A Classy Lady Gets a Face Lift

            First introduced in 1957, the Fiat 500 became a symbol of post-war growth and prosperity. For the next eighteen years the little car flitted along with imperceptible exterior design changes and few interior ones.

            Measuring just under ten feet long and fifty-two inches high AND wide, the original Fiat 500 was known as the utilitaria, the useful, or utilitarian, thing—a word that has come to mean “economy car” in Italian today. It’s two-cylinder, rear-mounted, air-cooled engine chugged up hills and coasted to the coast. The cars often carried racks on top, piled high with luggage or picnic gear. I know from personal experience that, despite its diminutive size, the old Fiat 500 could hold at least five people, more if you were young and chummy.

            A favorite color for the old cinquecento (500), or cinquino as they were lovingly known, was red, and a surprising number of them are still on the road today. I even spotted one parked in Washington, D.C.’s tony Georgetown neighborhood a few years ago, although the owner didn’t want to talk about it. I suspect that he had imported it illegally in defiance of U.S. safety standards. The one pictured above belongs to an auto mechanic in Rome.

My character, Professor Nino Nardo of the Caroline Woodlock series, drives one, red of course. It underscores his commitment to Italian history and traditions.

My first experience with the cinquecento came in 1970. A group of journalists had organized dinner at a restaurant on Rome’s Appia Antica (the Appian Way). I soon found myself in the back seat of a cinquecento with two guys. I was married to one of them at the time, but the other, a well-known journalist, was a complete stranger.

It’s impossible to sit three across in a car that’s only fifty-two inches wide, exterior walls included. The two men entered the back seat first, my husband behind the driver, the well-known journalist behind the front-seat passenger, a very pregnant woman who had moved as far forward as possible—not very far.

I wriggled into the back seat, plopping my derrière onto hubby’s lap and extending my legs over the well-known journalist’s. But, alas, there wasn’t enough room. If I bent my knees, they approached the roof and my heels dug into the w-k j’s crotch. Most uncomfortable for all of us. We solved the problem by rolling down the front window. I took off my shoes and extended my feet through the opening, bypassing the w-k j’s lap. We zoomed, as fast as a two-cylinder engine can zoom, down the Via del Corso, around the Colosseum and onto the Appian Way. My feet have never felt so free.

In 2007, fifty years after its initial appearance, Fiat introduced an updated version of the Fiat 500. It’s a little longer, higher and wider than the original and a lot more powerful. A hatchback reveals a surprisingly roomy trunk, and the back seats fold forward to create ample cargo space. A Gucci version is in the works with the telltale stripe and a hand-stitched steering wheel cover.

On my recent visit to the U.S., I rented a car to take me on the 1,500-mile trip I planned to drive. The rental agent assigned me a 2012 Fiat 500—white, not red. I laughed out loud when he told me, but I loved it! It could really zoom, with a power booster that let me climb the Smoky Mountains with ease and outrace trucks on the interstate. It turned out to be a great conversation piece; complete strangers approached me to ask about it. But I never got to put my feet out the window.

Festa della Repubblica

June 2 is a holiday here celebrating Italy’s vote to oust the monarchy. It also marks the first time women voted in this country. This year Italy celebrates the 150th anniversary of its unification as one nation, so it’s been an unusually patriotic year.

The holiday has the usual patriotic trappings with the laying of a wreath on the tomb of the unknown and other formal events. The highlight, as always, is a military parade. Many unexpected groups are considered military here, ranging from firefighters to meteorologists to the Red Cross. They all have a spot in the parade.

The festivities begin with the unfurling of an enormous flag (50 x 30 meters, about 164 x 98 feet) on the Colosseum. Fifty firefighters are required to manage this operation, including twenty who are spaced along the bottom of the furled banner and rappel their way down the wall, keeping the flag flat and even. This red, white, and green draped Colosseum serves as the backdrop for the parade which wends its way down the Via dei Fori Imperiali past a reviewing stand above the forums.

This year, people wearing replicas of many historic uniforms marched, including nurses wearing World War I flowing skirts and headdresses. The Bersaglieri, one of my favorite groups, always wear their historic headgear in parades and at other formal occasions. An elite group of sharpshooters, they are most famous historically for storming Porta Pia and ultimately ending papal rule and unifying Italy. They wear helmets with grouse feathers hanging from the side and they always jog instead of march. Even the brass band jogs and plays with the feathers bouncing in tune.

My other favorite is the Carabinieri mounted police band. Their formal uniforms are covered with elaborate braids and embroidery. A wide red stripe runs down the pant leg. They wear Napoleon-style hats topped with a red and white plume. All the musicians ride white horses. Like other mounted regiments, they come at the end of the parade so no one has to walk through the horse droppings.

The finale is a flyover by the Frecce Tricolori (tricolor arrows), a nine-plane aerobatics team. They do their pre-parade maneuvers in my neighborhood, so I get to watch them turn and twist around as they await the signal to proceed to the parade route. I trot back and forth from balcony to television. When the TV commentator announces that the frecce are coming, I hear one last roar overhead then seconds later see them fly over the Colosseum emitting their characteristic red, white, and green vapor trail.

Not the Fourth of July, but a nice holiday nonetheless.