Can this pint-size but pricey hot EV deliver day-to-day practicality and B-road thrills?
Why we ran it: This hi-vis EV could be the future of hot hatches. Should we be excited?
Pumped-up Fiat EV departs in a blaze of colour. Glory, too?
The story around Abarth’s first electric car has changed quite substantially since we took delivery just a few months ago.
When this warmed-up Fiat 500e was launched, the electric hot hatch segment was barely in existence, and those cars that were on offer were much bigger, more family-focused propositions like the Cupra Born and Smart #1 Brabus.
But since then, Mini has come to market with the Cooper SE, the Renault 5-based Alpine A290 is inbound and Volkswagen is working on an electric follow-up to the Polo GTI.
And just a few weeks ago, it emerged that Stellantis was pausing production of the Fiat and Abarth 500e, because it simply couldn’t find homes for all the EVs that Turin was pumping out. That isn’t only a Fiat problem, of course, but it does raise questions about the ultimate desirability of this tiny, short-legged and relatively costly proposition.
In light of all those developments, it will be as annoying to you as it is to me that after several months and a few thousand miles at the helm, I still haven’t quite arrived at a prevailing judgement on the Abarth 500e.
On a purely objective basis, it’s easily done — and of course we rate cars conclusively every week in our reviews section.
According to the criteria applied there, I can tell you exactly how good this silent but violent supermini really is: it’s pretty fun to drive and looks brilliant, but its interior is a bit basic, it has a short range and it’s very expensive, resulting in an overall rating of three and a half stars.
But that judgement, based as it is on cold hard stats and rational comparisons, can’t really account for the influence of subjectivity and The story around Abarth’s first electric car has changed quite substantially since we took delivery just a few months ago.
When this warmed-up Fiat 500e was launched, the electric hot hatch segment was barely in existence, and those cars that were on offer were much bigger, more family-focused propositions like the Cupra Born and Smart #1 Brabus.
But since then, Mini has come to market with the Cooper SE, the Renault 5-based Alpine A290 is inbound and Volkswagen is working on an electric follow-up to the Polo GTI.
And just a few weeks ago, it emerged that Stellantis was pausing production of the Fiat and Abarth 500e, because it simply couldn’t find homes for all the EVs that Turin was pumping out. That isn’t only a Fiat problem, of course, but it does raise questions about the ultimate desirability of this tiny, short-legged and relatively costly proposition.
In light of all those developments, it will be as annoying to you as it is to me that after several months and a few thousand miles at the helm, I still haven’t quite arrived at a prevailing judgement on the Abarth 500e.
On a purely objective basis, it’s easily done — and of course we rate cars conclusively every week in our reviews section.
According to the criteria applied there, I can tell you exactly how good this silent but violent supermini really is: it’s pretty fun to drive and looks brilliant, but its interior is a bit basic, it has a short range and it’s very expensive, resulting in an overall rating of three and a half stars.
But that judgement, based as it is on cold hard stats and rational comparisons, can’t really account for the influence of subjectivity and the most of the average B-road.
I remain convinced that part of this car’s problem is that the Fiat 500e is already a jolly thing to punt around in, has a longer range and can be had for considerably less.
The bigger-battery version that Fiat is working on will only enhance that car’s appeal if it doesn’t bring too much of a cost increase. But I can’t help wondering if the 500e’s real saviour, ironically, will be the hybrid version that’s due in 2026.
It remains to be seen what the Abarth variant of that will look like, but here’s hoping that it will be every bit as lairy as the EV and just a pinch more engaging and useful.
Second Opinion
The 500e felt extremely well suited to city driving. Its diddy wheelbase and punchy motor made for swift, easy progress down tight streets and in traffi c. But my enthusiasm for it was tempered by its excessively strong regen, which made it very diffi cult to drive and park smoothly, especially when reversing
Jonathan Bryce
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Love it
Detailed design Neat design touches abound, the transparent front indicator protrusions and angry eyebrows being particular highlights.
Inoffensive touchscreen The infotainment interface was basic and a bit ponderous but never aggravating, which feels like a win in 2024.
NIcely peppy It had just about enough pace to feel ‘hot’ within the confines of the speed limit.
Loathe it
Cringeworthy sound I once accidentally activated the exhaust synthesiser on a busy highstreet and nearly died of embarrassment.
Binary system The regenerative braking is either sickeningly harsh at low speeds or off entirely. Give us some adjustment, please.
Final mileage: 6784
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How does our hot electric hatch compare with its petrol equivalent? – 25 September
Well, this is awkward. Just 24 hours before an Abarth 695 is due to be delivered to me for the purposes of an innocent comparison test with its fluorescent electrically powered alternative, Autocar’s indefatigable news hounds discover that the damned thing has gone off sale: Fiat is finally retiring the petrol-engined 500 and its sporting derivative.
It has been a long time coming, of course. When we first drove the reborn 500 in 2007 (“A bad day to be a Mini dealer,” the immortal cover line proclaimed), Gordon Brown was a week into his premiership, Rihanna was at number one in the charts with Umbrella, and Manchester United had just topped the Premier League.
Sorry if that cultural cross-reference prompted any existential crises, but spare a thought for yours truly: I was in my final month of primary school when that magazine was on sale, and after writing this story I will be resealing the skirting boards in my study before settling down to compare energy providers and watch University Challenge with a ginger tea.
The petrol 500 is old, then. In fact, it was the UK market’s oldest mainstream car before it was retired. And it feels it. Even if the Abarth version is technically a year newer than the regular 500, there’s no getting around its noughties origins, in spite of updates and light facelifts throughout its life.
No wonder that when the petrol 500 (and presumably the Abarth version) returns in 2025, it will do so with the architecture and bodywork of its EV counterpart, allowing it to benefit from the safety, technological, and refinement advances made over the intervening years.
Beyond the glaring technical and material contrasts, though, and despite the whopping £9000 price gulf, what’s striking is just how undeniably similar these two Abarths are, either for better or for worse.
For starters, this 695 had an automatic gearbox: a dim-witted and rough-edged robotised manual that, as well as resoundingly dulling the car’s accelerative appeal matches the EV for tiresome jerkiness in Sport mode.
Pretty soon you find that each car is best operated in Normal mode with a light right foot in daily driving situations, lest you soon tire of the nausea-inducing head lolling that accompanies every throttle stab or unpredictable ratio change.
So too are both cars hamstrung by an uncompromisingly firm coil-sprung chassis that dents their propensity to amuse on the daily commute, although it’s the 695 that grates most harshly. It crashes across potholes and thunks noisily over bumps, each incursion rattling through the seat and into the base of your spine.
There’s so little give in the suspension that you can quite easily feel the paint of a zebra crossing as it passes underneath you, and the steering is quite obviously affected by any lumps or dips mid-corner — which can be unnerving at higher speeds.
It had been a long time since I had driven something that rode this badly. If you told me it had sawn-off broom handles inside its springs instead of dampers, I would believe you. The 500e, which is still a stiffly sprung car by any objective measure, feels like a Citroën CX in comparison.
The technological disparity between the two cars is also vast. Here, as other EVs in the £35k-£40k price bracket, the 500e can’t help but feel slightly ‘previous-generation’ with its relatively bare-bones interior, basic infotainment, slow charging speeds, and short range.
But in terms of what it followed, it actually takes on an air of the space-age. Wireless Apple CarPlay? Keyless start? A reversing camera? I suddenly feel like one of the Jetsons.
I’ve completely reassessed my judgement of this luminescent lout after spending some proper time in its forebear. Its ride has gone from shocking to irritating, its previously underwhelming off-the-mark acceleration now feels suitably exciting and the cockpit is, comparatively at least, downright opulent.
Even the 500e’s short range doesn’t seem so much of an issue now: the 695 will go twice as far between fill-ups, but I needed a break well before the tank was half-emptied, so the two are pretty much on a par for boring town driving.
I still don’t think the 500e is worth its ticket price, but there’s no denying that real progress has been made here — and, happily, it has been achieved without compromising that abidingly juvenile charm that has always persuaded us to overlook its predecessor’s flaws. It still has kerb appeal, it still steers sweetly and it’s still — overall — pretty good fun to be around.
Plus, if you forget to turn off the fake exhaust, it sounds just as annoying as its predecessor.
Love it
Exit stage left
No transmission tunnel means I can exit via the passenger door without pulling any muscles if I’m parked in a tight spot.
Loathe it
Guilty as charged
The charging pad has decided that it doesn’t get on with my own phone — but it does, curiously, still like my work phone.
Mileage: 6357
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Small boot, but well packaged – 11 September
Having picked up a baguette on the way to a barbecue, I was worried about it getting crushed under the charging cables in the Abarth’s tiny boot. It turned out that comically sized parcel shelf has a use, after all: not only did it keep my bread intact but the sun blazing in through the windscreen even kept it warm. The perks of a ‘pain in the backside’, it seems.
Mileage: 5945
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Our electric hot hatch captures the zeitgeist in both good ways and bad – 4 September
When I first drove an Abarth 595, years ago now, on a hilly handling circuit, I flippantly described it as a shopping trolley with a wonky wheel and a rocket stuck on the back.
Neglecting to mention a driving seat that felt like a toddler’s high chair and a gearlever positioning that made shifting feel like stirring my dinner around a saucepan. I wasn’t a fan, basically.
Its electric successor, the Abarth 500e, turned out to be not dissimilar when I took it to the South Downs one night recently. Except now the rocket is of the Soyuz variety and the gearlever has been replaced by a storage tray, quite necessarily rubberised.
This new, heated-up Fiat 500 feels flatter and heavier in a way that its ride ruined asphalt and shifts its mass about, but no less loco – actually, even more so.
The short of it is that rather than feeling in control, revelling in pinging from corner to corner, I felt like I was clinging on for dear life. Not fun. One lap of my usual playground and I called it quits. And no, I don’t think all EVs aren’t fun – just most of them. I absolutely loved touring rural Scotland in an MG Cyberster.
Anyway. I’d already struggled with the 500e on my drive home from the office. It’s a distance of only 70 miles (admittedly all on motorways and A-roads), but having left with 80% charge, it was soon limiting features and flashing a red icon. So a return journey to work and a few local errands would require two charging sessions if I wasn’t to leave regular custodian Felix Page in the lurch. Eesh.
It had taken me all of five minutes in the car to realise I wasn’t going to escape constant attention, not with that Acid Green paint (and clearly Abarth realises this too, hence the colours Antidote White!), when I received a gleeful sideways look from a young woman driving one of the oldest bescorpioned 500s.
Meanwhile, everyone who had the chance commented on their seared retinas, mostly of the “erm, that’s quite a colour, isn’t it?” variety.
This happened when I ran (and incidentally adored) a Mini Cooper Convertible in similarly loud Zesty Yellow a few years ago – although things seem to have since moved on somewhat, as I discovered during the Pride festivities in Brighton.
The big new thing in pop culture is ‘brat’, meaning an attitude of fun recklessness. It’s taken from the title of the new album by pop star Charli XCX, the sleeve of which is a luminous green, so on several occasions I heard loud exclamations of ‘brat!’ as I passed crowds.
I found accidentally being so on-theme really quite fun – and I enjoyed the album itself – even when I had to turn down the stereo, having assumed it had been recorded at the bottom of a swamp when first listening to it in my own Dacia Sandero Stepway.
In fact, almost everything about the 500e’s interior pleased me, particularly when I thought back to the shiny tackiness of the old 595. The same is true of the two Fiat donor cars, of course. It looks so much more grown-up, the touchscreen infotainment system works flawlessly and the Alcantara on the dashboard, steering wheel and (supportive and comfortable) patterned bucket seats makes it feel like a legit hot hatch.
I would complain about the ridiculously compact rear seats, but that would be like complaining about rubbish sound quality in one of Britain’s cheapest new cars (oops), so I will limit it to bemoaning the lack of door handles.
I can’t think why Fiat felt the need to make this change. A blind friend of mine exits my cars by feeling around for a handle, and if I hadn’t guided her hand to the little circular button on the windowsill, I think she might have still been stuck inside what I had described to her as “a tennis ball with wheels” even now.
Love it
Cute and silly
I may not enjoy its dynamics, but I love this car’s unusual look and the sense of fun that it exudes.
Loathe it
Synth rumble
It’s meant to sound cool, but people literally laugh at you mockingly. It’s like a PlayStation 2 game’s rendition of an engine stuck at idle. Truly dreadful.
Mileage: 6240
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Screwing up the tyres – 24 July
I woke up to a totally flat nearside rear, so I had the rare opportunity to try out a factory-supplied electric pump – a sorely under-appreciated innovation (if a touch loud for 6.30am). That got me as far as my local ATS, where the situation was speedily resolved when the tyre was deemed repairable, the offending screw whipped out and the hole patched in less than five minutes.
Mileage: 5267
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Hot hatch’s precious electrons should be enjoyed, not eked out – 17 July
You can always tell how far a long-term test car has burrowed under your skin if you spend some time apart from it – you will always either dread being reunited or greet it warmly, like an old mate.
Whoops. I’ve committed the cardinal sin of anthropomorphism there, but look at it – how could you not? Anyway, the point is that I was recently deprived of the flying bogey for a couple of weeks and couldn’t wait to get back in it.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, of course, but then so does a fraught few minutes spent cramming a 5.1-metre-long Land Rover Defender into a space at my local supermarket.
Now we’re back together, I’ve been struck with a new-found appreciation for the electric Abarth’s zip, verve and malleability, to the extent that I’ve all but entirely stopped caring about its lack of stamina.
It doesn’t go very far on a charge (I’m seeing around 140 miles) and doesn’t charge particularly quickly (the official maximum speed is 80kW), but I’ve adapted my driving habits to account for those shortcomings, and I can’t remember the last time I was caught short.
The advantage of a small battery, of course, is that it doesn’t need to be plugged in as long and it’s easier to top it up on an ad hoc basis, rather than intensively planning each route and recharge.
I took it from 20-100% on the 7kW chargers at the office while I sat through a few meetings last week, and I filled it from nearly empty on a BP fast charger near my house at the weekend while I wheezed my way round my usual 30-minute running loop. What was that about a lack of stamina?
Crucially, though, learning to work around the 500’s weaknesses means I’ve gained the confidence to drive with a bit more joie de vivre.
It spends more time in full-power Track mode now than range-saving Turismo (with the added benefit that this deactivates the infuriatingly hyperactive regenerative braking), and I frequently look for the twistiest, rather than quickest, route to my destination.
My thinking is: if it’s a day ending in ‘y’, the battery will need charging soon anyway, so I might as well have a bit of fun getting rid of the electrons that are in it.
I will confess, though, to being slightly miffed at the cruising energy consumption of 4.0mpkWh that I’ve achieved over the past few months. It’s impressive in the grand scheme of things – let’s call it the equivalent of 50mpg – but for a tiny, relatively light single-motor EV, I might expect to comfortably crack 5.0mpkWh on a regular basis. For context, I fairly often saw the high side of 4.5mpkWh in the comparatively humongous Volkswagen ID Buzz I ran previously (although I did spend more time in stop-start traffic).
Let’s see if some warmer weather provides a tangible boost in range over the coming weeks. We’re already up to a 4.2mpkWh average, and I’m keen to see if I can get anywhere near 200 miles off a charge.
Love it
Can’t miss me A deep clean has made the 500e look properly new and exciting again. You can tell by the attention it’s getting.
Loathe it
Fetch me a stick The gear selector buttons still feel like an odd choice – less convenient than a conventional gearstick and made of cheap-feeling plastic. They let the interior down.
Mileage: 5325
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It’s not the most practical… – 26 June
Good news: I now live near Ikea. Bad news: I now live near Ikea. It actually doesn’t matter that I can practically smell the meatballs from my garden, though, because you can bet your Billy bookcase that I’m not fitting any flat-pack fripperies in the Abarth. A largely fruitless visit last week netted a cutlery tray, a squeegee, a bowl and some cinnamon rolls – but with the charge cables and some washer fluid already in the boot, I couldn’t have bought much more.
Mileage: 4490
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Urban pocket rocket? B-road blaster? Actually, it’s neither – 5 June
An industry colleague who attended the launch of the 500e last year told one of Abarth’s engineers how poor the car’s low-speed manoeuvrability and refinement was, and he was consequently reassured that these issues would be fixed for production. I don’t think they were.
Something so tightly packaged and city-centric should be a doddle to manage in congested areas and to park with abandon in cramped spaces, but I drove a new Ford Transit Custom van home recently and can quite honestly say I found it easier to parallel park.
It’s not that Abarth’s little hot hatch is particularly cumbersome or unwieldy — quite the opposite. Its short overhangs, excellent all-round visibility and tight turning circle are all welcome qualities in the context of too-narrow roadways and 1960s-era multi-stores.
But its counterintuitive, clunky behaviour at low speed is so aggravating as to properly stress me out in certain settings.
There’s a certain irony here that you can’t fail to acknowledge: the 500e’s piddly 42kWh battery and tiny cabin mean it’s categorically not a long-distance cruiser, but its frustratingly jerky and brittle low-speed behaviour also raises questions about its in-town utility.
So where is it best enjoyed? Well, I spent some time out in the barren, rugged wilds of the British countryside recently (somewhere between junctions five and six of the M25), and I reckon I came pretty close to finding the 500e’s comfort zone.
Its narrow body and compact footprint made it far easier to enjoy on tight, twisting lanes than many a bona fide sports car — even full-sized hot hatches — but at low enough average speeds that it can still return fairly decent efficiency.
Plus, because I hadn’t used much battery charge getting there from my place in London, I could cut loose without worrying too much about finding a charger.
I had been hoping to put the 500e through its paces on some of the excellent roads around Goodwood a couple of weeks previously, but having used 40% of its battery charge getting down there, I was for once actually pretty glad to sit behind a tractor and trundle along for a few miles at 30mph.
The biggest problem is the lack of graduation in throttle and brake pedal inputs in stop-start situations, like heavy traffic and car parks. The throttle is like an on/off switch from standstill, even in economy-focused Turismo driving mode, and the brake is like an anchor.
This not only makes for frustratingly jerky manoeuvres that cause my passengers to feel queasy but also makes it extremely difficult to edge right up against walls and other cars. Rather than risk denting a bumper, I usually end up leaving a huge gap ahead of me in jams and taking up about as much of each parking space as, say, a Range Rover Evoque — which rather defeats the point.
The 500e also rides slightly too firmly to ever really cement itself as a no-hassle urban prover. I wouldn’t go so far as to use the words ‘uncompromising’ or ‘harsh’, but it’s tangibly harder on your coccyx than the thicker-sidewalled, spongier Fiat 500 on which it is based.
A snarl-up on the main road home the other day sent me down a few miles of residential rat runs, each generously furnished by steep-sided speed bumps that the 500e couldn’t comfortably clear at any more than about 10mph.
Love it
Parking aids
I shouldn’t need them in something this small, but with such abrupt low-speed control responses, I’m grateful for the help.
Loathe it
Electronic handbrake
It’s slow to release when moving off and does so with a noticeable creak. Which is embarrassing if there’s a crowd.
Mileage: 4420
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Compact Abarth fits into the smallest of spaces – 8 May
A long, hot walk at Boxhill recently had me gasping for a burger and a drink. Annoyingly, everyone had the same idea, so the tight track up the side of our chosen pub was snarled up with Surrey-spec SUVs when we arrived, none of which could park in the slim space available. No such problem for our Abarth, which scampered nimbly around them and slipped in next to the wall with plenty of room to spare.
Mileage: 3470
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Welcoming the Abarth to the fleet
Cliché though it is to report on the experience of moving house with a long-term test car, I can’t really neglect to highlight the irony of this diminutive supermini replacing the comparatively quite humongous Volkswagen ID Buzz outside my place of residence, just a couple of weeks before I’m due to vacate the premises.
Come moving day, had I still had the VW on hand, I would have removed the Buzz’s false boot floor, opened the massive tailgate and twin sliding doors, folded the rear seats flat and had enough space for around half of the contents of the flat (or at least most of my partner’s wardrobe).
No van rental, no tears over smashed plant pots and crumpled paintings and no need for more than two or three shuttle runs between new pad and old.
Things might not be so simple with the two-door, tiny-booted Abarth 500e. A spot of quick maths reveals it to be one of the smallest full-sized electric cars you can currently buy in the UK. I might ask if the flat’s next occupants fancy keeping our dining table.
Let’s look on the bright side, though (and I’m not talking about the Acid Green paintwork). The Abarth’s compact proportions have already proven to be much better suited to city life: it fits into my tiny parking space with ample room either side, it can nip into tight gaps in traffic so I rarely miss a green light and it makes light work of the high-kerbed helter skelter coming out of Heathrow’s Terminal 5 short-stay car park.
Keen urban drivers have long had to confront a tricky dilemma when buying a car: do you want something that moves with relaxing frugality through cramped, congested city streets, or something brawnier, firmer and less practical but which comes into its own once you’ve vaulted the ring road and found some twistier and more enticing asphalt?
Rarely are you able to have it both ways. Until now, perhaps. Lay off the loud pedal (literally, in this case) and the hot 500e is a fairly sensible commuter, down to the surprisingly generously damped suspension and Savoy hotel-friendly turning circle. But having driven it on the North York Moors a few months back, I know its a giggle on a good road, too.
The tricky bit, though, will be reaching those good roads in the first place, because just getting clear of the M25 takes about 15% of the compact, 42kWh battery. So by the time I’ve nursed it to the start of one of my favourite test routes in, say, Oxfordshire or Sussex, it’s time to plug in – and the Abarth doesn’t top up its battery fast enough to make that a trivial concern. I feel a shift in mindset coming on.
Trivialities such as range and practicality aside, you might have already made up your mind about the 500e, and especially so if you’ve heard the artificial sound generator under the boot, from where it emits a synthesised version of the petrol-powered Abarth 595’s exhaust note in a bid to heighten the sensory satisfaction.
I’ll deal with it now and try not to mention it again: some think it’s fun if only for a minute or two, while others have branded it grating, unnecessary or just pure naff. I’m largely indifferent; I don’t think the 595 has an especially enticing soundtrack anyway, so it’s no real heartache to go without in its electric replacement.
Anyway, once your neighbours know you can make your car either very loud or very quiet at the press of a button, it becomes rather embarrassing to be heard willingly rumbling and ‘revving’ your way out of the cul de sac, and the unremitting drone that accompanies a 70mph cruise is nigh-on unbearable. The upshot is that I turned it off within seconds of taking delivery, and it won’t see much action on my watch.
But I’m already questioning if Abarth needed to stoop to such superficialities in its pursuit of character and whimsy. Look at this thing: it may be tiny, but it’s about as shy and retiring as Kanye West.
There’s no danger of losing it in a supermarket car park among a sea of greys, and I’ve already twisted more necks driving it down the high street than I have with any mega-powered sports car.
Let’s not forget this is the performance version of what is already a fun little car. One question I seek to answer over the coming months will be whether the Abarth’s er hanced agility and more generousseserves merit the lofty premium it commands over the Fiat-badged donor car, in which I’ve previously covered some very enjoyable miles.
Oh, and about that premium. The car you’re looking at – with its relatively spartan interior, 185-litre boot, 130-mile real-world range, 85kW maximum charging speed and largely decorative back seats – costs £38,795. Don’t write in – that’s not a misprint. Jaw off the floor yet? Good.
Let’s crack on and see if it comes anywhere close to justifying price parity with a speccy Ford Focus ST, and whether the fun factor can outweigh the inevitable frustrations wrought by its limitations.
Second Opinion
I quite like the Abarth 500e – I can see it blending into life easily as a runabout that still brightens up B-roads. As an electric hot hatch, though, it lacks a bit of exuberance – and no, the sound generator doesn’t count. I’d be curious about a comparison with the base Fiat to see how much the scorpion badge is really worth.
Illya Verpraet
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Specs: Price New £38,195 Price as tested £38,795 Options Acid Green paint £600
Test Data: Engine 1x permanent magnet synchronous motor Power 152bhp Torque 173lb ft Kerb weight 1410kg Top speed 96mph 0-62mph 7.0sec Fuel economy 3.4mpkWh CO2 0g/km Faults None Expenses None
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Source: Autocar RSS Feed
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