That Spada has kept the prototype all these
years speaks volumes. He clearly retains great affection for the car and it
isn’t difficult to see why. It’s an incredibly characterful design, the name
Zanzara – Italian for mosquito – being particularly apt thanks to its pointed
nose and those oversized lights. And just to leave you in no doubt as to the
source of its blood-sucking inspiration, there’s a neatly realized cartoon logo
of a mosquito on both sides of the engine cover.
It’s
an incredibly characterful design
Photos really don’t lend a sense of scale
here. The Zanzara is minuscule, with the top of the windscreen barely reaching
waist level. The front and rear body sections flip up for ease of access to the
running gear, while the 499cc twin is completely standard. Same too for the
Fiat 500 suspension (transverse leaf spring up front, coil springs rear). The
attractive alloys are period-fit Borranis.
Inside, it’s equally simple. In order to
clamber aboard, it’s advisable to grab the central strut of the integral roll
cage with your right hand and place your left hand on the A-pillar before
stepping over the shallow sill and shuffling into position. It’s a tight fit,
that’s for sure, and once in situ you do feel as if you’re almost wearing the
car. It’s comfortable, though, even if the pedals are closely coupled. There is
little in the way of fixtures and fittings, instrumentation merely running to a
speedometer that reads to 120kph (75mph), oil pressure and petrol gauges plus a
light sprinkling of switchgear, an ashtray, a glove compartment and assorted
grab-handles.
The view from inside only heightens the
sense of fun. You can almost touch the back of the headlight; you can touch
tarmac because you sit only a few inches off the deck. Once fired up, the
little two-banger parps and spits like a regular 500 at idle. It sounds buzzy,
frantic even, which is in keeping with its namesake. You’re left grinning from
ear to ear even while stationary.
Inside,
it’s equally simple.
The Zanzara has covered 19,000km from new,
Spada enjoying the car on winding roads near his home in the hills above Turin
– the perfect environment for such a machine. “It weighs about 80kg less than a
500,” its creator says. “It also has a lower center of gravity.” All of which
is immediately obvious on a particularly twisty downhill section. The
ring-a-ding-ding clamor out back allied to the rush of air swirling around the
cockpit leaves you feeling as though you’re travelling at impossibly high
speeds even at walking pace but, as Spada astutely points out, the best bit is
that “you don’t have to slow down for corners”. As with a regular 500, it’s all
about momentum, the steering writhing a little through the wheel, the
four-speed ’box requiring you to double-declutch even though it (allegedly) has
synchromesh. What you don’t expect is how rapidly it changes direction. The
Zanzara never feels anything other than sure-footed, yet it’s all too easy to
lock up should you brake suddenly.
As
with a regular 500, it’s all about momentum, the steering writhing a little
through the wheel
With Spada at the wheel, the Zanzara
positively zings around testing switchbacks; to the point that the camera car
becomes a distant spec in the rear-view mirror, but all too soon it’s time to
end play. What you derive from even the briefest of sorties is a sense of
wasted opportunity. In no way is this sophisticated vehicle, but it is a clever
one because so much was borrowed from the donor Fiat without modification.
You could argue that the Zanzara was a bit
too barking for mainstream acceptance. It emerged during the period that gave
us the beach buggy and the Bond Bug, however, both of which were hits with the
hip and the groovy. So it isn’t too great a stretch of the imagination to
picture the Zanzara catching on with younger drivers had it reached production,
and enjoying a similar cult like legacy. And just imagine a swarm of them in
searing highlighter-pen hues packing tasty Abarth or Giannini tuning gear.
You
could argue that the Zanzara was a bit too barking for mainstream acceptance.
But it didn’t get that far. Instead, the
mosquito made like the mayfly, becoming just another curio from a time not
exactly lacking in lost causes. And Mr. Spada isn’t about to sell his pride and
joy any time soon, but it didn’t hurt to ask.
