For most people these Cinquecento Sportings are just another tin-box-on-wheels supermini, the like of which are typically 'Barried' and then buried, usually through a hedge. These are the kind of cars that slip into extinction without anyone really noticing, which would be a shame. Because, if not a 205 GTi or Clio Williams in terms of its hot hatch celebrity, this little Fiat holds a place in my heart.
Mainly because my mum bought one, having taken her Tipo in for a replacement clutch. "The salesman was VERY NICE," was her slightly flushed explanation. I'd enjoyed the Tipo but the arrival of the Sporting was very good news indeed for an 18-year-old Dan. Or was until I discovered I wasn't insured on it.
Or so I understood. Then one evening I got a phonecall asking to be picked up from a pub out in the moors. "I can't, you didn't insure me on the car," I huffed. "Oh. About that…" I then had to balance the instinct to leave them with a long walk home. Against excitement at getting to drive the Cinquecento. Obviously the latter won out.