Project Petrolhead

“Okay so I’ve accidentally bought a car at auction.”

We’ve all been there, so when I got this message from long-time friend and weird car enthusiast Rob, I was entirely unsurprised. It turned out that he’d seen a car advertised on eBay, put in an insultingly low bid, left it for three days (in which time he’d completely forgotten all about it) before receiving an email asking him to pay up. The car in question? A 2009 Fiat 500.

The problems began almost immediately. Without a trailer, Rob would somehow have to drive the Fiat back to his house, completely unaware of its condition. At least it would be a short journey though, right? Well, no. The car was in Crowborough, just south of Tunbridge Wells and roughly 200 miles away. Coincidentally, I’d returned the day before from a holiday to the Lake District (the spiritual home of Project Petrolhead) and was pretty fed up of motorway driving, but when Rob explained the situation, you’d better believe that I saddled up the Jag once more.

The journey down was unstressed. An early start, clear roads, a quick break for a McDonalds breakfast and before we knew it, we’d arrived in the domain of a man named Graham. Graham is quite the collector of cars himself and took pride in showing us his Smart Roadster (tuned to Brabus specification), Caterham Seven (with the old Duratec lump replaced with an 1100cc motorcycle engine, strictly track-only *wink-wink*) and even a 100-year-old Ford Model T. The car we were interested in, however, was the crusty-looking Fiat tucked away at the bottom of his garden, with the lacquer peeling from its scarlet paint where flower-shaped decals had once been applied. It turned out that Graham was a car dealer by trade, and the Fiat had been taken in part-exchange for something a bit posher. Unable to find a buyer for it and not wanting it to hang around the forecourt, Graham had chucked the Fiat up on eBay at no reserve, expecting somebody to break it for parts. Fortunately for us, the car still ran and drove, even carrying an MOT through until November 2025, so Rob sorted the paperwork, and we took the car on a little test drive.

This particular Fiat (a 2009 500 Sport) is essentially one rung down from a full-fat Abarth 500, sporting the same 1.4 litre engine as other notable fast Fiat: the Panda 100HP (a car that Rob has also owned in the past). Sitting in the driver’s seat for my turn behind the wheel, I realised that I’d forgotten how high-up you feel in a 500. The last one I drove belonged to my Mum about ten years ago, so the whole car gave off a sense of strange nostalgia as slipped the familiar dash-mounted gear lever into first and set off. The steering was light but precise, letting you place the front end quite easily down the country lanes (slightly disconcertingly, I always got the sense it was going to topple over, although it never did). The engine was fairly pokey, with a decent wedge of mid-range torque, great throttle response and a fun, raspy engine note. The best part, however, was the ride. The Panda 100HP is a stiff little so-and-so, with oversized alloys shod with low profile tyres paired to stiffened suspension, the whole car becomes quite crashy when driven on less-than-perfect tarmac, but the 500 Sport? It’s roly-poly suspension and tall sidewalls make it a completely different story.

Happy with his purchase, Rod shook hands with Graham and we both set off. Around a mile or so down the road, I started to hear a noise. First, I thought it was just the wind whitling around the Jag’s open window, so I closed it, but the noise remained. Slowly, the whistle grew louder, into a shrill squeal and then into a loud grinding noise. Fearful that the Jag was about to deposit one of its wheels into a nearby hedge, I pulled over and radioed Rob to come past. As he did, the noise became apparent.

“Oh god, it’s You!”

“I know, I think the handbrake’s binding.”

Marvelous. At the next fuel stop, we gave the 500 a once-over to try and get the rear calliper to un-seize. Luckily, Rob had the foresight to bring a socket set along with him (“Just in case, you never know with cheap Italian cars”) and he quickly managed to release the sticking pads. A hundred miles later, we pulled in at a services for a sit-rep and a sandwich. With that minor issue resolved (Rob had taken to parking the 500 in-gear with the handbrake off, just in case), Rob was quite pleased with his purchase. Visually, it was quite tired and needed new bumpers front and rear as well as a partial re-spray, but mechanically, it was not just sound, it was brilliant. The plan was simple, Rob would drive the Fiat over the summer until his MX-5 was fixed up and back on the road, then he’d break it for parts (the full leather interior, Sport alloys and uncommon engine would easily make him his money back). I agreed, but with one caveat: when the time came to get rid of it, I wanted first refusal.

Truth is, I’d become quite enamoured with the little Fiat in my brief drive, and it was working its charm on me. I’ve never owned an Italian car, despite trying and failing to buy Alfa Romeos in the past, so I feel like this “warm” version of the iconic city car would adequately scratch that itch. Or maybe I just need to put a few cheeky bids in at auction and see what happens.