The cult of Panda
Why the little Italian legend is better than a Land Rover
As a reformed (-ing?) motoring journalist, I’ve been waffling enthusiastically about Fiat Pandas for years. When my parents bought me my first car in 2008, Pandas had fallen way out of fashion, and what I really wanted was a classic Mini, but they were all over £1000 so I had to ‘make do’ with a 1992 Panda instead. It cost £284, despite having an MOT and nothing whatsoever wrong with it. I still have it, and it means the world to me.
Here in Italy, I’m seeing what sets them apart from the rest. I was unprepared for the sheer number of Pandas on these roads. And not just wonky ones either. Nice ones. It’s common knowledge that they’re popular here, and less afflicted by rust than in the UK, but I’m amazed by the degree to which that’s true. It’s Panda heaven!
The original Panda (1980-2003) is one of the few vehicles that deserves to be called ‘iconic’, sharing that revered old cliché with the original Mini, the Volkswagen Beetle and the Series I Land-Rover. It was, and still is, everything it needed to be and nothing more. Pared back, simple and cheap, but far from crap. Functionality was its forte, and it had character too. Fiat, with wizard-like ingenuity that derived its cleverness from simplicity rather than convoluted engineering solutions, perfected the small-car recipe.
It was narrow enough for medieval streets yet somehow had a surprisingly capacious boot. Early examples even had fold-flat seats so you could sleep in them. The engines were torquey for their size and deliciously revvy, especially the later water-cooled ‘FIRE’ ones. (Fire' stands for Fully Integrated Robotised Engine, referring to the swanky new factory the engines were made in.) The overall structure was very light too (barely 750kg), so the result was a peppy little thing with plenty of poke for city driving, climbing hills or popping between towns. For those rarer occasions when a Panda had to hit the highway, Fiat fitted a five-speed gearbox at a time when Renault Clio and Volkswagen Polo owners were thrashing their little four-speeders.
The old Panda never had leather seats or ABS or airbags or Bluetooth, but when you’re only going from here to there, do you need all that?
There’s something about the boxy shape, too. Despite a very good friend of mine declaring “What a horrid little car!” when he first clapped eyes on my Panda (something I refuse to forgive him for), its designer Giorgetto Giugaro thought it represented the best work of his career. This was the man who also designed the DeLorean, the Mk1 Volkswagen Golf, various Ferraris and Maseratis, and a personal favourite, the Alfa Romeo 105 series coupé.
For the Panda to mean so much to him says something not just about its design, but also about the way it became part of the fabric of Italian life.
Here in the hill towns of Italy, most old Pandas are in good condition. Some are superb. There are special editions, 4x4s, ‘cooking spec’ Pandas, later FIRE-engined Pandas and early air-cooled pre-facelift Pandas. The full gamut. Back in the UK, many of these would set Facebook groups and Fiat forums buzzing. I’m talking old-shape Pandas with zero rust, original paint, and interior upholstery that hasn’t been roosted in by livestock. Some might have suffered in the heat of the sun, but blemishes like that are only surface deep. Despite the rural stereotype, these cars are cherished, and driven by a wide spectrum of society, not just moustachioed old croaks.
A few houses have all three generations of Panda parked outside, spanning 30 years of motoring evolution or more. Yesterday I saw a classic Panda with Croce Rossa Italiana (Italian Red Cross) livery performing some kind of delivery rounds.
Waxing lyrical about the Series I Land Rover in an old episode of Top Gear, Richard Hammond says, “I defy you to find one way in which it fails to measure up, to be what it’s supposed to be and do what it’s supposed to do.” (It’s misty-eyed but a great bit of screenwriting – worth watching.) That always struck me as a true and noble thing, but here’s the thing, Mr Hammond… it can be said of the Fiat Panda every bit as much as the Land Rover.
More so, because these classic Pandas are proving themselves to be as practical today as they ever were. They won’t depreciate, they’re dead simple to fix, they’ll carry just as much stuff as newer cars, and in my experience (having hired the latest hybrid version in Greece last year) they’re just as fuel-efficient as their modern equivalent.
The same can’t be said for Beetles, Minis or Series Land Rovers. Not that there was anything wrong with them, but the world has changed; our highways are faster and our demands are greater. While there are a few fools (including myself) who keep a Series Land Rover and insist to anyone who’ll listen that it’s as sensible a vehicle as it ever was, there aren’t many of us around, and we’re not completely sane. Heart is ruling head on that one, but head won’t admit it.
The original Panda, however, still makes sense. Here, at least. It caters for a slice of the world that needs and wants it now as much as ever. Call me old-fashioned, but I hope it always will.
Just don’t have a crash in one.