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Mind you, we're not talking about Mini levels of spending here. Fiat insists the new car is a real Fiat, a car at populist prices. The guys from Fiat call the Mini 'elitist', and they have a point when you work out how easy it is to rack up £15,000 even on a Mini One. The 1959 Mini was expensive too. The 1957 500 wasn't.

On 4 July 1957 Fiat launched the 500. It was so basic it didn't even have a proper back seat, or rear window, Fiat wanting to prevent it from cannibalising sales from its fractionally less tiny 600. In fact, though people loved the idea of the 500, at first they didn't buy it, because it was just too basic.

Within months, Fiat cut the price and made a new 'standard version' for the original money with extra kit. (A rear seat! Hubcaps! Wind down windows! A power increase from 13 to 15bhp! Oh Mr Agnelli, how you do spoil us!) With that, a legend was born.

Launching the new car exactly half a century later, on 4 July 2007, Fiat hopes not to make the same mistake. The new 500 won't be under equipped. Neither will it really suffer too much in comparison with Fiat's other small cars, the Panda and the Punto. The 500 isn't as roomy or practical as they are, but it isn't meant to be a utility purchase to motorise a nation. It's a thing of joy.

Quite how much joy I'm about to find out. Sitting in it is an odd experience: eyes closed, all the main touch points are exactly as per my Panda 100HP Lifer - the seat holds me the same way, and it has a matching relationship to the pedals and wheel and stalks, while the six speed gearlever has that same high mounting and handily short travel.

The sound of the starter motor and keen-edged idle of the 1.4 engine are as familiar to me as my own breathing. But eyes open, it's all different, not just the dash and dials and buttons, but the more rounded, lowertopped windscreen, the view down the flanks in the mirrors and the disappearing bonnet

It moves off gracefully, thanks to an initial throttle calibration that's a lot less pointlessly aggressive than in my Panda. At town speeds the ride is more pliant, it's not as supple as an Aygo or, indeed, the non-sporty Panda versions. As far as I could tell on Turin tarmac, which was a lot less shattered than the London variety, the wheels hit bumps without making the clang you expect from a car this tiny.

Accelerating or cruising at motorway speeds, it's the engine that makes the running on your ears. This is never a quiet car. But it's an engine you can live with, because it's never rough, even as it sails past 6,000 cheerfully ignoring the red line.

The rev-limiter actually lets you have 7,000 for a second while you shift up. Just as well it thrives being worked like that, because even in sixth, it's revving busily at motorway speeds.

The alternative 1.3 diesel is a little chattery and doesn't have anything like the topend vim of the petrol, but it's torquey and goes forever on a litre of fuel. The brakes deserve a mention, not just because the pedal's progressive and has access to surprisingly strong retarding force, but also because if you hit the pedal in a curve or crest, when lots of small cars would weave about a bit, the 500 carries on true.

Cornering is a laugh, a process where you feel involved, definitely not just a steer-and-go exercise. The little car scoots through bends with an appetite, despite a fair bit of roll, and throughout the arc you can trim things on the throttle.

Even though there isn't actually a whole lot of steering feel, you get a clear sense through the seat of the back and front ends working, so you can load up one or the other to suit your purpose. It pays to turn into sharp bends progressively though, or you'll be lost in the mean streets of Understeer City.