Are you secure enough to drive the 2024 Fiat 500e?
What a pickup truck guy might think after driving the battery electric 2024 Fiat 500e
By Larry Printz | PICKUPTRUCKTALK.COM
If you’re a pickup truck guy, you don’t understand the redesigned 2024 Fiat 500e. Wait. Does it have a nickname? The Cinquecento? Do I look Italian? What does that mean? Hold on, I have a friend who will know what that means. But I have to ask, why is it called that? And why would you think I would like this?
Look, I like pizza, and maybe a cannoli. Ferrari? I saw the movie. So, what should I want to know about the 2024 Fiat 500e?
Hey, my wife said there was this car, the Fiat 500, where they once did this Gucci edition that she loved. But you wouldn’t buy it; you bought a new set of golf clubs instead.
She hates golf.
You’ve become familiar with the couch. But she loves the frou-frou stuff. And she does so much for you – just not tonight. And she wants a 2024 Fiat 500e. Fiat? Really?
What’s a 500? Wait, let me look it up. Mussolini? He started this? I love him as much as Hitler, but she loved the Beetle, and he stated that, Besides, she once owned one and I’m telling you, we still have happy memories of our bug.
I vaguely remember that the 500 was revived in 2007, and that it quickly became a big thing in Europe. Do I look like I like espresso? It’s like that old joke about coffee – this coffee tastes like mud. Well, it was ground this morning.
Whoever wrote that joke knew what a decent cup of joe tastes like, and I bet they never drove a 2024 Fiat 500e. But from what the missus says, it’s no longer fueled by gasoline. It‘s a battery electric vehicle. You plug it in. Like her hair dryer. And it only takes 35 minutes to recharge it to 80% using a DC fast charger. Ask me how long it takes to get her hair looking good. But she’s beautiful, so it’s worth the time. I do love her.
But I asked her, is the car worth that much time to recharge? It only takes a couple minutes to refuel my Chevrolet Silverado 2500 High Country Duramax Diesel.
But she loves it. And compared to my Chevy, I can’t believe she’d look at it any longer than I’d look at a Ricky Martin video. Look, I believe in La Vida Loca. But…
So, what can I do? I look at the car. OK. I wouldn’t admit this in front of my buds, but it looks like it has a face. She thinks it’s cute. Whatever.
Then I open the door. It may look like a speed bump, but it has all kinds of front seat space, enough to fit my friend Steve, who looks as if he just ate a Fiat 500.
OK, fine. You like it? Fine. Is it fast? She says it has 117 horsepower and 162 pound-feet of torque – whatever that is. Then she calls me something unmentionable and challenges me to drive it. I say, please don’t post this. I’m driving this for you. Then I get in it and press my right foot to the floor.
Mother Mary Jesus.
OK. Don’t tell Jim, he’ll give me shit, but this little automotive wart is an absolute hoot to drive. Look, we all know how we intimidate cul-de-sac life forms with our armory-sized transportation. But we can swipe fear into their hearts by stealing their Andrea Doria-length stopping distances by suddenly pulling in front of you and stealing your stopping distance? Mamma Mia!
We come to a stop and I look around. There are driving modes. Normal, Range and Sherpa. Wait, Sherpa? What’s that? So, when you swear you have enough power to get home, and your wife says that you don’t. Damn. Right again. OK. Put it in Sherpa mode and WTF, it activates heavy regenerative braking, capturing energy generated during deceleration that recharges the battery and ensures you’re not walking home to a Greek chorus of “I told you so.”
But hey, she loves, me. And she knows how stupid I am, even though she’s wrong.
This little automotive wart is a blast and a half – a huge respite from the Nimitz-sized hulk I normally drive. Really. She’s right. Change of pace.
Something different. Just don’t expect me to admit it. It’s not so much fun to dart in front of massive trucks named after mountains or legendary expeditions or insecure automotive executive fantasies.
But here’s the thing. The 2024 Fiat 500e is the perfect automotive, an house slipper made for darting around town, fulfilling the mundane undertakings of life. And it’s so cute, you’ll want to name it.
Just let us know what it is.