The Evolution of the Smart Car

If the brand name conjures notions of tiny urban two-seat runabouts, think again. The erstwhile ultimate city car has grown in almost every way – as well as gone fully electric.

In a recent Financial Times article, the paper’s Paris-based correspondent Simon Kuper argued that the future of urban transport won’t be the self-driving electric car, which he says costs far more than combustion vehicles and as a result will be too costly to stand up to the rigours (and, doubtless, bodywork bumps) encountered on city streets. “My bet,” he wrote, “is that, in cities, at least, the e-car won’t be the vehicle of the future. I suspect it will keep falling further behind e-bikes, e-mopeds and e-scooters.”

In a European context, where local authorities are increasingly restricting car use and aggressively promoting public transport and bicycle lanes, he might well be right. But in the mushrooming urban agglomerations of tropical Asia where, day-after-day, temperatures can reach at least 35 degrees while humidity levels disappear off the scale, are the affluent middle classes really about to abandon their cherished automobiles any time soon? I’m not putting money on it. Nonetheless, Kuper did get me thinking about what the most bike-like city car might be, and the name Smart instantly came to mind – not that I’ve ever driven (or even sat in) one. Which, as a writer about cars, was something I just as quickly decided had to be changed.

Smart, you may remember, is the motor company founded 30 years in a joint-venture between Mercedes and, of all partners, the Swiss watch company now known as the Swatch Group (the name is a combination of the two brands’ initials plus “art”, though you’ll struggle hard to find much evidence of the latter in any of its products). Its first model, a tiny two-seater with a three-cylinder Petrol engine, eventually rolled off the production line in late 1998, by which time Swatch had departed and Mercedes was the brand’s sole owner. At just 2.5 metres long, the car not only looked cute, but also seemed ideal for cities – not that the general public seemed to think so, because Smarts never exactly flew out of the showroom, despite the later additions to the line-up of Roadster and four-seat (Forfour) versions. In fact, so under-the-radar has the brand been in this part of the world that, aside from the very occasional sighting of a Smart about town, for years I’ve had little clue as to what it was up to at all – until, that is, a few weeks ago. And, now I’ve made the effort, it turns out that Smart has been rather busy – so busy, in fact, that it’s effectively a different company.

Like its predecessor, the re-invented Smart is a joint venture, but this time between Germany’s Mercedes and China’s Geely, both of which own a 50 percent stake, with production now switched to a new factory in Xi’an. Built on an entirely Geely-developed electric platform, the first fruits of that partnership – it’s dubbed Smart #1 (a name that, in case you were wondering, we’re supposed to pronounce “Hashtag One”, as if we were still rocking around 2010 and Instagram was a cool new thing) – was unveiled in 2022. Yet aside from the name, the badge and the fact there’s a wheel at each corner, the #1 resembles earlier Smarts not a single iota. Whereas the tiny Fortwo, as it came to be known, was so short it could easily be parked at right angles to a kerb, this latest model is almost twice as long, has plenty of room for four passengers and is best described as a compact SUV crossover. So much for the bike comparisons.

I’ve been lent a flagship Brabus version of the #1 with dual motors and upgraded exterior and interior, which in spite of its size still contrives to look cute in a way that reminds me of BMW’s Mini (another car whose resemblance to the original requires an imaginative leap), rather as if it’s an oversized toy. That playful impression is heighted by the test car’s jolly Cyber Silver Metallic and Radiant Red paintwork – in other words, a sort of reverse Hong Kong taxi in appearance – which is paired with oversized alloy wheels through which can be glimpsed the obligatory red brake calipers. As for the powertrain, the Brabus gets an additional 154bhp motor at the front axle, which when combined with the rear unit fitted to less potent #1s endows it with 422 horses and 544Nm. As all of those numbers are available instantly, they provide a claimed 0-100km/h time of less than four seconds, a mind-boggling time that’s even faster than a standard Porsche 911 Carrera.

With straight-line performance as frankly bonkers as that, the Brabus #1 is clearly unlike any Smart you may have encountered previously, but in spite of the fact that twin motors also mean all-wheel-drive traction, that doesn’t translate into any great dynamic flair. Although it’s fine – and actually hugely enjoyable – when being punted through city streets, the car feels both soft and heavy when pushed along more testing stretches of tarmac, which does inhibit a fuller exploration of the powertrain’s considerable potential. On the other hand, the suspension damping does a decent job of ironing out the bumps, while range from the 66kWh battery is a claimed 400km, which could get you up to a week’s in-town driving on a single charge and isn’t too shabby at all.

If the #1’s underpinnings are 100 percent Geely, I’m assuming the exterior and interior styling are the work of a team at Mercedes – and that’s no bad thing, as the folks in Stuttgart have been on top of such areas for years now. In fact, the cabin is one of the best things about the Smart, with an overall design that’s minimal, clean and crisp, electrically adjustable seats in front (with those in the back offering surprisingly decent leg room), and excellent displays including head-up, thoughtful ergonomics and great all-round visibility. The Brabus’s Alcantara- wrapped steering wheel and contrasting red seatbelts provide suitably sporty accents to the interior, while a glass panel extending almost the entire length of the roof floods the interior with light. Just as important in hot and sticky climates such as ours, there’s even dual-zone airconditioning to keep the place habitable – and here I should also give a shout out to the Beats sound system, whose inclusion is perfectly aligned with the Smart’s funky orientation.

Storage space is a little more compromised: though there’s a seat-back hatch suitable for Golf clubs, room in the boot with both rear chairs in place remains limited. That, however, shouldn’t dent the car’s appeal for urban use, for which it’s eminently well suited, with a 360-degree camera that makes manoeuvring a breeze standard on premium versions, and a powered tailgate with gesture control.

As much of this kit is standard on the less-powerful #1 Premium model, whose single rear-mounted motor provides 268bhp and is still good for a 0-100km/h dash in the perfectly respectable time of 6.7 seconds, I’d suggest eschewing the extra grunt of the Brabus and opting for that instead, if only because the flagship model has far more power than its chassis knows what to do with. But that really is my only major criticism.

Otherwise, I find myself strangely enamoured of this cute and characterful offspring of Chinese and German parentage. It’s not a Smart as we’ve known it and it certainly isn’t a bicycle, but it is spacious and practical, easy to live with and surprisingly fun to drive. That it’s also considerably more engaging than I ever imagined is for me the absolute clincher.