There’s nothing quite like diversity, eh? It does tend to sweeten the pot, and make a potentially mundane field of daisies (like economy cars) much more interesting. I like outside of the box thinking, even when it goes across the street, into the neighbors shed and into that box of old golf magazines that’s been there of decades. I think that’s what the makers of smart cars (yes, they deliberately keep themselves lower case) have done, because when I first fired up a passion cabriolet and headed out into the world of larger cars, I was reminded of an ancient Harley-Davidson golf cart I once guided around a golf course in Plano, Texas, many, many years ago. It was the sound of the engine and the similar size of the two vehicles I think that took me down memory lane, although the golf cart had more cargo room (but it was always exposed, unlike the smart).

Once you get used to the fact that this car is so small, though, you get used to driving it like a regular compact and most of the golf cart comparisons disappear. Not all of them, though. They are both rear wheel drive, which is kinda cool, and both have wickedly tight turning radii, which is likewise desirable. I have no idea what kind of engine the Harley cart had, and to be honest it was the first and last golf cart I ever used that wasn’t electric. But I do know what propels the smart, as it was a couple of feet behind me below the cargo floor. Open an access hatch and you’ll find a modest little wheezer of a mill, a 999cc Inline Triple with a whopping (claimed) 70 horsepower. Oh, lest you think we’re talking a gas-powered sewing machine here, there is 68 lb-ft. of lovely torque, which unlike the horsepower figure is better than the claimed output of my Triumph 675 Street Triple (107 horsepower, 51 lb-ft. of torque). Makes you think, though. Either this 1,800 lb. car is a tad on the weak side, or my Triumph is all-powerful. You decide.

But wait: in order to make a sound judgement you must drive the smart, and while it’s almost small enough to email it to you, I can’t, so you’ll just have to trust on my impressions. 0-60 arrives in a leisurely 12 to 13 seconds, and (amazingly) the real reason this vehicle falls far short of achieving escape velocity is not the bitsy box of pistons out back but the transmission. Smart (sorry, smart) calls this gearbox a smartshift Transmission, and it’s basically a 5-speed automatic with a difference. The difference is, there’s huge gaps between shifts that makes you think a rather foul, decrepit house elf (think Kreacher, from the House of Black) is doing the shifting and his wee legs have trouble reaching the clutch pedal. It’s really rather bizarre, and a major flaw in what otherwise would be an acceptable (albeit underpowered) drive train. A surprisingly thing is this little egg can whiz down the road (dare I say it?) rather smartly at 70 MPH, and seems stable enough unless it gets really windy. It’s a ball to throw around on a tight road, the suspension soaks up bumps surprisingly well and its tridion safety cage should keep you as safe as is possible in a crash. It would probably bounce off of anything that it hit like a beach ball, and has very high crash safety ratings. The cabriolet’s convertible top works well, and can be deployed and retracted on the move. Oh, and you can park this thing pretty much anywhere, as it really doesn’t have a footprint much larger than a lawn tractor.

But, it must be said it doesn’t have the chops in the fuel efficiency department, which is very surprising as you would think that’s what it’s for after all. I only got about 35 MPG, which means a Prius not only destroys it at the drag strip but the fuel pump as well. This might be OK if you could by a brace of smarts for the price of a lone Prius, but our tester (nicely equipped, but no cruise control, spare tire or tilt wheel) was stickered out at $21,590. That’s a lot of tee times, chum. But, in this rather wild little two-door’s defense I will say in over a decade of driving Other People’s Cars nothing, even some pretty exotic stuff, has ever landed the kind of attention this funky little buglet does. Some laugh at it, some laugh with it, but it brings a smile to the masses like few things I’ve ever negotiated through a crowded Sear parking lot. They may not make it worth the asking price, but it does say something about being different. Now, if they’d only sell an electric version with decent range. . .