Jonathan Gitlin

Wes Duenkel

Jonathan Gitlin

Wes Duenkel

Jonathan Gitlin

Wes Duenkel

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

NASHVILLE, Tenn.—Our automotive coverage at Ars Technica is—as one might expect—focused heavily on new technologies like autonomous cars and alternative powertrains. These fields of research and development have the potential to save lives (by reducing accidents) and the planet (through decreased carbon emissions). But a recent visit to the Lane Motor Museum in Nashville involved a trip outside this comfort zone, back in time to the era of the microcar. These little vehicles were a product of their environments: postwar Europe and Japan, where raw materials like steel, rubber, and fuel were in short supply, and when drivers had much less disposable income to spend.

The vehicles that emerged over the subsequent decades were certainly a step up from motorized scooters, although, in some cases, not by a very large margin. But a day spent hopping in and out of different makes and models—driving them on the museum grounds, on the public road, and at Fairgrounds Nashville Speedway—was both informative and wonderfully refreshing compared to our normal diet of driving brand-new cars.

Compared to the relatively homogenous automotive offerings of today, the museum's microcars featured a wide variety of different propulsion—two- and four-stroke internal combustion engines, electric powertrains, and even the odd pedal-assisted machine. They also had an almost bewildering mix of transmissions, including some that you steered with a tiller or handlebars rather than a steering wheel. Likewise, the driving experiences were also varied: some were a hoot to drive, whereas others were more than a little terrifying to those used to a diet of modern machinery.

On the museum grounds

Take the Peel Trident. Built in 1965, this little red fiberglass machine looks like a refugee from a '60s sci-fi movie. No doors here; rather, the bubble canopy and surround folds forward. You just step in, lower the top, and go. As you might well imagine, on a very hot, late-spring day, the Trident was a total sweatbox. Powered by a 50cc DKW air-cooled two-cylinder engine, the Trident maxes out at about 30mph—a speed that feels more than fast enough from behind the wheel.

Or how about the 1978 SEAB Flipper I? Along with many of the vehicles we tried out, it's a French creation, the result of that country's Voitures sans permis regulations that let anyone drive such vehicles, even if they had no driver's license. Its 47cc Sachs Adlx two-stroke engine sits between the two tiny front wheels, rotating with them. The Flipper has a two-speed transmission, but no reverse gear—to drive backwards you simply rotate the steering wheel until the tires are at 180-degrees to before. Of course, that means always remembering to unwind that steering lock in the same direction ...

Taking to the road

Perhaps wisely, we were allocated some of the more substantial microcars for the job of driving from the museum to the half-mile oval of Fairgrounds Nashville Speedway. My rides? A 1966 Subaru 360 Van and 1963 Fiat Multipla. While on the large-side compared to some of the other microcars on offer, both were still eye-opening to drive on the road, being dwarfed by "regular" cars, never mind compared to the heavy-duty trucks that wanted to give no quarter on Murfreesboro Pike. (I'm not sure some of those big trucks would even have noticed had they plowed straight over me.)



Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Of the two, the Fiat was by far the more resolved vehicle, and it drove more or less like any manual transmission car you might experience today. A particularly neat feature was the middle row of seats, which could be folded completely flat. But its basic nature was still on display with bits like the windscreen washer fluid reservoir—a plastic bag that lived near your left knee—and the spare tire, which was mounted to the front bulkhead in front of the passenger.

The Subaru was an example of Japan's kei car regulations, still in effect today. Originally, kei cars had engines of just 150cc; in 1955, this was increased to 360cc (hence the Subaru's name), until 1990 when it was bumped to 660cc. Plenty of Japanese OEMs still build kei cars for their domestic market today, and you'll see some modern ones in the gallery above. Unlike many of the microcars, the Subaru 360 was actually sold in the US, until Ralph Nader set his sights on it.

You want me to drive that, on an oval?

Jonathan Gitlin

Wes Duenkel

Rich Ruth

Wes Duenkel

Rich Ruth

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

Jonathan Gitlin

After safely arriving at the speedway—built in 1904 and now probably the oldest continually operated racetrack in the country—it was time to try out more of the microcar marvels. The best cars at lapping the half-mile, 18-degree banking were almost certainly the Subaru 360 FasTrack II (a Subaru 360 chassis with a sporty-looking yellow fiberglass body) and the 1958 Vespa 400. The latter, from a company most of us associate with scooters, was a joy to drive. I enjoyed its light-but-precise steering and peppy 14hp thanks to a 393cc two-stroke engine.

Others were more of a handful. The 1957 Messerschmitt (yes, that Messerschmitt) KR200, for example. This was a three-wheeler, steered via handlebars. Even driving in a straight line was more than the little KR200 was capable of, as it wandered precariously at a speed that couldn't have been much more than 30mph. Equally scary was the 1980 Ligier JS4. Ligier was a French Formula 1 team, and this particular JS4 was used as a pit vehicle for the race team. With an almost-square footprint and extremely quick steering, its 50cc Motobécane engine and sequential gearbox transmitted every vibration through to the driver as we lapped the oval. Later on, it proved a much more entertaining vehicle to drag race.

As well as getting to lap some of the microcars on the oval track, the people at the Lane also organized a gymkhana that pitted the various journalists against each other for the honor of our publications.

We used a Heinkel Kabine three-wheeler. The test involved negotiating a coned-off course, stopping at various waypoints to assemble a guitar, fill a tin of peppermint canes, and also toss some rubber cars through a goal. You will be pleased to learn that I did Ars proud, finishing in second place—a mere 30 seconds down on the overall victor, a man from Motor Trend.

Jeff Lane has put together what may be the most eclectic public collection of vehicles on display in the country; in addition to all the microcars and those Group B machines we wrote about, he also has an amazing collection of rear-engined Tatra sedans, French hatchbacks, and even some massive military equipment. If you're ever in Nashville, make sure to check his museum out.

Listing image by Wes Duenkel