Life in the Panda Lane

Georgetto Giugiaro is an elegant man, always impeccably dressed in well-tailored suits and with a somewhat flamboyant coiffure. He designed such iconic cars as the Maserati Coupe, Alfa Romeo Giulia Sprint, the Back to the Future DeLorean, and … the Fiat Panda. It is no less of technological marvel.

Italy’s best-selling car ever has been produced continuously since 1980, but its classic period

runs from 1986 to 2003. Despite the easy association, the Panda is not named after the cuddly bear, but after Empanda, goddess of country people. Nowadays, the tiny box-shaped car is affectionately known as the Pandino, little Panda, which distinguishes it from its fattened more grown-up descendants.

The bewildering amount of model variations – Young, Happy, Jolly, Hobby, and Dance – can

only be recognized by a connoisseur. The one variant that does stand out has four-wheel drive, the first small car to be equipped with such an innovation, and it commands a substantial premium in the second-hand car market. However, regardless of all the alternatives, the Pandino remained true to being a cheap simple car tasked with being able to transport two demijohns of 50 litres of wine in the boot when the backseat is folded.

Unlike Giulia Imperio, the Pandino is not beautiful. It is not even cute like an old Fiat 500 or

Mini Cooper. It has flat windows to minimize the cost and thick boxy sheet metal to make it robust.

No wonder it has been given the epithet macchina da guerra, war machine. It can do anything and survive anything. Like Giulia, the champion Italian weightlifter who weighs a mere 49 kg and can lift 101 kg from the ground to above her head, it can proportionately transport far more than an American monster truck. Admittedly, world-record holder Lasha Talakhadze can lift 267 kg, but then he weighs in at 183 kg. Not surprisingly then, the cost of buying, running, and maintaining a Pandino is far below that of a Ford F-150.

Every year a Pandino rally is held in Cuglieri and nearby villages. There is also a Fiat 500 rally,

which like veteran car rallies the world over, consists of meticulously maintained shiny cars that glide down streets showing themselves off to eager onlookers. Not so the Pandino rally. If it moves, it’s there. It can be rusty, dirty, and in need of repairs. Youngsters jump on the roofs, as they drive tooting down the streets, from village to village, going from one meal to the next throughout the day.

When we moved to Cuglieri, we bought a large Citroen with seating, at a pinch, for seven

people, figuring that it would be handy to move people and things around and travel comfortably. Although it was not new, it did not have a scratch on it. Within one year, Cuglieri had ‘customised’ it.

Then our son bought a Pandino and I started driving it. And using it. Taking the rubbish to the recycling centre; pushing the food truck into place; standing on it to fix the wire on top of our parasol; keeping a collection of tools in it that could come in handy; transporting tables, chairs, doors, whatever. And just having fun rediscovering the joy of driving from my teenage years in Rome in the seventies.

More importantly, people here started to say that now I had become a real Cuglieritano, a

citizen of Cuglieri. Because the Pandino holds a special place in the heart of Italians, and Sardinians in particular. Even those that have never owned a Pandino get a particular tone in their voices when they speak of it. Sardinians may not be the richest, the tallest, the best, but, by God, they are resilient, and they get the job done. And that is something worth being proud of. Just like the Pandino.

Jonathan Clyne