1990 FIAT TIPO 1.9DS
Used car addict Keith looks back at his best – and worst – classic buys. This week, a Fiat that proved you should always look before you buy… and not in a good way
WHY DID YOU WANT ONE?
I’d admired the Fiat Tipo from the moment I first clapped eyes on it in CAR magazine back in 1988. It was a properly utilitarian hatchback that boasted loads of interior space, an individual look that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else and should have been able to deliver a touch of Italian brio. It wasn’t until 2002 that I actually ended up buying one, just at the point when it had reached the bottom of its depreciation curve, with even the very best examples being picked up for the price of a bag of chips. I exaggerate, of course, but I thought it would be a laugh to put in a low-ball bid and see what happened when I spotted one up for sale near me in an online auction with a few minutes left to run. The wording was scant, the pictures were taken on a potato camera and the spec unpromising – a white, base-level, 1.9-litre normally-aspirated diesel. I can only assume I was going through a masochistic stage. Well, the auction ended, and it was mine. Lucky me.
WAS IT A JOY – OR A NIGHTMARE – TO LIVE WITH?
I knew it was going to be a challenge, but even I wasn’t expecting it to be as bad as it emerged. I’m often asked what the worst car I’ve ever owned is – and right now, this feels like it’s up there. The white paint was as flat as the Fenlands and the interior looked like a prop straight from CSI: Peterborough. Money changed hands (why did I not just back out?), I commenced to fire it up, and soon realised that at least two of its glow plugs were out of action because it needed a considerable amount of churning to get going. It idled healthily enough (if a little on the loud side) once fired up, albeit accompanied by a diesel smell that took me right back to Preston railway station, circa. 1975. Nice. Buyer’s remorse hit before I’d even left the seller’s home and just got worse the more I drove it – but I decided to persevere with it despite all that. So, I changed the oil and filter, sorted the air filter and gave its interior a spruce-up by fitting the seats from a Lancia Dedra that I found at a local scrapyard (yes, really). Did that make it a better car? Well, yes but…
WHAT’S YOUR ABIDING MEMORY OF IT?
My fettling wasn’t nearly enough. The cold starting issue was beyond my fixing capabilities because the glow plugs had fused to the engine and were impossible to remove. That was a laugh in the morning, but not the worst aspect of the car. No, that was the lack of power. If it had been developing all 65 horses, I might have been able to cope, but clearly it had lost compression and was pushing out half of that at best. This was not good news given that I’d bought the car as a potential fuel-saver on my 48mile commute – a run that included hills. I think the final straw came when I was giving it everything up one gentle incline to keep up with the traffic, but simply couldn’t – I was, in fact, holding up one very irate HGV driver behind me. Clearly it had to go so I put it back up for sale – and do you know what? I made £40 profit on it. Strange world…
WHAT ARE YOUR TOP TIPS FOR BUYING ONE?
Fiat’s reputation for corrosion was well deserved after its poor performance in the 1970s. Cars like the 127 and 128 rusted ferociously and would often need tending to well before their first MoT. The Tipo was different. It was made from galvanised steel and therefore should have killed the problem once and for all. And it did – sort of. Sadly items like the engine subframe and inner sills were made from standard steel and although they lasted longer than their forebears, most Tipos ended up being killed by rust – just from the underside. So, when looking, check thoroughly and investigate the MoT history for signs of previous repairs. Other than that, they’re mechanically solid and prices are low.