I can think of a few good reasons why a man should know how to smoke cigarettes. Now, I’m not a smoker myself and I certainly don’t advocate it for anyone else. I’ve seen its deadly effects up close. But just knowing how to handle a cigarette can bring you a certain style, flair, distinction and panache that you just can’t obtain any other way.
The same goes for driving a small car. I’m not talking about a little two-seat sports car, either. I mean a plain ol’, tucked and tidy economy car. Behind the wheel of a nifty squirt like the Ford Fiesta, you can zip about with a playful ease and a spirited vigor that only a personally sized, spritefully maneuverable auto can provide.
In the case of the Fiesta – which just so happens to be the world’s most popular model in the subcompact class of cars – Ford puts that youthful zest in a package that looks the part perfectly. Fiesta appears to lean forward with an eager energy. Its top is rakishly slanted. Its front roundly tapers like the nose of a roving shark.
Then there’s you, the driver, prominent inside the Fiesta because the car is so small you can wear it like a summer straw fedora or a favorite pair of aviator sunglasses.
It makes you want to bob and strut, the way I did last week while driving a pearly white Fiesta I evaluated last week.
During one quick trip, my fearless and feisty mutt filled the front passenger seat beside me. I wanted to leave her in some shade while I ran into a small shop, but at noontime the only patch of cover came from an overhanging limb on an outside margin of the parking lot. The shadow was too small for me to head the car into. Instead I ran the willing little Fiesta parallel to the parking-lot border, then pitched it into a rapid, narrow-arc turn of 180 degrees to plant it squarely beneath the smear of shade. Climbing out, I felt nicely bedazzled by the squibbing sound from the tires as they’d chewed through the tight, instant turn.