One of the great privileges of being a motoring journalist is having the opportunity to test a huge range of new vehicles. Much of my life is spent analyzing the trim quality of the latest budget compact, but now and again my grubby paws get to steer something more exotic. Recently, for example, I swapped the smart for a Ferrari 575M Maranello, which I took on a sojourn to the Magny Cours circuit in France to meet up with supermodel Jodie Kidd and the exclusive Club Fiorano.
It's a depressing fact of life that when one has tasted the finest Champagne, fizzy wine tastes all the poorer, and it's the same with cars. Step from an Audi A8 into an A6 and the once plush executive car feels humdrum and low rent. It's never easy, but the regression from Ferrari to smart wasn't half as severe as I might have expected.
For sure, the little Brabus doesn't have the poke (101 bhp vs. 515 bhp), the image or the exquisite cabin, but it does compensate with a sheer joie de vivre that never fails to induce a grin. And my wallet appreciates that the smart averaged 41.26 mpg last month, compared with the 10 mpg I managed in the Ferrari-especially when gas costs nearly $8 a gallon where I live.
Here in London, the smart brand has always appealed to people who can afford something better. Many S Class owners also own a smart fourtwo (the really small smart that looks like an igloo) and use it for sojourns into the city, where parking is a nightmare. The first smart I ever drove belonged to Sir Stirling Moss, who'd had it imported from Germany and reckoned that he used it more than his SL. After more than 5,000 miles behind the wheel, I can understand why the Roadster-Coupe is also appealing to such people. In a country still obsessed by social status, this is a genuinely classless car.
I've even gone some way to achieving a solution for my luggage problem. Although the smart has plenty of luggage capacity in comparison to most roadsters, it's still compromised as an everyday car. The cure, I was promised, lay in the form of a piece of bespoke "smartware." Ever gullible, I invested 90 ($168) in a smart suit-carrier to test the theory.
Most manufacturer-supported luggage is no more than a re-badged and expensive version of typical high street fair, but the smartware range has actually been designed to fit the car. My "traveller bag" fits snugly into a section of the smart's rear boot, enabling me to make better use of the available space. The quality is good, there are some useful shoe pockets and it's nice to note that the branding is limited to a discreet badge. I've never felt the need to tell the rest of the airport what type of car I drive.
It's typical of the attention to detail that's evident throughout this car, which thus far is proving to be a pleasure to own. I've even managed to avoid the leaking roof that seems to have afflicted some of my smart-driving colleagues. One Brabus-driving friend complains that her cabin is left sodden after a particularly heavy downpour, but this is not a problem I've encountered. In a fit of sadism I even took my smart through a carwash, only for the cabin to emerge bone dry. Nevertheless, it's an issue I'll be keeping an eye on.
There have been many times during a wet, cold and miserable British winter when I wondered whether I might not have been better off choosing something more sensible. An SUV would have swallowed my luggage with greater ease and ridden more easily over the hundreds of speed bumps that litter the roads around my house. But for every moment when I curse the smart's harsh ride or its diminutive proportions, there are many more when I take delight in the fact that I'm driving something clever and genuinely different. I live alone and I'd feel silly in an SUV, just as I'd feel a bit of a prat if my everyday car was a Ferrari.
Quick StatsMileage since last report: 2,708Total mileage: 5,219This month's fuel economy: 41.26 mpgThis month's costs: NilThumbs up: Engine, styling, exhaust note, novelty valueThumbs down: Gearbox, steering, stiff ride, lack of storage space