John R Smith
Member
Fellow 500 enthusiasts –
I have to tell you that this little red car is having a very bad influence on me. Here I am, a staid local government officer, now in the twilight of my years, fit only for the bus pass, slippers by the fire and hand-knitted cardigan, transformed against my will into a near-psychotic hooligan by my red bambino. Now that the engine has loosened up rather nicely, I find myself going faster and faster as the 500 whispers in my ear –
“More! More revs! 5,000 rpm sucks, you jesse, give it a boot-full! That’s more like it – no don’t change up, you big girl's blouse, I can do 90 in fourth – you can overtake the next two plebs in their Corsas and Fiestas easily before the brow of the hill. Now then, roundabout coming up – no, no, you’re braking far too soon, wimp, leave it late, even later, into second, give it full noise – wahoo, that’s more like it, that’s what tyres are for”.
And so it goes. Instead of driving the short, sensible way home from work, I find myself going the long, twisty way round, imagining I am Moss on the Mille Miglia (that tells you how ancient I am), and doing an extra ten miles just for the hell of it. To think that only a few short weeks ago I was a model of respectability as I sat in the morning traffic queue in our old 205. It is all Fiat’s fault, of course. They have built something into the 1.4 Sport which overcomes the driver’s better judgement and returns him or her to the days of their reckless youth. No-one cautioned me about this. Certainly not the nice salesman at the Fiat dealers. Even worse, they will soon be tempting us with the Abarth.
My friends, you have been warned. For many of you, it is not too late. Cancel your orders now
John
I have to tell you that this little red car is having a very bad influence on me. Here I am, a staid local government officer, now in the twilight of my years, fit only for the bus pass, slippers by the fire and hand-knitted cardigan, transformed against my will into a near-psychotic hooligan by my red bambino. Now that the engine has loosened up rather nicely, I find myself going faster and faster as the 500 whispers in my ear –
“More! More revs! 5,000 rpm sucks, you jesse, give it a boot-full! That’s more like it – no don’t change up, you big girl's blouse, I can do 90 in fourth – you can overtake the next two plebs in their Corsas and Fiestas easily before the brow of the hill. Now then, roundabout coming up – no, no, you’re braking far too soon, wimp, leave it late, even later, into second, give it full noise – wahoo, that’s more like it, that’s what tyres are for”.
And so it goes. Instead of driving the short, sensible way home from work, I find myself going the long, twisty way round, imagining I am Moss on the Mille Miglia (that tells you how ancient I am), and doing an extra ten miles just for the hell of it. To think that only a few short weeks ago I was a model of respectability as I sat in the morning traffic queue in our old 205. It is all Fiat’s fault, of course. They have built something into the 1.4 Sport which overcomes the driver’s better judgement and returns him or her to the days of their reckless youth. No-one cautioned me about this. Certainly not the nice salesman at the Fiat dealers. Even worse, they will soon be tempting us with the Abarth.
My friends, you have been warned. For many of you, it is not too late. Cancel your orders now
John
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