By Owen Ready
05 December 2007
One hundred horsepower. It’s not setting your pants on fire is it? In a world where 500bhp estates appear seemingly with each passing day, a ton of horses barely seems sufficient to power the vacuum cleaner. Strange then that Fiat sees fit to affix a ‘100HP’ badge to the back of the ‘pocket rocket’ version of its Panda.
And the name Panda. It seems to conjure up images of rusting, boxy little cars, despite the fact that the original Panda remains possibly the greatest piece of industrial design ever to have four wheels bolted on. Every detail was beautifully considered in terms of fitness for purpose as well as ease of manufacture. It wasn’t exactly sporty though was it? It was a car so focused on utilitarianism that its windows were made of flat glass and it had seats fashioned from cloth and tubes.
The latest version is a curious mix of city car and MPV – it’s a rather difficult car to categorise. While in pictures the upright stance makes it appear quite substantial, it’s only when you stand next to one that you realise just how small it is – it really is a chunky little nugget of a car. The standard car may look like an unlikely recipient of the go-faster treatment but the 100HP looks fantastic. The gaping grille, lowered stance and flared arches endow it with the sort of subtle muscularity of a junior RS Audi. It looks so good that it’s hard to understand why there aren’t more of them on the road.
Open the door and there are, shock horror, no deck chairs, but a pair of properly supportive sports seats in an amazingly spacious cabin. The Italians really know how to make small cars and the Panda is no exception. The dash may be made of hard plastics (who decided that squishy means higher quality anyway?) but it’s very well screwed together and there’s not a rattle or squeak from any of it. On top of all this it’s really generously equipped; Bluetooth connectivity, climate control, a CD/MP3 player and trip computer are all thrown in.
Shut the door behind you, twist the key and slip the stubby, dash-mounted gearstick into the first of six gears and the first thing you’ll notice is that the driving position is tantamount to yoga; you find yourself using muscles you never realised you had in order to operate the pedals. I was left pondering why this is for as long as the cramp took to wear off in my right foot after a four-hour motorway stint. I know it’s a not really intended to be used on the motorway (although it’s a remarkably refined cruiser) but surely keen drivers should be able to flourish your gearchanges with some heal-and-toeing in something that’s begging to be flung down a country lane? Get on that country road though and such niggles will disappear.
NEXT PAGE>>>
User Comments
Read All Comments (4)
Got something to say?
POST COMMENT