What is it like on the inside?
Suicide doors rule. The fact your backside leads the way into the car is questionable, but the stepping out part is just superb. The cabin is narrow, the two front seats butting up against each other, but that’s never inconvenient because each is so soft and springy you sink into its centre rather than sliding around.
There’s little in your direct eye view to distract you: a speedo that reads up to 140kmh, gauges for petrol and battery and then off to the centre of the car a confusing array of knobs and levers.
The rear seats are very like the fronts, and with no headrests you not only enjoy a panoramic view forward, but the whole car feels more social and inclusive. It’s an intimate environment – if hardly a safety benchmark (not that anything back then was). Not only no headrests, but no seatbelts either. Plus the mirrors show little, the headlights, gloriously yellow though they are, less, so you end up relying on the liberte, egalite, fraternite of other drivers.