Woman Maths: Smart Roadster

I was supposed to be on my way into London in my BMW i3 to collect a set of refurbished wheels. Unfortunately, a borrowed hulking Audi Q7 V12 TDI ran over the charging cable and yanked it clean out of its housing… not guilty. So the i3 is sitting there showing one mile of range.

Owning what feels like 17 million cars, you’d think there’d be another option, but alas, only the new-to-us Smart Roadster is taxed, MOT’d and not tucked away at the unit. It’s also a little on the small side for swallowing a set of Ferrari 458 Italia wheels. So I give up, accept that the wheels are staying where they are, and pivot to what I actually wanted to do on this rare Saturday off: go shopping.

Milton Keynes is 33 minutes from my house and the Smart is my only option. I’m not entirely thrilled because the internal door handles are broken and you have to faff about with the windows to get out. I also fear the external handles won’t work either and I’ll have to climb out through the roof.

To say I enjoyed those 33 minutes is an understatement.

It’s basically motorway and roundabouts the entire way there, which shows you just how unlikely it is that I should be making shapes in my seat. It is so light, so nimble and so… back to basics that every turn and every lunge forward feels fun. The stress of the week lifts away and, with the sun on my head and the buffeting wind cocooning me in noise, I feel pure happiness. Toothy grin and everything.

I imagine Gordon Murray on his commute in his Smart Roadster before he swapped it for an Alpine A110, and I wonder whether some of this car’s DNA found its way into the T.50. That thought alone makes me laugh. I’m sure he once said his Smart Roadster could embarrass a 911 in the corners. I can’t remember where I heard it, but as I dart around lumbering SUVs like a dandelion blowing in the wind, I believe it. It is so good for my soul to feel this free from the day to day anxieties.

Now for the Woman Maths.

You cannot argue with the fact that a car costing less than a service and a set of tyres on our 458 is good value. Just under £2800 from a PistonHeads auction bought Thomas (and thus me) a one owner, 30,000-mile car with a full service history. Yes, it leaks (it came with a tent). Yes, it occasionally tries to imprison its occupants. Yes, the gearbox is dated and clunky. Sometimes the roof gets stuck halfway back, the radio doesn’t work because it gets in the way of the aforementioned tent, and it doesn’t have air conditioning (Leichtbau). But (as Jonny Smith would say) who needs the con when the roof comes off?

None of that matters when you’re driving a dandelion car.

What’s even more baffling is that I’m really pushing on and still averaging 47mpg. Fun shouldn’t be possible with fuel economy starting with a four. It’s cheap to buy, cheap to run, and makes plenty of much newer cars look rather silly. Admittedly, it looks a little silly itself. It really is diddly.

Another pleasant surprise is the much maligned automated manual gearbox. Bear with me while I try to explain. If you use the paddles and make the shifts yourself, it becomes a game. You start chasing that perfectly timed gearchange where the interruption almost disappears. Every now and then you’re rewarded with the tiny whistle and whoosh of the turbocharger working its socks off just behind your head. There’s barely any sound deadening, so you hear everything. Apparently some owners fit induction kits just to amplify that glorious little soundtrack.

I completely understand why.

I’ve written all of this in less than an hour since clambering out of the car with AC/DC’s Thunderstruck playing through my portable speaker.

An appropriate soundtrack for how I’m feeling right now.

Photography by Thomas Howarth