooth integration and rudimentary voice commands. If you were expecting SYNC-like iDevice or USB control, you’ll be disappointed with the 2007-era interface. It’s too complicated to explain in print, so if you’d like to know more, check out our TTAC Quick Clips video of the base 500C. Also standard on the Abarth is Fiat’s seven speaker Bose audio system which uses a compact subwoofer under the passenger seat. Sound quality is excellent, not just for the price class the Abarth plays in, but for vehicles twice the Abarth’s $22,000 base price ($25,000 as equipped.) While the audio system’s balance is very good, with such a small driver in the sub, if you are into big bass, install your own beatbox.

Because 6 years is an eternity in the electronics world, you can’t get a fancy integrated navigation system like MINI (and just about everyone else) offers. Fiat’s solution to this problem is an oddly integrated TomTom navigation unit. I say oddly integrated both in terms of the look of the odd dashboard “docking connector” (checkout the video above for more information) as well as the unique way it integrates with the vehicle. Yep, that’s right it integrates with the car in a way your Garmin won’t. Once you pair the TomTom (with the custom Blue & Me software installed) to the 500 you can use the steering wheel buttons to command the TomTom. In addition to remote controls the TomTom will also display trip computer and media player information. While this approach is novel, it is also seriously kludgy.

Drivetrain

As with the rest of the 500, the engine isn’t an Italian transplant. Say what? The 1.4L four-clinder turbo engine is built in Michigan. Building a new assembly line in Michigan afforded Fiat the opportunity to make some improvements under the hood. While the basics remain the same with twin intercoolers and MultiAir VVT on tap, the IHI turbo has been swapped for a larger Garrett GT1446 that bumps performance in an important way. Power increases to 160HP from 158 and peaks at a lower 5,500RPM instead of 5,750. The big deal is the torque curve which drops from a sharpish peak at 3,000RPM to a 170lb-ft plateau that stretches from 2,500-4,000RPM (150lb-ft when not in “sport” mode). Thanks to the MultiAir system, the turbo’s 18psi (maximum) of boost can still be enjoyed with 87 octane gasoline (although Fiat is quick to remind us that 91 is recommended if you plan on tracking your Abarth or running in hot climates.) In an interesting nod to performance junkies (as well as those that want their turbo to last a lifetime) Fiat incorporates an “after run” electric water pump to cool the turbo after the car is shut off. Sadly Fiat missed the opportunity to add an extra cog to the 500′s transmission, instead using a heavy-duty version of the same 5-speed manual as the regular 500. Unlike the Euro Abarth models, there is no “automated” version available so working knowledge of a clutch pedal is required.

Drive

The Abarth is a flat-out blast to drive. This is not only thanks to the 60% increase in power and 70% increase in torque, but also to the low-profile tires, 40% stiffer springs, and lowered chassis.The Abarth may look like a tall vehicle, but with a curb weight of only 2,512lbs “chuckable” is the best way to describe the handling. As you would expect, Fiat tossed in a quicker 15.1:1 steering ratio and tweaked the power assist for a sportier feel. While the ratio is “no big deal” to me, the tweaked electric power steering is more important. It is still numb, but hints of feedback can now be felt through the tiller. Despite having a less fancy “elegant” suspension setup than the MINI, the little Italian is remarkably planted on poorly paved mountain roads inspiring an unexpected level of confidence.

While all these changes make the Abarth an absolute blast in the corners, they take a serious toll on ride quality for your daily commute. Unless you live in some hitherto-unknown pavement-nirvana, potholes and broken pavement are a way of life in the “land of the free.” After a week with the Abarth, I may still have had a smile on my face, but my back and kidneys had a different opinion. That being said, the Abarth is no harsher than the MINI JCW models and actually handles broken pavement with more finesse.

I’ve saved the final change made for our market for last: the exhaust note. This is perhaps the most controversial facet of the Abarth, since Fiat tuned the system to be louder than the Euro hatch. I found the drone on a long highway commute to be annoying, but passengers and our Facebook fans thought it was pure sex. Go figure.

Much like the MINI competition, straight-line performance isn’t what the Abarth is about. As you would expect with 0nly 160 horses under the hood, the Abarth scooted to 60 in just over 7 seconds. With the right driver I have little doubt a further two tenths could be cut from the time, but managing front wheel spin and traction would be essential to reducing your time. To deal with the increased weight of the North American Abarth, the SRT team cranked up the front camber to a -1.5 degrees up front. Thankfully for those interested in tire life beyond 5,000 miles Fiat has an alignment spec which allows for a decent amount of personal preference.

The Abarth is destined to make Fiat fans very happy. It’s also destined to give MINI shoppers that are willing to look at another brand a serious dilemma: is a comparable MINI worth an $8,000-$10,000 premium? Being the cheap bastard that I am, my answer is no. Consider that the MINI Cooper S scoots to 60 in 6.6 but doesn’t handle quite as well, and the MINI JCW models may get to 60 faster and handle as well as the Abarth, but they cost nearly 50% more. While I find the Abarth just a bit to extreme for my soft-suspension-loving backside, the 2012 Fiat 500 Abarth is one hot little hatch. Fiat: you have my number, call me when you stuff this engine into the 500c with some softer springs.

Not a fan of our Facebook page? Too bad, if you liked us on FaceBook you’d know what we have on the front burner. Get on, get social and tell us what you want to see. 

Fiat provided the vehicle, one tank of gas, and insurance for this review

Specifications as tested

0-30: 2.63 Seconds

0-60: 7.05 Seconds (6.8 sounds plausible with a professional driver)

1/4 Mile: 15.3 Seconds @ 91 MPH

Average Fuel Economy: 26.71  MPG over 541 miles

Sometime toward the end of my high school years, “fast fashion” shops like Zara and H&M set up shop in at the local malls, and became the place to shop. The clothing there wasn’t any better than the Gap or the Ralph Lauren remainders at Marshall’s, but if you paid for your own clothes, you would have been silly to shop anywhere else.

Shopping at those stores went beyond mere fashion considerations. If you spilled beer all over your shirt at a party, it wasn’t even worth sending it to the dry cleaners. Just throw it in the washing machine and hope it comes out. If that fails, pay $9.99 for another one. Eventually, people got wise to the fact that after three washes, the clothes tended to fall apart, but we willingly ignored the cheapness because we could look cool on a tight budget. Which is exactly why the Fiat 500 exists.

Just as H&M and Zara exploded in popularity in Canada, so has Fiat. American sales for the little Mexitalian minicar have been slow to ramp up in the United States. Not so here. In May of this year, Fiat outsold Buick, Volvo, Infiniti, Mini, Cadillac, Lincoln, Suzuki and Scion, and Canada is already confirmed for a third model line – likely the widely acclaimed Panda. And yet, up until now, I hadn’t driven one. All I had to go by were mixed reviews. One Mini-owning friend disparaged it as “a Neon in a cool wrapper”, while TTAC’s own Andrew Bell felt that there was a quality gap between our North American-spec model, and the examples he saw during his multi-year stint in Denmark.

The first thing I noticed upon climbing inside is that you sit really high up, or at least have the illusion of doing so. Imagine getting into a life-sized Kinder Surprise egg, and then plopping your rear down on a bar stool, and you have a good approximation of the Fiat’s driving position. The interior is dominated by a big panel of body-colored plastic, while the window switches and stereo knobs are all easy to reach for and can be operated without taking your eyes off the road. The steering wheel has controls for the Bluetooth system, but strangely no audio controls are visible – until you discover that they’re situated on the back of the wheel, like paddle-shifters for your music – well-intentioned, if not cleverly executed idea.

In the same way that the “top-stitching” on my Roberto Cavalli for H&M suit coat betrays a fused canvas, a closer look at the details shows that the 500 was built to a price, down to the last penny. For an outside opinion, I called in TTAC’s interior materials specialist, Berthold Schmaus, who is able to get down into the nooks and crannies that us humans can’t quite see.

Herr Schmaus’ first observation was that the headliner wasn’t just “mouse fur”, but it was his own fur. No, really. It may be difficult to see it in the photos, but Fiat and Herr Schamus must have some kind of common ancestor that supplies them both with their downy coverings. Herr Schmaus was also unimpressed with the naked metal seat rails, not so much for their utilitarian nature, but on account of the sharp metal edges that left him unable to scamper underneath to confirm reports of exposed electrical connectors and tasty wiring (yum!).

The 1.4L Multiair engine is, to put it mildly, gutless. Going up moderate grades in third gear necessitated a downshift to second. The “Sport Mode” is required for anyone who gives a whit about driving. The rumored 500T cannot come soon enough. On the plus side, the chassis isn’t bad, nor is the gearchange feel, and the diminutive footprint is perfect for bobbing and weaving in and out of Toronto’s traffic jams, which are longer than the lines on Yonge St for a Justin Beiber autograph session. You could almost lane-split in this car. Almost.

If you look around, it’s possible to get a base model Pop for $199 a month lease deal around these parts, or $13,999 in cash. A well-equipped Lounge, like my tester, is going for $18,600 at dealers – though every community newspaper in town is being supported by Toronto area Fiat dealers advertising steep discounts on their copious Fiat inventories. For the price, the 500 isn’t a terrible proposition. While a cheap shirt can be worn out and thrown away after a few months, a cheap car can be worn out, but leave you stuck with a note for 5 or more years.

If I were to go for a “fast fashion” car (i.e. something with less functionality but more cred than say, a perfectly good Kia Rio), I’d step up to the “Zara” level of quality and get a Mini Cooper. There weren’t any pressers available for me to drive, but my Zipcar membership gives me access to a fleet of some of the hardest-worn Mini Coopers in town.

Herr Schmauss and I went over the Mini quite carefully, and came away impressed. The interior is busier than the Fiat, to the point of being incoherent, but the quality of the materials is a noticeable cut above. Rather than being deathtrap-slow, the Cooper is Miata-slow; pokey, but enjoyable. It’s still small enough to be city-friendly, but not enough to be lost in the blind spots of SUVs. The driving experience is a whole other order of fun, with weighty, direct steering, a communicative chassis and the feeling that you’re driving a real car and not an espresso cup with a motor. Of course, Mini’s reliability record ranges from “not great” to “abysmal”, depending on who you ask ($8000 CVT replacements, anyone?)

Thousands of Canadians are seemingly happy with their Fiats, and for good reason; it does exactly what they want it to do; look chic and stylish, not sip too much gas and fit into small parking spaces. Long-term reliability and the driving experience don’t factor in too highly for them, even if those factors give me pause when it comes to recommending either of them outright.

Personally, I’ve had a change in perception, and have begun shopping with classic looks and quality in mind. Sometimes, it means going to a second-hand store for gently used but well made clothing. The good news is that it’s easy to find, the *ahem* designer labels that are really cool…

Gucci is no stranger to OEM trim packages for major manufacturers. The House of Gucci originally lent its unique Italian flavor to somewhat of an Intercontinental Bastard: a leaf sprung, Chevy Nova based Cadillac with a Spanish name.

That car is the original Seville, but the 1979 model. And while hideous, the sheer audacity of the Gucci Seville puts every Seville after 1985 to shame. That’s because the second-generation (1980-1985) Cadillac Seville made for the most Gucci worthy platform on the planet. It’s Hooper body throwback design was dying for something as ludicrous as Gucci’s graphics.

But the nicest Gucci for people looking for the basics of this designer brand in a non-offensive wrapper was the 1989 Lincoln Town Car Gucci edition.  The canvas top was solid blue, white paint, and sported a very tame (by Gucci standards) leather and cloth seat design.  This car was a looker, plus the Lincoln Town Car was a machine to be respected on presence, durability and value.  Not so with any Caddy from this era, which sported powertrains about as durable as knock-offs of said designer’s handbags. The sensible Gucci?  Well, perhaps not.

But now we have the FIAT 500 Gucci. Perhaps it’s because both designs are Italian in heritage, the meeting of these two brands is rather seamless. Too bad I can’t say perfect.

The front of the new 500 is cute and pretty enough, and Gucci’s chrome bumper guards don’t necessarily add or detract from the package. From here there’s no reason to question the 500’s staying power against the MINI Cooper.

Not so as we start moving across. Note the ratio of sheet metal in the wheel arch to the wheels. Note the sheer bulkiness of the side view mirrors. This car is becoming less cute. Which is far less cool than a MINI Cooper.

Don’t get me wrong, those Gucci wheels are pure decadence and deliciousness.  And making them body color is even cooler, fashion statement wise.  The B-pillar badging is totally worth bragging about. What lets the whole package down is the fact that the FIAT 500 is taller and clumsier looking than the MINI Cooper. See that body side crease right above the door handle? If the greenhouse started there and the roof line ended accordingly, this would be a very pretty, unquestionably cute vehicle.

Instead, FIAT gave us a dumpy little crossover, an alternative to a Suzuki SX4…but only in styling terms, of course.

Once again, imagine the FIAT 500 if the crease in the middle was where the greenhouse started. We’d have a serious threat to the MINI’s lock on cuteness and fashionista approved style.

That said, the details on the FIAT 500 Gucci drop top do not disappoint. The Gucci fabric for the roof is pretty slick, even though I seriously doubt most men would publicly admit this. But it is true: so go ahead and feel good about it.

Here’s a shot of that B-pillar. Yes, it does make you feel a little more special when you enter the 500’s cabin. And that’s precisely why designer editions of regular vehicles exist!

I don’t normally want to photograph the inside of a vehicle for this series, but the Gucci’s trimmings are worth the effort. The “Double G” leather, two-tone design, Gucci stripe inserts and matching seatbelts are like nothing seen on a modern car.  In this age of boring gray, tan, black or an interesting color merely used as an accent (I’m looking at every car with brown seats but still with black carpets and dashtops) the Gucci 500’s trimmings are a serious breath of fresh air. I like it.

I suspect the polarizing nature of the Gucci combined with the Italian cute factor of the 500 make it a perfect pairing. But if only that belt line went down, since it needs that to be a beautiful car.

Put another way, I wonder what it would take to get a Gucci trimmed MINI Cooper instead. That would be a winner.

Luckily the Abarth itself doesn’t require much in the way of context in order to be enjoyed. If you’d like some, feel free to check out our previous reviews of the naturally-aspirated 500. Finished? Fantastic. We’ve reviewed the little Fiat from an economy-car perspective in the past, but now it’s time to exchange the pocket protectors for my Impact! Carbon Air Draft. Buckle up: it’s racetrack time.

The first thing you need to understand about this 500 Abarth is that it isn’t really a 500 Abarth. In other words, it’s not the Euro-market performance 500 brought over and Americanized. Rather, it’s the North American 500 (charmingly referred to as the “NAFTA 500″ by the PR folks) with a thorough performance makeover. The differences in weight and structure between the American and European base cars meant that the suspension calibrations had to be done again from scratch. Camber was increased to a very aggressive -1.5 degrees up front. Good for the driver, bad for tire lifetime. Those tires, by the way, are sixteen-inch Pirelli P7s stock, with seventeen-inch P Zero Neros as an option. Those of us who remember the days when the P7 was the performance tire will smile every time we see them. Koni FSD shocks are specified to hold up the front end. That’s a bit of a Mopar trick.

The Fiat MultiAir engine is turbocharged, retuned, and treated to a full SRT-4 upgrade kit’s worth of forged pistons and special rods. Your humble author had real deja vu listening to the engine guys talk about the changes made; it’s like going back in time to 2003 and hearing what was done to the Neon. The changes yield 160 horsepower from the 1.4-liter mill, which is assembled in Dundee, MI. A few years, I opined that the Ford Mustang Shelby GT500 should be properly called the Ford Mustang SVT; this Fiat 500 could wear the SRT nameplate with equal pride. One part that does come from Fiat: the underwhelming five-speed manual, which features equal-length driveshafts in this application.

As with the old SRT-4 Neon, considerable effort has been expended to upgrade the “touch points” facing the driver. I grabbed a zero-options Abarth for the seventy-mile drive from the Hard Rock Hotel in Las Vegas to Spring Mountain Raceway in Pahrump, NV, knowing that all the basic goodies were included. First impressions: the shifter and steering wheel feel positively exotic, dontcha know. It’s an upscale, enjoyable experience to snip through the Strip traffic, but there are a few bugs in this Italian wedding soup.

Problem Uno: the electronic throttle. The Abarth has two fuel/boost programs: regular, and Sport. The non-Sport mode limits torque and reduces the aggressiveness of intake openings, ostensibly for maximum economy. (34MPG highway, by the way.) In practice, selecting this mode hobbles the car with unacceptable throttle lag. Rev-matching on downshifts becomes almost impossible; the engine simply hangs on to revs like an early three-liter E46 Bimmer, which is to say in the most stubborn, miserable, EPA-test-conscious manner possible. There’s no reason for this other than to create a tangible gap between normal and Sport modes. It’s trickery, it’s fakery, and it’s unworthy of the car.

Also unworthy of the car: the dumb-assed instrument panel, which has concentric ring gauges for revs and road speed. Ray LaHood would burst his aorta watching the dull red needles move on a dark blah background. It’s almost unreadable and it’s a worse distraction from the road than playing Angry Birds for cash while driving. In recognition of this, the SRT guys threw a shift light in the Abarth. On cloudy days, or at night, and if the driver is positioned just so, the shift light is somewhat visible. After a few miles I resigned myself to operating the FIAT based on the audible cues from the megaphone-muffled exhaust, which snorts, snuffles, and backfires its way along at a volume somewhat beyond the capacity of the base stereo to cover. That’s another Neon SRT-4 trick.

Part of the drive to Spring Mountain is a forty-mile freeway drone, and here the Abarth acquits itself surprisingly well for a car with less wheelbase than a CJ-7 Jeep. Crosswinds don’t terrify and the relatively high seating position turns out to be a bit of an asset. While this never feels like an overpowered car — fifteen-second quarter-mile, remember — there’s enough thrust on tap to make merging and overtaking absolutely worry-free. A sixth gear wouldn’t go amiss, though, and it would certainly do something for that highway fuel economy.

I’m told that the Mopar FIAT team developed the Abarth at Nelson Ledges Road Course, where it turned a 1:23.6 pretty consistently. That’s about what Car and Driver extracted from a 1996 Boxster 2.5 back in the day, and it’s a competitive laptime for SCCA ITB racing, so it’s respectable. Nelson Ledges isn’t exactly a racetrack for the timid.

Spring Mountain, on the other hand, is a racetrack for the timid, or at least for the talentless and well-funded, so it’s here that we are given a chance to run some P Zero-equipped Abarths around for a few laps. The front straight of the 3.1 mile course is chicaned, making the top possible speed about 95mph on the back straight. In other words, we’re almost autocrossing. As you’d expect for a 160-horsepower car, the 500 feels almost sleepily slow on-track, although the constant mish-mash of mild off-camber turns helps keep the interest level up.

My concern regarding the 500 as a trackday car had been that the handling would be tamed to keep its very short wheelbase under control. Luckily, that’s not completely the case; the Abarth is free to wag its tail under braking, particularly trail-braking, and through every one of the artificial elevation changes. A few times during my short lapping session, I am caught out by mistaking one slow blind turn for another one, and every time this happens there’s plenty of chatter and slide from the back while I correct my mistake. It’s charming, and it’s fun.

The Abarth’s relatively aggressive camber does manifest itself in a rather numb-feeling wheel during hard acceleration. Nor is the “torque transfer system” a substitute for an actual limited-slip differential — a mistake the Chrysler guys rectified during the 2003-to-2004 model year changes to the Neon SRT-4. Full-throttle corner exits are slightly annoying thanks to the “tunnel vision” caused by the stiffening of the steering and the separate-but-equal brake-driven adjustments to front-wheel traction.

The overall on-track impression is that the FIAT feels bigger than it is. That’s fine, and it’s reassuring, but compared to cars like the current Jetta GLI which seem to shrink on the move, it’s not ideal. Still, you could do a lot worse for your first trackday car.

Among the ad hoc segment known (as of right now) as “Little Retro Cars That Feel Sporty”, the New 500 Abarth is clearly ahead of the VW New New Beetle Turbo but probably a touch behind the New New MINI Cooper S. I wouldn’t expect it to keep ahead of a MINI on a road course or frantic backroad. Consumer Reports occasionally recommends the MINI but has slapped “Not Recommended” ratings on the non-turbo 500 and Beetle. There’s little objective reason to choose the 500 over the MINI.

Luckily for the FIAT/Chrysler folks, this isn’t a segment which operates on rational thought. If it did, none of the entrants in said segment would exist. The pricing is competitive — $22,000 plus destination — and the little Abarth has plenty of virtues, from the way it looks to the way it feels to drive. It seems to be worthy of both the FIAT and Abarth labels. What track rats around the country really want, however, is a small car that is worthy of the SRT label. Something at least as fast as the old SRT-4 Neon, only with enough refinement and interior quality to silence the naysayers. More power than the Caliber SRT-4 in a platform that deserves that power. Something like the, ahem, Dodge Dart. This Abarth is a nice sign of life from the SRT guys, but we aren’t looking for a sign of life; we’re looking for absolute domination. Over to you, gentlemen…

Throw “Sport” on a car, and I’m going to expect certain things from it. So I wasn’t kind to the first FIAT 500 I reviewed. But, as with people, I’m always willing to give a car a second take from a more amenable angle. To avoid bits I didn’t care for, I requested the base-level “Pop” trim with an automatic transmission. Chrysler counter-offered a top-level Lounge. In brown. With brown leather. Not quite what I asked for, but as a member of the Brown Car Appreciation Society (sans card, alas) I felt duty bound to accept.

Dip a 500 in Espresso Metallic and fit it with multi-spoke alloys (a $300 extra), and no one will think it an economy car. The look is as upscale as the Scion iQ’s is not. And this is before opening the door to find seats upholstered in chocolate brown leather, with matching trim on the doors and dash. The ivory steering wheel, upper seatbacks, and control panels provide a classy contrast while keeping the whole from seeming too serious or somber. Most definitely lounge-worthy.

Sadly, all parts of the 500 can’t deliver on this initial impression. Work the manual height adjuster in an attempt to lower the high-mounted seat, and the degree of flex suggests it’s not long for this world. Then again, the seat is so high in its lowest position that few people will ever use this adjuster. The buttons for the HVAC and audio feel very much like those of a sub-$20k car (even though this example wasn’t). Drive down any but the smoothest roads, and the doors constantly scratch against their seals. Perhaps press cars aren’t prepped as thoroughly as conventional wisdom suggests? A few dabs of a suitable lube might have gone a long way.

Thanks to the 500’s unsportily high seating position, the view forward is open. As is the view upward through the Lounge’s standard large fixed glass roof panel (much of the utility of the optional sunroof, without the rattles and leaks). The view rearward, not so much, as the B- and C-pillars are thick and close. But with so little car back there the Luxury Leather Package’s rear obstacle detection is nevertheless pointless. The driver-side spotter mirror is of much more use, enabling fear-free lane changes to the left, even if it does rob some scarce real estate within the mini-compact mirror pods. Whatever the trim level, the ergonomics are, well, Italian. The shifter remains too high and too far forward, but with the automatic this isn’t an issue. Despite the intimate interior, the logic-defying myriad small buttons for the BOSE audio system (thumping sub beneath the passenger seat) are just beyond reach. Would a few large knobs close at hand cramp the 500’s style? The “sport” button is close at hand, but all it does is bump the steering effort without reducing steering numbness and force the transmission to hold gears far too long for casual around-town use. We’re lounging this time around, so absolutely no need for this.

The Lounge’s seat is the same as the Sport’s, but with no clutch requiring frequent full leg extensions the overly prominent under-thigh bulge didn’t bother me. In fact, nothing really bothered me, though my diminutive rear seat occupants did complain about the car’s hard round headrests.

The 500’s 101-horsepower 1.4-liter engine was—surprise—no match for a Ford GT rapidly approaching in my rearview on I-75. Even with the rightmost pedal pressed hard to the floor there’s little thrust at highway speeds. Bill Ford’s supercharged supercar blew by without even realizing I was there. But up to 45 or so there’s easily adequate power. With the Lounge’s mandatory automatic I felt far less need to dispatch the engine anywhere near its redline (though the autobox is more than happy to take it there), and the MultiAir mill sounded much less thrashy as a result. The trip computer reported 33-35 MPG in the suburbs, dipping into the high 20s when my right foot lapsed out of lounge mode. Not bad, but at best a match for the most efficient cars one or two size classes up, despite FIAT’s highly touted throttle-less intake technology. Handling might not be sporty, but it is effortlessly pleasant. And the standard suspension delivers a livable ride, if still a bit choppy and bouncy.

Even if the FIAT 500 Lounge isn’t especially fun to drive, it is nevertheless thoroughly fun (when not hopelessly attempting to match pace with a supercar). The styling is engagingly cute (chics dig it) yet—in brown—also elegant. In Lounge form the car’s easygoing driving character fits. Pulling up to Trader Joe’s with my three chattering progeny, and tight on time, I announced, “All right you clowns, out of the clown car.” My youngest almost died from laughter in the parking lot. That was just the first of four stops on the weekly shopping expedition. Even with all seats occupied, my cargo anxiety heightened by what might well be the world’s smallest cargo cover, and some sale items bought by the dozen, everything fit with room to spare. In the $21,800 500 Lounge BCAS Edition, the entire experience seemed much less of a chore.

Fiat provided the vehicle, insurance and one tank of gas for this review.

Michael Karesh operates TrueDelta, an online source of automotive pricing and reliability data.

Due to the state of the economy and the price of gasoline in America, it’s no small wonder small car sales are on fire. For those that wish to hide the fact that they have downsized for sensible reasons like lower operating costs, there is a segment of the market just for you: small retro cars. While everyone has tried their hand at this game from Chrysler’s PT cruiser, Chevy’s HHR and the continual resurrection of the VW Beetle, nobody seems to have hit the nail as squarely on the head as BMW with their Mini franchise and their 40,000 in yearly sales. What’s the new Italian owner of an American car company and dealer network to do? Sell a “minier” Mini-fighter of course.

Back in ’68 Fiat had a cheeky little car with some crazy windscreen wipers. While the car wasn’t modern, as Samir Syed found out, it was, and still is a hoot in the Italian countryside. In 2007 Fiat resurrected the 500’s soul by putting a retro wrapper on the Fiat Panda and the result is a city car that, like the Mini Cooper, has grown from the original to more American proportions. Back in 2010 Tal Bronfer got his hands on a European 500C and now that the Fiat has landed on our shores Fiat lent us one for a week on the back country roads in the SF Bay Area.

From the outside, the 500C is certainly a cute little car. Perhaps it’s the size (it’s shorter than a Mini Cooper by seven inches), the round headlamps, or the striking red folding soft top, but I haven’t had this many people point and stare at a car; ever. It even garnered more looks than a Jaguar XKR convertible which was described as “sex in automotive form” by one of my passengers. On my daily commute an SUV full of people on their way to the daily grind practically stopped in the carpool lane (causing major traffic disruptions behind them) so they would all whip out their iPhones and take pictures of the topless Italian puttering along in the next lane. If you like being the center of attention, never has the price of admission been this low. Starting at $19,500 for the “Pop” trim and $23,500 if “Lounge” is more your style, this is significantly cheaper than the Mini Cooper convertible. For those without calculators, this is an approximate $4000 premium over the “regular” 500 or a 26% premium to remove your lid. What if the BMW 3 convertible cost 26% more than the coupe? Oh wait, it does. Why do people complain about the cost of the topless Fiat when the Mini convertible is $5450 more expensive and that’s not a “problem”? The answer of course is: brand. But the plucky Italian has a few tricks up its cheap sleeves to add value to this proposition, is that enough? Let’s find out.

Before we get into comparisons, we must stop equating size with price. There’s a new world out there and with new CAFE rules looming, things may be getting smaller, so deal with it. Of course at $19,500, the 500C is the cheapest four-seat convertible in the USA, so it should come as no surprise that interior plastics are not high-rent. They are appropriate for the price tag however, and vs the Cooper-sans-top, the plastics seem fairly competitive especially when you factor in that discount. I might even say the carpet in the Fiat has a slightly more premium look and feel, but this would be counterbalanced by the hard plastic door trim panels inside the 500’s cabin. Our tester wore red and black fabric with a charcoal dashboard, but buyers can opt for a lighter color scheme with an ivory steering wheel and dash that looks decidedly euro-chic.

All Fiat 500Cs sold in the USA have Fiat’s “Blue & Me” system which combines Bluetooth speakerphone integration with some minor voice control of your audio system. If you were expecting SYNC-like iPod or USB control, you will be disappointed with the strange Blue & Me interface. It’s too complicated to explain in print, if you’d like to know more, check out our TTAC Quick Clips video. Our tester came with the $1,250 optional Bose premium audio package which uses six Bose speakers and a very small subwoofer located under the passenger seat. Bose turns out to be the prefect company to handle the audio for the 500 as the subwoofer performed admirably top up or down. With such a small driver in the sub, I estimate 5-inches, if you are into bass heavy music at ear splitting volumes, install your own beatbox.

Out on the road the first thing you notice about the 500C is the over-boosted steering thanks to the electric assist, the second thing you notice is the grip. The 500 is no race car by any stretch, but it does feel as “go-karty” as any base Mini I have driven. As hard as this may be to believe, the Fiat also honestly feels more refined than any Mini on offer. Unlike the topless Brit, the 500C handles almost identically to the hard top 500. This is thanks to that wacky canvas top we haven’t discussed yet. Instead of chopping the entire top off a 500, Fiat decided to remove the rear window and 98% of the roof leaving the B and C pillars as well as the door frames intact. The resulting ginormous hole was plugged by a canvas soft-top that runs on tracks and collapses like a venetian blind on top of the “trunk”. This almost-topless design results in a stiffer chassis and only a 50lb increase in curb weight over the hard top. Speaking of weight, the way the 500 drives is dictated largely by its heft, or lack thereof; at 2416lbs it is lighter than the 2701lb Cooper convertible and this difference is noticeable out on the road.

When the going gets twisty the 500C gives up little to the Cooper, let alone the Cooper convertible, at a tested 9.5 seconds to 60, it may be slower than the 8.9 we clocked in the Cooper ‘vert, but it makes up for the reduced go with a greatly improved ride and grip. On rough twisty roads the topless Cooper feels less settled and far more flexible than the Fiat (a quality I don’t really seek in a convertible). While the “Sport” button in the Fiat helps firm up the steering, it does nothing for the feel which is the only real niggle I found on my trip down California’s windy Highway 35. Being able to raise or lower the top at speeds of up to 60MPH without skipping a beat on a windy country road made me forgive the steering feel. (At speeds up to 60MPH the top can be opened, and up to 50MPH the top and rear window drop to the trunk.)

Motivation of the 500C comes courtesy of a 1.4L 101HP “multiair” engine coupled to your choice of a 5-speed manual or an Aisin-sourced 6-speed auto. Since peak HP is achieved at only 400RPM shy of the 6,900RPM red line, wide-open-throttle is a frequent and pleasant companion. The need to rev the nuts off the 1.4L engine to extract all the horses and the 98 lb-ft of twist means the 5-speed manual is the dance partner of choice for maximum enjoyment. We can thank our lucky stars the jerky “Dualogic” robotized manual didn’t make it to our shores; instead the 6-speed auto (standard on Lounge models) is exactly what you expect out of a slushbox: early upshifts, smooth gear changes and a not quite as much soul as the manual offering.

Aside from being more “balls-out” fun than the automatic equipped 500, the 5-speed manual also delivery significantly better mileage with EPA numbers of 30/38 as compared to 27/32. In our 880 mile week-long review we averaged an admirable 33MPG average. Keeping in mind my daily commute is comprised of rural mountain highways and plenty of idle time while shooting video and still photos, I came away fairly impressed. A 40-mile highway trip on US-101 in moderate traffic yielded an average of 41MPG. As always, your mileage will vary.

Passers-by first wanted to know what this little rag top was; after they found out it was a Fiat they wanted to know whether it had broken yet. There is the problem; deserved or not, Fiat still suffers from a lingering reliability worry in the US. Almost on cue, the folding top gave us cause for concern on day three. Fortunately, the fix was easy and took only two minutes. Unfortunately, the local Fiat dealer was far less than helpful. Even if the 500C’s reliability is stellar, a poor dealer experience could put a serious dent in the small Italian’s debut on our shores. For those that come after me, here’s the issue. The roof’s one-touch feature would not work, the trunk would not open and the rear defroster wouldn’t turn on. A call to the local Fiat dealer resulted in a most worrying conversation: we were told we would need to bring the Fiat in to have it reset, I asked if I could do it, I was told no. Frustrated, I finally explained I was a journalist and “broken Fiat=bad review.” Information began to flow: all I had to do was to hold the open switch for 3 seconds after the roof had fully opened, then close the roof and keep holding for 3 seconds after it had closed. Viola; the Fiat was back to life but my faith in a quality dealership experience was dashed.

At the end of the week I was sad to see the plucky Italian head off into the sunset. At $21,649 as equipped with Sirius SAT radio, Blue & Me, the Bose audio, aluminum wheels and some red vinyl decals, the 500C is still about $10,000 less than the average new car sold in the USA not to mention $5,000 less than a comparably equipped Mini. While it may not have the value that a new Nissan Versa brings to the table, it is far more entertaining to live with. Until the 500 becomes US mainstream, if you want a high gawk factor for low bucks, the 500C is for now the best choice. Since the original 500 was eventually replaced by the Fiat 126, which looked like an Italian Trabant but was called “progress”, raise some vino to the hopes the Nuovo 500 has a long and healthy life.

Fiat provided the vehicle, insurance and one tank of gas for this review.

Not a fan of our Facebook page? Too bad. For our facebook peeps, here’s what you wanted to know: Chris M: Quite fun, and the mileage is still fairly good while having fun. Chris: The roof is automatic with one-touch. Richard L: No, but I did have an insatiable desire to drive up and down stairs. John L: Yep, the roof stays “folded.” Drew W: Yes, but the chic part is a major attraction. Daniel S: I hate convertibles, but I love this one. Go figure. Anthony G: I wanted more power. Darren W: Got it in one…

1/4 Mile: 17.3 Seconds @ 78MPH

I haven’t been to Italy, in 21 years. My cousins and I are having dinner together for the first time in 21 years. If I didn’t already know it, I’d have learned it now: males with Italian blood are obsessed with cars. My cousin Nicola even works for FIAT, in the seaside town of Termoli.

“Are there Fiats at Chrysler stores in Canada now?” he asks.

“Just the 500,” I inform.

“That’s not the real 500,” says Angelo, his younger brother. Two hours later, we’re in my Nonna’s garage. He pulls the tarp off a stunning, perfectly restored 1968 Fiat 595 SS Abarth. “Quest’è la vera Cinquecento!” he informs me.

The trip from Montreal to Casacalenda, off the Adriatic coast, took 12 hours. My BlackBerry says 11 AM, my body says 5 AM. I haven’t slept in almost 36 hours. I am covered in airport guck. Now, somewhere in the Italian countryside, I’m going to drive a car without power steering, and 4 drums for brakes.

My cousin and I are shoulder-to-shoulder, elbow-to-elbow in the Esse-Esse. The cockpit is dominated by two things: a speedometer and an ashtray. These form perhaps the most succinct depiction that I’ve ever seen of the stereotypical Italian male persona. “Per capire l’Italia, devi guidare la macchina del popolo,” Angelo says. (“To understand Italy, you must drive the people’s car.”)

The roof encroaches upon my head; I have to adopt a Quasimodo-like hunch to get my eyes below the top line of the windshield and actually see out of the car. Obviously, Italians were shorter in the 60s.

I fire it up. It sounds like a cross between a Harley and an AMG V8.

“Il motore fa quanti cavalli?” I ask.

“27.”

I stall it twice just getting it out of the garage. The throws on the stick are epically long, like a day without bread. The friction point feels like it occurs randomly along the pedal’s journey, at a different point each time. My cousin says this transmission is going to feel different than what I’m used to. No shit.

At first, I’m frustrated. The cobblestone streets give the Fiat a serious case of epileptic tribulations. The town is an interconnected network of tiny, maze-like streets across rolling hills. Every intersection is a new challenge – combining octogenarian pedestrians, elevation changes, and ground effects in varying degrees. Every time we stop, facing uphill, I’m nervous about stalling. I can’t even use the parking brake to cheat, because, well, it’s a 43-year-old car and the parking brake hasn’t worked since Berlusconi’s first term in office.

Eventually, I manage to assemble a decent circuit around the village’s confusing streets. As the laps pile on, and I’m getting used to the car, I feel its personality emerge. I start to understand why Angelo wanted me to drive it.

First, the steering. The wheel is small; rotation requires a more than casual effort. It’s incredibly direct, lively without being twitchy. The front wheels react instantaneously, and bite immediately. It’s actually becoming fun to guide the car through the narrow streets of the old world.

I never fully understood the transmission, but I learned to work with it. Angelo forbade power shifts. He even forbade quick shifts. Everything had to be smooth, gentle, the way a cappuccino goes down on a sunny afternoon. Every time I put the hammer down, the Cinquecento responded enthusiastically, propelling me through the streets and up hills without trouble. Coupled with the sound it made, it was perfect driving nirvana.

Eventually, we left town and hit the mountain roads. We drove the sinewy mountain roads between Larino and Casacalenda. By drive, I don’t mean it in the newer American sense: casually direct a power-assisted-steering, with one hand while the buttery chassis isolates the driver from road’s more interesting features. Here, we drove. We drove with two hands on the wheel, looking not 50 feet beyond us, but 500, to know what we’d have to do. The shifts and revs had to be matched or the car’s performance would suffer. Braking distances had to be respected – there were no discs to save us, let alone ABS. Every curve, every hairpin, was full of excitement and required utmost concentration to execute.

Angelo and I were having the time of our lives. Driving the Fiat here was a man’s game. If you timed everything correctly, the 500’s engine would reward you with a thunderous roar. Driving lines had to consider elevation changes and deterioration. The 12-km drive left me with a profound respect for those who journeyed across this mountainous country in a Cinquecento.

As we pulled in to the garage, I began to reflect on how my experience had improved my understanding of Italy, as Angelo had suggested it would. My mind kept drifting to the VW Beetle, another car that was also una macchina del popolo. The Bug’s status as an automotive icon is beyond dispute; the Cinquecento itself was reverse engineered from the Bug.

However, the Italians understood what was missing from the Beetle. It was all left-brained, a perfectly built-car for a defined purpose. This would never suit the country of Da Vinci, the mathematician who painted the Mona Lisa. The car for il popolo d’Italia had to be more – it had to satisfy the left-brain and inspire the right. Enter la Cinquecento.

Last month, as reported by our ever so excellent Matt Gasnier, there was a minor earthquake in Brazil. For the first time in a blue moon, a car other than the VW Gol stood at the top of the heap. That car was the new Fiat Uno. In this ongoing battle to the death (mind you, the rivalry Fiat X Volkswagen is akin to the heated relations between Ford and Chevy of yore) new weapons and tactics are unveiled at all times. Fiat just disclosed their new guns: the new Uno two-door and the Sporting line.

As I told all of you a while back, Fiat has problems to produce the quantities the Brazilian market demands. One thing they did was to close the factory for a little over two weeks back in December and January for some refurbishments. Using some of the money allotted for investments in Brazil and some very clever packaging (whoever has visited the factory can see how space is at a premium), they are now prepared to produce up to 800 000 cars in Betim. This is up from 700 000, but a year ago. They will now cut back on those 20 000 backlogged cars.

This move has also created space for Fiat to finally launch the 2-door version. This will allow them to charge a little less. In Brazil, traditionally, 2-door cars sells for R$1,500 to R$2,000 less than the 4-door version. That is a lot of dough for cash-strapped Brazilians (I wonder when all the wealth everybody is saying Brazil is creating/capturing will reach the hands of the masses…) and will bring the Uno into the reach of even larger number of consumers. Who, by the way, have not shown any wane in their desire to buy the Uno. The Uno is, a year later, still the it car for this segment which is about 50 percent of the Brazilian market. The Uno two-door undercuts by almost that exact traditional spread the four-door. Fiat asks (and gets) R$26.490 for the basic Vivace version. The four-door in the exact same guise will run my fellow countrymen back by R$28.140. A two door will be available in all different trims the Uno comes in. To wit, the Uno Vivace 1.0, the Uno Way 1.0, the Uno Attractive 1.4, the Uno Way 1.4 and the all new Uno Sporting 1.4.

For those Brazilians with a little extra money to spare, Fiat is offering the Sporting trim level. It is the cream of the crop really of the line. In Brazil, all makers charge the hell out of optional equipment. And just so you know, optional equipment in this segment of the market includes power steering, A/C, power windows (all of which more and more Brazilians, thankfully, can’t live without), not to mention such things as air-bags or ABS brakes (which are not offered by all makers for their cars in this segment). So, the further you climb up the trim lines, the more equipment you get for relatively less cash. By the time you get to the Sporting version, you’ll be paying R$32.170 for the two door, and almost 2000 more for the four-door (R$33.970). Of course, makers play this game all around the world. It is entirely possible to option out the basic 1.0 Vivace with so many things that it’ll cost more than the top-of-the-line Sporting version. Of course, this makes no sense. And that is because even if you check all the boxes for the Vivace you won’t get some of the special equipment available only for the higher trim levels.

So, what do you get for anteing up that much more money to get the top of the line? Well, basically you get a lowered suspension (2 cm less, this and all numbers ahead supplied by Brazilian car rag Quatro Rodas’ website), a thicker front sway bar, more rigid coil springs, which all help you through the twisties quicker. You also get a thicker torsion beam out in the back, which helps the car suffer less torsion. This also get you through those twisties faster. You also get better and bigger alloy rims and tires (185/60/15), which also, of course, help out there in the…you get the drill. What you don’t get is a re-worked engine. It’s the same 1.4 present in other versions. It is good for 88 ponies on ethanol and slightly less on Brazilian gas (with a 30 percent ethanol content). Fiat was good enough though to at least provide new hydraulic engine mounts.

What does all of this mean, you ask me. Well it means the car does drive better. The new engine mounts do filter some of the rashness out of the engine (which is different from the one found in the US-spec 500, which was reviewed by our own Michael Karesh ). I barely felt any difference in the lowered suspension. The extra grip I experienced I credited to the bigger tires and bars.

On a purely cosmetic level, the Uno Sporting offers more than the rest of the line. This is what makes it a better deal than the rest of the line (specially the attractive 1.4). Externally you get darkened head lamps, smoked back-lights, a front spoiler, a wing in the back, and (false) dual exhaust tips. Internally, among other less important things, you get A/C, power steering, leather on steering wheel, power windows. You also get an exclusive fabric for the seats (with the Sporting logo etched on to them), exclusive instrument cluster. As the car I drove also came with all extras, it had the good looking factory radio (with mp3 and USB ports), ABS and frontal air-bags.

My friend, who lent me his brand new car for this review, ordered the special Exclusive Kit, which added to his car a bi-colored leather steering wheel, rugs with Sporting logo, orange-colored fabric for seats and doors and a gray dashboard finishing. Though I like the seats and doors, I prefer the piano black, the carbon fiber look alike or the aluminum imitation central dashboard finishing available at other trim levels.

Oh yeah. The drive.

It’s a small car. Short wheelbase. This means it jumps around a little (or a lot depending on your views of cars) on bad roads. Now, I have a long experience driving and owning small cars. My conclusion is that it’s better than my present Fiat Palio (by a good margin), and better than most of the competition in Brazil. Probably only the Gol can really run with it. Maybe the old Ford Fiesta (if it was using the 1.6 engine). Brazilian cars are jacked up to confront our terrible road conditions, though this car is factory-lowered, I didn’t find that it made a difference. It rides like other 1.4 new Unos I’ve driven. Well, maybe acceleration is a little sluggish-er than on the other models, but that’s due to the bigger 15 inch rims. It’s barely perceptible, but it is slower off the line. But those tires and specially the wider contact with the asphalt make it better in the curves. Like all Fiats I’ve driven of late, the suspension is much more supple than a VW’s or Honda’s , but it manages to avoid boredom. Limits are high, but you have to trust the car to reach them. The cars warns you by screeching tires a little and fighting back a little, which most interpret as the car having reached its limit. However, I’ve found that at that point you can still push the car a little and it’ll settle down before really hitting the limit.

Feel of the pants measurements put it from 0-100 km in a little over or at 13 seconds. Top speed I got to was 162 km/h measured by the GPS (the velocimeter at that time was indicating 174 km/h). It felt like it could give a little more, but I ran out of road. And the car is brand-new, too, so both these numbers should improve with time. Now, getting to that speed is another matter. It gets to 100 even 110 km/h quickly, but then it gets faster less progressively. At 120 km/h (highway speed in Brazil) the engine is quite loud with the RPMs going at 3.600. Push it though and by the time the car gets to 140 km/h it has settled down. It feels happier though at between 100 to 120 km/h. At 140 km/h it still felt planted and confident, but the front end started feeling a little loose at 150 km/h. Again the car’s limit are pretty high for a 1.4 L engine and such a short wheelbase.

Noise levels are adequate and in fact better than other Fiat products. I guess the bean counters have not started the strippo process. Get it while it’s hot folks!

The design is excellent. To my eyes it’s a beautiful car, in a handsome way. Like I said elsewhere, what at first appears gimmicky, all the square lines, make sense in person (even more than in pictures). Those hard straight lines are softened by curves at the ends. And all the lines seem to be in the right place and to serve a purpose. The only excess I can see is that maybe the headlights don’t need the fuss on their outside edge, but it’s there to create visual interest and, again, break off the square lines. Inside the design follows a circular theme. An interesting contrast from the outside. Plastics are very meh (for Americans), but better than average as to what Brazilians usually find in the segment.

The driving position is great. I found myself very comfortable in those seats. You sit in them higher than in a VW Gol, but not as high as in a minivan. I find that this position gives you a good view of the road and is not as tiring as the hunkered down position so prevalent today (I’m looking at you 2^nd generation Scion xB or Chevy Camaro!). It is even more comfortable than in my Palio (a car I have mentioned several times on this site that seems to fit me like no other), which surprised me. The steering wheel though is just a little “crooked”. The left side of it seems to project a hair more forward than the right side. When I began to see these cars and sit in them, I never noticed it. However, other journalists started pointing this out. I admit it’s there (now that I went looking for it), but to criticize that seems like unwarranted snobbery in a segment in which the Gol’s pedal continue unaligned (and people don’t protest) with the seats and such things as Chevy’s Celta completely unnatural seating position get a free pass. BTW, the Celta’s seating is so weird it never ceases to amaze me that people claim to adapt to it. The instruments seem well placed. General ergonomics seem quite good.

The driving position helps visibility, which is also very good. Well, maybe behind they could have added some windows in the C pillar or made it thinner. But it’s not as bad as in my wife’s Logan or my boss’s Corolla. Anyway parking this car is easy. The factory back-up sensors present in the car are of course unnecessary in such a small car, but made the parking that much more fool-proof.

For families (and make no mistake about it, this car carries out family duties in Brazil) the trunk is about average for the segment. It can hold 280 or 290 L of baggage as the back seats can be reclined. That volume is about average for this segment in Brazil. It’s a tight fit, but it’ll hold the baggage of mom and pop plus two kids for the annual pilgrimage, I mean vacation!, at the beach (just don’t try to bring that beach ball inflated).

So, I liked the car. I respect the direction Fiat is going. Of course a bigger engine would do wonders for it (and Fiat just might oblige fitting its 1.6 16v E-tor.Q engine into a future version). But, as it stands, it’s economic, zippy in the city, frisky on the highway and highly adapted to Brazilian daily grind in traffic. Its success is deserved and I can understand why Brazilians are willing to wait in line to get their paws on one.

As to ‘soul’, a subject that proved quite controversial in the comments section of Michael Karesh’s Fiat 500 review, I’ll say this. I bonded with the car immediately. I found a good seat and enjoyed the ride. I enjoyed looking at it. But it’s heavier than Fiats of yesteryear. It had expensive and complicated machinery like A/C and air bags that add complexity and weight. It attends modern safety requirements. It was fun. But to find the soul I”d have to dig deeper. Keep it and drive it for more than one day. I’ll say this, if it doesn’t have soul, like the 500, it has plenty of character. Which maybe is the closest to soul you can get in a modern car. Maybe today’s cars are just to good to have soul. We all know perfection is cold.

Well then, that’s my review. You don’t have to take my word for it. If you don’t want to take mine, maybe you’ll take my friend’s. The car’s proud owner. He “came down” from a VW Polo to get the Uno. I asked him why he was downgrading. He said that at a year and half old the Polo is noisier than the Uno. And it shouldn’t be if you drink manufacturers’ kool-aid or the ‘unbiased’ opinion of the press. Supposedly the Polo is so superior. He said in fact it’s not. He said he sees little difference in the drive. Of course the Polo outperforms the Uno (as it has 20 more horses), but it doesn’t do it in an entertaining way. Besides, the Uno attracts all the right kind of attention (girls), but no undue attention (cops and kidnappers). You see, my friend is single, but cautious. And loaded. Trust me, he could buy any car he wanted to in the Brazilian market (German lux barges and Italian super prancing horses included). If the little Uno has quality enough to attract such a guy, it has qualities enough for me.

It’s been over a quarter-century, so perhaps my memory grows hazy. But I recall enjoying the small, light subcompacts of the mid-1980s tremendously. They didn’t have much power. Power wasn’t a requirement, just a willingness to rev and to be tossed sideways through curves. I’ve spent the years since trying to recapture that experience. And failing. Too much mass. Too much tire. Even too much refinement. But FIAT’s not famed for refinement. And, at 2,363 pounds, the reborn 500 (pronounced “cinquecento”) is a quarter-ton lighter than today’s compacts. So perhaps my search is over?

Styling is clearly a FIAT 500 strength. Back in the mid-1990s I spent some time inside GM’s Design Center as part of the research for my thesis. At the time every brand and model had a few words that were supposed to capture its essence. I pointed out to the designers that “cute and friendly,” sought by my wife and others with similar tastes, wasn’t being provided by ANY of their many brands or models. They replied, at least half-seriously, that “GM doesn’t do cute and friendly.” Well, the 500 does, and then some. Not only is the car terribly cute, but the design is very well executed. The proportions are perfect and there’s not a curve out of place.

The interior is similarly chock full of character, with an oversized speedometer and body-color trim spanning the dash. Materials, certainly a cut or two above those Americans expect from FIAT, are nearly a match for those in the MINI Cooper.

The new FIAT 500 rides on a 90.6-inch wheelbase and is only 139.6 inches long, in both cases about a half-short less lengthy than the MINI. A member of the European A-segment, this is the smallest four-seater the American market has seen in some time. Yet the 500 has more space than the MINI within its back seat—at 5-9, I can fit, if with little room to spare. More cargo volume as well—30 cubes (vs. 24) with the rear seat folded. Magic? No—the 500 is 59.8 inches tall, four more than the MINI and approaching crossover territory. This additional height translates to a much higher driving position than you’ll find in a MINI—or in those cars that thrilled me back in the 1980s. With the seats so high legs don’t need to extend as far forward. The front seat cushions are size XXS and their shape applies far too much pressure mid-thigh even for people with short legs (30-inch inseam here).

While a turbocharged 170-horsepower “Abarth” variant is in the pipeline, at launch only one engine is available, a 1.4-liter four-cylinder good for 101 horsepower at 6,500 rpm and 98 foot-pounds of torque at 4,000. But wait, there’s (allegedly) more: this is the first engine offered in North America with FIAT’s much-hyped “MultiAir” valve control system. By more flexibly controlling the intake valves, this system promises up to 10 percent more peak power, up to 15 percent more low-end torque, up to 25 percent better fuel economy, and up to 60 percent fewer emissions. Given these gains, FIAT claims to have achieved a game-changing breakthrough. (With which they “paid” for a big chunk of Chrysler.)

Then the rubber meets the road. MultiAir provides the most benefit under low engine loads. (I’d say “with small throttle openings,” but with MultiAir there’s no throttle.) Well, even though the 500 weighs very little by today’s standards, the 1.4 struggles to motivate it. Below 4,000 rpm there’s no power. Above 4,000 rpm there’s not much more. So WOT, or close to it, is the typical operating mode, and whatever benefits MultiAir provides are forfeited. As long as I can shift for myself I don’t need much power, but I do need a willingness to rev and, ideally, a zing in the process. Perhaps because of all the extra bits in the valvetrain, the 1.4 doesn’t care to rev and growls unhappily when forced to.

Shifts aren’t satisfying, either. A high-mounted shifter might work in a cargo van, but in a hatchback with sporting pretensions it’s no joy. One didn’t work in the Pontiac Vibe and Toyota Matrix, and it doesn’t work here. The lever’s somewhat clunky operation wouldn’t be welcome even in a cargo van.

With a low curb weight and a small MultiAir engine, the 500’s fuel economy ought to be stellar. But it’s not. The EPA ratings of 30 city and 38 highway are roughly matched, even exceeded, by some much larger, much more powerful compacts—none of which have MultiAir. And that’s with the five-speed manual. With the six-speed manually-shiftable Aisin automatic, the 500 only manages 27/34. To be fair, the similarly torque-free 1.5-liter four in the similarly light Mazda2 does even worse (29/35 with the manual and 27/33 with a four-cog automatic). But the differences between the two don’t begin to justify the hype surrounding MultiAir. Maybe the benefits will be more evident with a larger engine that doesn’t have to work so hard?

My expectations (or at least hopes) were highest with the 500’s handling. But the high seating position takes a predictable toll. Steering reactions aren’t especially quick. A Mazda2 feels friskier, a MINI more dialed-in and direct. Tossable the 500 is not. Instead, it tries too hard to behave like a larger car. Like the Ford Fiesta, it’s tuned for people who want the appearance of a small, cute car but not the feel of one.

Sadly, and unlike the Ford, what was achieved with the handling was not achieved with the ride. Even the smallest bumps dramatically upset the diminutive FIAT’s composure. The lightly loaded rear end never passes up an opportunity for a game of hopscotch. Granted, I drove the Sport variant, but if the ride is so unsettled that carving a clean line through a less than glass-smooth curve becomes a challenge, then there’s really no point in making the suspension so firm. Of the many cars in my memory bank, including the thoroughly unrefined Mazda Protege5 I own, this one rides the worst. The non-Sport would have to be an order of magnitude less jumpy to not constantly irritate those within it. Hopefully they’ll be able to better sort the suspension for the Abarth, for a 170-horsepower turbocharged four would be a terrible waste in this chassis as-is.

To give credit where credit is due, noise levels within the 500 are bearable, if those of a small car. Despite its low weight, the 500 feels considerably more solid than a Mazda2, if not quite so much as a German-engineered MINI. To put it bluntly, the car doesn’t seem cheap.

Nor is it, with the Sport checking in at $18,000. Still, this is within a few hundred dollars of a similar Ford Fiesta (a larger but less stylish car) and over $6,000 below a comparably equipped Cooper. Adjust for the Brit’s additional features using TrueDelta’s car price comparison tool, and the FIAT’s price advantage remains about $4,500.

The big question mark, given FIAT’s history, is of course reliability. With the first cars just now arriving at dealers, it’s too soon to say one way or the other. But TrueDelta’s Car Reliability Survey was designed to provide reliability stats on new models sooner, so perhaps by the end of the year (depending on how soon enough owners participate). You’ll see those results here at TTAC as soon as we have them.

As should be clear by now, the FIAT 500 isn’t the car I’ve been seeking for the past quarter-century. It does nothing especially well and a few things badly. But it’s so endearingly cute that even a MINI appears staid in comparison. Initial sales should be strong. But what about after everyone smitten by the styling buys one? And will the love survive a few months of living with the ride? Roger Penske went down this road not long ago. Ask him how it turned out.

Car provided by Golling FIAT

Michael Karesh operates TrueDelta, an online source of automotive reliability and pricing data

Having some time on my hands, I ventured out again into cardealershipland. Wanted to get my hands on the mini mites that inhabit many an urban Brazilian cowboy’s dream. You know, the call of the sertão (that’s what you think we call the pampas.) In the left corner, all the way from Italy, but made in Brazil, the long-time favorite and market leader Fiat Strada Adventure Locker. In the right corner, the Teutonic tiny titan, the all new VW Saveiro Cross. As the long names suggest, these are the top of the line offerings from each maker. Both offer cheaper, less equipped versions for the daily grind and/or work routine. So hold your cavalos, vaqueiro, I mean, hold your horses, cowboy! Which one comes out on top?

Right off the bat, I must tell you that the two automakers took different approaches when designing their car-based pickups. Fiat kept it more “real” as its contender still feels like a pickup. VeeDub went the other way and, recognizing the reality of the market, strove to give its mini truck all the driving characteristics of a regular car. Thusly, the Fiat Strada is more tail-happy and busy-riding, while the VW Saveiro Cross is surprisingly composed and car-like. But, this comes at the expense of lesser (light) off-road capacity and lower (slightly) capacity to carry weight (685kg for the Italian and 661kg the German – as if anyone would care).

The Fiat Strada offers extended and double cab versions in this trim. The Saveiro Cross comes only in extended cab form. The Fiat is a hair roomier in extended form (300Lx280L, according to Brazilian website vrum.com.br), not to mention the double cab, though you’d be hard pressed to put 4 full-bodied Americans in the double cab (only 2 doors). Of course, deriving as they do from the Fiat Palio and VW Gol, interior dimensions are similar to their originators. So it’s no surprise that the Italians, masters of finding room within scarce real estate, make their car seemingly roomier and more accommodating than the Germany. Shades of Volk ohne Raum.

According to the widely-read Brazilian website bestcars.com.br, the Strada is equipped with a GM-sourced and very antique engine. It’s got 1.8L and packs 112 or 114 horses (if topped off with Brazilian gasoline or ethanol) and is very torquey, albeit rather harsh and noisy at higher RPMs (in character with its American heart and totally out of character to its Italian adoptive parents). The Saveiro comes with a 1.6L mill that’s good for 101hp or 104hp (gasoline the former, ethanol the latter). It’s rather noisy at higher speeds due to its short gearing. The Strada is ultimately faster, reaching a top speed of 111 mph on ethanol, while the Saveiro goes to 109 mph (also on ethanol). The Strada accelerates better, too, getting from naught to 100 km/h in 11.2 sec, while the Saveiro does the same a second slower (both using ethanol to get their best marks).

But numbers don’t tell the whole story. Sitting in the captain’s chair, the Strada makes the better impression on me. The seats, steering wheel and pedals are perfectly aligned. In the Saveiro, the pedals are skewed to the right, so much so that I stalled the car when in a panic stop my left foot shot forward to depress the clutch and found nothing but air. Both are manuals with 5 speeds. The Saveiro has shorter throws and is more precise, but buy is it ever noisy! There is a definite thump every time you move the lever. I prefer the slight vagueness and longer throws of the Strada. I can do withou the audible feedback (thump! thump!) of every gear change.

The Fiat Strada comes with dedicated off-road tires. They squeal and protest whenever provoked. Above legal speeds they don’t really do a good job of keeping the tail in. The Saveiro is much more car like and comes with useless 50/50 on/off road tires, though you can opt for dedicated off-road rubber. It certainly corners more neutrally, though the factory should make up its mind and offer legitimate on-road only tires. For most people buying the car, that’d be ideal. It would improve the car’s handling limits.

Honestly though, test drives in Brazil come with a salesperson by your side. And they don’t like to take more than 15 minutes, either. However, I got them for at least 30 minutes and scared my passenger a few times, even though it was strictly city driving. Braking felt consistent in both pickups as the setup is the same (drums in front, disks in back – ABS optional for both). Being 125kg lighter, the Saveiro felt more spritely, though the numbers show the Strada is always faster (again, according to bestcars.com.br).

Inside, nothing to gloat over. The Saveiro Cross is better as it inherited the new VW Fox’s instruments, but not much else. There’s nothing really exclusive to this version (same blue/red light et al). The Strada offers some gloss-over regular run-of-the-mill Palio instrumenration with different lighting (yellow/red as opposed to the rest of the family’s orange/red) and some totally useless gauges, like an inclinometer, atop the dashboard.  The plastics and finishing are generally better in the Fox, I mean, Saveiro.

As for pricing, it’s one of the few times that you regret living in Brazil. The Strada is listed at Brazilian reais 47.240 ($26,240) and the Saveiro Cross goes for reais 41.840 or $23.240. Nevertheless, the Strada outsells the Saveiro 3 to 1.  No wonder, the Strada comes with power everything, A/C and their “locker” system, which, when engaged, electronically blocks the differential at low speeds to help you out of difficult situations. The base price of the Saveiro is just for show. When equipped similarly to the Strada, it is but a few cents cheaper. And doesn’t even offer something remotely like the “locker” system. Also, now I know what the inclinometer is for. The sales guy quotes the price, you look at the gauge, and it tells you. “Not steep at all!”

Pricing as a way to get customers in the door I understand. Gimmicks like VW is doing with their pricing are self-defeating, as the stats confirm.

Who’s our winner? Depends on our priorities. Want a car-pickup with car suspension and drivability? Take the Saveiro. Want a car-pickup more like a pick-up? With real pickup suspension? Take the Strada. Since I prefer the Strada’s no tricks pricing, pickup demeanor in a pickup, I take the Strada. The sertão beckon.

John Steel, 42. Resident Nurburgring hotlapper, amateur race driver and menace of all slow moving objects. On weekends, he likes thrashing his Porsche 997 Mark II GT3-RS around the local track. Karen Levy, 25. Professional mall stormer, party queen and dedicated student. Enjoys a fine café-latte by the Mediterranean Sea and the gentle spring breeze while driving her Fiat 500C.

Two people, two separate sides of the automotive equilibrium. This time, driving around the peaceful and slow moving streets of southern Tel Aviv, amongst buzzing restaurants and overcrowded coffee shops, I get to explore the latter. Meet the Fiat 500C: the open-air sibling of the 500 retro car, and an inevitable win of form over function.

As you’ve probably guessed by now, the ‘C’ in this Italian mini car’s name stands for convertible – only the 500C doesn’t really convert into anything. Taking the recipe of the original 500, Fiat’s ever-quirky engineers left the roof structure entirely solid, with a sliding fabric roof replacing the conventional steel – essentially a very large sunroof. This unconventional setup allows for a greater structural integrity than a traditional convertible, improves safety (all 7 airbags are left intact) and benefits practicality (since the roof doesn’t have to be stored in the trunk). But the real reason this setup was chosen is also the original sibling’s raison d’etre: affordability. Does it all work out in the real world? Let’s see.

Parked by the curb, the 500C attracts a lot of attention – most of it, predictably, from ambassadors of the female gender. Interestingly (while not surprisingly), it is also the Gay Car of the Year. Gender preferences aside, the 500C is a pretty car – ‘cute’ attractive, not ‘wow’ attractive. The retro-esque grille with the horizontal chrome emblem and round headlights give the car a face of sorts – and it’s certainly smiling. Its bubbly proportions and the tan roof neatly folded against the trunk transform you to a time when The Beatles topped the charts and Cuba was all about nuclear warheads.

Looking for the rear window? It’s not there, at least not when the roof is folded. Without a trunk to fold into, the fabric cover neatly arranges itself to perfectly block the driver’s rear view. With the roof, gone is the small window – so if you’re into drop top driving, you’ll have to rely on the mercy of the parking sensors and the flexibility of your partner’s neck. Really, who needs a rear view where there’s so much sky to look at?

The disappearing rear window isn’t the only awkwardness in the 500C’s chic cabin. Fortunately, that’s mostly good awkwardness: color coded plastic panels, a radial speedometer and rev counter, and in the well equipped tester – sporty red leather seats with contrasting white headrests. All pleasing to the eye, but not to the touch – Fiat’s newly-found interior quality hasn’t found its way here.

The wiggly handbrake, air conditioning controls and door handles and the flimsy rear seat access mechanism are just a few of the components that don’t have anything in common with solidity or quality, and most of the plastics are hollow and low rent. The same goes for the roof: my tester barely clocked 5,000 (admittedly difficult) miles and the roof was already stained. The driving position is also seriously lacking, leaving you too far from the steering wheel and too close to the pedals. Taller fans of the elevated driving position will find their head comically sticking out the roof.

The 500C’s roof has three modes: closed, half-open and Who Let the Dogs Out. The last two are fine for city driving, but in speeds reaching recommended freeway velocities, you risk blowing off your eardrums. Fortunately, if you’re looking for a peaceful and quiet drive, sound isolation while the roof is closed is quite good – not significantly worse than the standard 500.

Should the party in question consist of more than two adults, you better call shotgun fast – the rear seats are just OK for a shorter teen, and range from troubling to impossible, depending on your definition of a full size adult. Luckily, the unique roof doesn’t hamper headroom – which wasn’t too impressive to begin with – that’s sufficient for sub-six-footers. Getting back there, however, is a chore: rear seat access is clumsy – the handle doesn’t push the seat forwards, so entering the rear seat is a multiple stage process. The trunk is more reminiscent of a glovebox (6.3 cubic feet), and while the fancy roof only takes up 3 liters of storage space, sizeable shopping bags are probably the most you’ll fit in there.

The good thing about convertible cars: everyone seems to think you’re enjoying yourself, when in fact, you’re not. Powered by the 1.4 liter gasoline unit, the 500C spits out a full 100 horses – which sounds good for a small car, until you recall it isn’t really small, what with its dazzling array of airbags and safety features, nearing the car’s curb weight to a tick below a ton. And so, along with Fiat’s soon-to-be-discontinued sequential Dualogic gearbox, it completes the sprint to sixty at almost 11 seconds.

11 seconds don’t sound like much on paper, and they definitely don’t look like much on the road. The insensitive throttle needs a serious kick to garner some pace. Try flooring it when the light turns green and there isn’t even one tiny bit of a tire squeal to boost your alter ego. And then comes the shift to second.

Yes, this gearbox is terrible – there really isn’t a softer way to describe it. Sure, you can adapt to it and you can meticulously learn to lift your foot off the throttle when it decides to shift. You can also bring it flowers and chocolates on its birthday – the thing is, you’re not supposed to have a delicate relationship with your gearbox, and being advertised as an automatic, this powertrain creates false hopes of a smooth self shifter. Be aggressive with the throttle, and your head gets thrown against the hard plastic heardrest – almost as if the car scolds you for misbehaving. Smash the throttle in high gear, and absolutely nothing will happen – it simply won’t downshift.

According to the auto journalist’s handbook, when all hope is lost, try the Sport button. Pressing the red button makes the 500C hold on to a gear for dear life, ignoring subtle notes (like a gentle pet of the throttle) and bolder ones (like cursing in three languages). The steering marginally stiffens up and the throttle becomes more sensitive, but these changes are too subtle to have any dynamic implications.

Sport, then, is probably not a part of this 500C’s lexicon. Performance aside, the overassisted Dualdrive steering stiffens suddenly and artificially during acceleration. It’s vague and lacks any concept of feel, which doesn’t inspire confidence during spirited driving. If you manage to get past the steering, you’ll find that the little convertible can offer decent amounts of fun thanks to its short wheelbase, allowing it to cut corners and induce some tail play – all monitored by the electronic nanny, of course. But it isn’t a sporty car – not even a warm hatch, and surely not the first choice for a Sunday drive.

If you’re a John Steel, you would probably hate the Fiat 500 Convertible. The back is cramped, the plastics are cheap, the ride is bumpy, the driving position is horrible, the engine is weak, the gearbox is annoying and the steering is awful – I could bash this car for hours. But then again, judging the 500C acutely would be wrong. It drips with character, sits theoretical four people and some luggage, attracts loads of looks and has a shiny tan roof, which is what Miss Levy looks for in her brand new city car. So if these are the qualities at the top of your shortlist and you can’t afford the more expensive (but much better, albeit less practical) Mini Cooper Convertible, the 500C may be the car for you. I, for one, know it’s not for me.

Fiat provided the car, insurance and one tank of gas for this review

This review brought to you by icar.co.il