Recently, on a trip to Italy, I was presented with an interesting predicament. The group I had traveled with had decided to venture south from Rome to the scenic Amalfi Coast and consequently booked a charming Airbnb in the hills overlooking the glistening Mediterranean. Anybody in their right mind would have paid the 20 euros for the bus ticket and been done with it. However, due to the Italian’s propensity for going on strike on any given weekday ending in the letter y, I was essentially forced to rent a car. Oh joy.
Now you might be thinking, “So what? Renting a car in a foreign country can’t be THAT bad.” Usually, you’d be right. But we’re talking about Italy here. The Italian road network and unspoken rules of the road may as well make driving in Mexico comparable to driving in Germany. Lane markings don’t exist. Signage has no apparent meaning or dictation on traffic. Gangs roam the streets on colorful Vespas eradicating tourist drivers one by one.
Simply put, I was terrified. Despite this, I was able to reserve a modicum of excitement for the ability to drive something small and weird. Something your typical auto-enthusiast might never get to see on our shores.
Thanks to Europcar Roma Tiburtina Stazione (Motto: Good luck trying to find our desk), they placed my group of 5 and all of our luggage into a 2018 Fiat Panda 1.2 with just 15 km on the odometer. Notable features included power front windows and grey paint. Unfortunately, not only was the car I booked under the “Peugeot 508 estate or similar” category woefully undersized, but it was also, in typical rental car fashion, possibly the most base model Panda money could buy.
First, I would like to begin with the styling. Like most, I found the Panda to be cute and even quite endearing, more so than the animal it happens to be named after. Its big headlights and cheery grill give the Panda a joyful face. Almost like it’s happy to see you after a long day of being backed into by other cars. Moving around the car, it’s easy to pick up that the designers were heavily inspired by the square. The wheel arches, the door trims, the quarter windows, the reflectors, even the center caps on the wheels scream “square.” Yet, despite all the squareness, the Panda is a fun-looking, chunky, city car that any funky piano teacher might consider a suitable replacement for their dying 1998 Volkswagen New Beetle.
Likewise, the square theme extends, almost excessively, onto the interior. Never before have I seen squares forced into such uncomfortable circumstances. The dials were square. The climate controls were square. The gear knob was a cube. Frankly, I found the use of the shape to be rather aggressive. I got the feeling that if the designers could’ve used Gerrit Rietveld’s Red and Blue chairs rather than regular car seats, they would’ve. I can only fault the Panda’s interior on the steering wheel. This was round. If you’re going to theme your entire interior around a shape, you have to go all in.
Overall the Panda, surprisingly, wasn’t that horrible to drive. The gear change was slick, the engine was revvy, and the suspension was remarkably good at handling the spaghetti that is the Italian coastal road network. Dare I say it, but the Panda was even…fun. More importantly, its small size, upright driving position, and large greenhouse made the Panda easy to place even in the most butt-clenching situations. Like when a madman in a Dacia Duster coming from the opposite direction on a very narrow street simply decided it was all his at that point. In terms of squeezing into underwear-soiling scenarios, the Panda receives top marks.
Overall the Panda was beginning to shape up to be a pretty good little car. It was stylish, likable, incredibly practical, and somewhat entertaining to drive. However, we need to address the elephant in the room. The powertrain.
I shall start with the transmission. Surely, being a city car, this thing wasn’t meant to have the closest of ratios, but did first and second really have to be far enough apart to be able to place another gear between them? Also, why did first have to be so ridiculously low? Redline in first occurs at a brisk walking pace. Things aren’t helped by the fact that second is so much higher than first that, in everyday driving scenarios, you might stall if you simply shift into second. On one particular occasion, while ascending an incline a native Nebraskan would classify as “mild,” I downshifted to first to avoid bogging out. I had my foot welded to the floor, doing my best to keep the Panda moving. At this precise moment, I was swiftly passed by a woman on a Vespa. I couldn’t have possibly been more humiliated.
And that brings us to the engine. All 62 horsepower of it. Yes. Fiat is selling a car in the new millennium with less horsepower than most motorcycles. Let that sink in for a moment. In typical Italian fashion, it’s actually a lovely little thing that was willing to rev freely and sounded pretty good. But my God was it gutless. Acceleration in fifth gear could only be described as “nonexistent.” The overtaking procedure is listed as follows.
- Check Mirror to ensure that the passing lane is totally clear behind.
- Turn on signal.
- Downshift and floor it.
- Move into the passing lane.
- Acquire aggravated Italian driver 4 inches away from your bumper.
- Endure the ravages of the next ice age.
- Give up and move back.
With an official 0-60 time of 14.2 seconds (Presumably with only one very small Italian aboard) and 19.8 seconds fully loaded in my highly scientific tollbooth acceleration test, the Panda takes the honors for being the slowest vehicle I have ever driven. By comparison, the pace of a congressional hearing would be considered exhilarating. The lack of power in the Panda was simply astounding. With five people in the car, it was simply impossible to do a hill start. On several occasions, and I’m being serious, I had to kindly ask my passengers to get out of the car and wait to jump in when it started moving again. It would’ve only been more humiliating if I had to ask them to push.
Finally, I need to address the equipment level. I know I’m going after low fruit here with a base model rental, but I still found what came standard to be… bizarre. This confusion quickly morphed into frustration as soon as I merged onto the autostrada and realized that the car didn’t come with cruise control. Really? No cruise control? Come on. Trying to drive over 3 hours at a consistent speed on a highway system that prides itself in its speed cameras without access to cruise control can be stressful. It also led to some rather concerning cramps in my right leg. Never before has a car been able to make me lose control of any of my muscles.
My next gripe has to deal with the in-car entertainment, or really the lack thereof. It did have a radio, but because I speak English and the Italians speak Italian, regular frequencies were of no interest to me. I then tried to connect my phone via Bluetooth to the audio system. However, it seemed as if the button wasn’t working. In actuality, the button was never even programmed to function in the first place. Fiat simply placed a connectivity button in every car yet decided not to make it standard. Finally, the car did have a USB connection but not an AUX jack. This would have been fine if the USB connection didn’t have the reliability of a heroin addict.
Despite the major deficit in power and other minor objections, I came to like the Panda the more I spent time with it. Something I rarely experience with a rental car. The cute styling and general Italianness of it all made its problems easier to bear. By no means did it forgive them all, but it made the experience tolerable. Regardless, I still enjoyed driving the Panda every time I got the chance to get behind the wheel. Though I never again want to drive in Italy, I recommend renting a car abroad to any gearhead. The ability to try something small and weird, like the Panda, is an eye-opening experience you will never forget.
Just be sure to ask Europcar for a 10-passenger van to guarantee something that has enough room for a duffel bag in the trunk.