I don’t know why, but I’ve wanted to drive a Smart Car for years. I always assumed it would be awful, but it was different, so I wanted to try it.
On a side note, I have to imagine Samoan Mike said something similar the first time he picked up a transsexual prostitute. Unlike Mike’s hookers, there is no way in hell you’ll ever get me inside of one of those cars again.
I got a model Fortwo for the day, and the first thing I did was take it out to I-95. It took about 13 seconds to reach 60 miles per hour, and at about 80, it felt like it wanted to fly off the road. It only weighs about 1,600 pounds, and every time a semi passed the thing shook like Michael J. Fox. Ditto if you got caught in a truck’s wash. I’m fairly difficult to rattle, but after an hour on the Interstate my nerves were shot and I had to get off and
have a few drinks drive Route 1.
There is really nothing good about this car. Its one-liter three cylinder engine somehow manages to vibrate the entire car when you’re stopped, and when you accelerate, it lurches with every gear change. The suspension is nonexistent, and even though its only eight-feet long, it still somehow manages to corner like a bus. If you drive this car aggressively, you will go right off the road like I did.
The absolute worst part of the whole deal was the fuel economy was only about 33 mpg. That’s only slightly better than my manual transmission Accord, which handles great, rides like a dream and has a trunk big enough to hold three day laborers. This car was meant for congested European cities and much like mimes, that’s where it needs to stay.