Wonderfully mad, feral hot hatch
What do you get when you add 95 to 500? In Abarth’s version of the Fiat 500 it equals loads of blatant fun, writes Damien O’Carroll.
We never got the current refreshed version of Fiat’s adorable 500 here in New Zealand, because not enough of you bought the last one, so it’s your fault.
But we do now, by way of the mad performance-oriented backdoor that is Abarth. The first representative of the current 500 family is here to take on some deeply impressive baby hot hatches like the VW Polo GTI and Ford Fiesta ST – it is the superbly mental 595 Competizione.
The first thing you need to know about the 595 is that while the surface stuff is new, the underlying oily bits are rather old indeed. But where that is usually a negative in a new car, it is a rather good thing in the 595.
Why? Well, cast your mind back in the mists of time to 2012, a happier time when the president of the United States didn’t rant on Twitter and sneezing in public wouldn’t see you socially ostracised.
Back then, Fiat released a brilliant little piece of feral motorised lunacy into New Zealand called the Abarth 695 Tributo Ferrari.
The 695 packed a rorty and aggressive 132kW/250Nm turbo engine hookup to a 5-speed single-clutch automated manual transmission that utterly disregarded silly things like refinement and shift quality, and had a ride best described using adjectives like ‘‘merciless’’, ‘‘pitiless’’ and ‘‘brutal’’.
It was wonderfully mad, thoroughly impractical, massive amounts of fun and, at $80,000, excitingly expensive.
Why is that relevant? Because the 595 Competizione is basically a 695 Tributo Ferrari sans its horsey badges, bulky race seats and carbon-fibre interior highlights. And it is half the price.
That’s right – it has the same 132kW/250Nm turbo engine, the same clunky 5-speed SMT and the same cruelly uncaring ride as an 8-year-old car.
While that should normally be appalling, the fact that it is half the price, while being every bit as much of a massively fun spittle-flecked lunatic makes up for all of that. And then some.
And just look at it. How can you not utterly love a cute little car that has been turned into something that has a kind of visual violence to it that suggests if it were a dog you would say to people, ‘‘Of course you can pat it. Just don’t expect to keep all of your fingers . . .’’
The interior is equally mad and uncompromising, with sports seats and a lovely little leather and suede steering wheel, not to mention the soridiculous-it’s-awesome boost gauge that perches on the top of the dash and gives you a frenetic visual representation of the level of insanity at any given moment.
It is, of course, fantastically uncomfortable if you are too tall and is ergonomically insane – you can’t see where to put the key in the ignition (yeah, it has one of those too), the seat height adjustment lever is located conveniently next to the handbrake (so, yes, you often raise the seat height when attempting to pull on the handbrake) and the driving position is ridiculously upright and high, meaning if you are more than 1.85 metres tall like me, you will never quite feel you are in the right position.
But, literally, none of that matters when you fire it up and the tiny car erupts into life with an angry blare from the exhausts before settling into a grumpy, menacing idle.
Nail it off the line and it is eye-wideningly aggressive as the engine snarls and bellows, while the front wheels struggle desperately for grip. Grab another gear and the exhaust crackles and bangs, while the whole angry process of acceleration continues unabated.
The relentless assault on the senses is only made wilder by the rock hard ride’s effect on things as it skips and shuffles all over the road.
All of this drama comes straight back to you through the steering wheel and seat, giving you the distinct impression that you are only barely in control of a wild animal.
But you quickly become aware that it is all just for show and the 595 Competizione is actually a wonderfully controllable thing. None of the drama affects your ability to drive the car quickly and you always feel comfortably on the right side of control.
The simple fact is the 595’s prime objective in life is to be massive fun to thrash on a winding road. Which is good, because around town it is awful.
The hard ride wears you down quickly and the singleclutch automated manual transmission is painfully slow and clunky in automatic mode. Fortunately treating it like a manual and lifting off the throttle makes it vaguely civilised, and this quickly becomes a natural thing to do.
The 595 is a staggering bargain compared to the car from which it originated, but its $39,990 starting price (for the manual version, our test car is the $42,490 ‘‘auto’’) is actually a bit more than its most obvious competition – namely the auto only $39,740 Volkswagen Polo GTI and the manual-only $35,490 Ford Fiesta ST.
Both the other hot littlies are far more civilised cars around town and super easy to live with as a daily driver, as well as being more powerful.
But neither has the Abarth’s berserker attitude that makes every drive feel like a Valkyrie charge directly into the flaming mouth of madness accompanied by an army of screaming baboons, hungry wolves and Vikings.
And that is what makes it so very special.