They come in Bubble, Kei and Quadricycle forms amongst others, but whatever you call a microcar, there’s no doubt that they’re on the way back.

And I for one am delighted!

But why now? How did this curious type of car come to be in the first place? And what does the future hold for them?

Well read on and we’ll do our best to answer.

Necessity and Invention

It begins at the end of World War II, with the fall of Fascism and the rise of Communism. For it was amongst the ashes of a humiliated Japan and a reeling Europe that fertile ground was created, and the seeds of the microcar were sown.

Though some of these seeds were planted even earlier, as far back as 1934, with a survey launched by the new owners of Citroën, Michelin, to examine the French population and understand what mattered most to them in a motor car.

A largely rural, poor population, the majority of whom were employed within agriculture, they wanted something compact, durable, affordable, yet usable every day. And that’s how the 2CV came to be born.

I know what you’re thinking; the Citroën 2CV is in no means a microcar. Well…

The 2CV (which stands for 2 Chevaux, or 2 horses, meaning two taxable horsepower, a taxable automotive category in France) started life as a TPV (Toute Petite Voiture – “Very Small Car”) to be developed in secrecy at Michelin facilities at Clermont-Ferrand and at Citroën in Paris, by the design team who had created the Traction Avant.

So by its very definition, and the scope of the project, it was to be precisely what has embodied microcars (sometimes called minicars) from the very beginning.

After being shelved due to a certain world war, it was eventually released in 1948. With France’s infrastructure on its proverbial knees, the “Tin Snail”‘s oddities were its strengths.

The air-cooled, two-cylinder engine, barely bigger than a toaster, sipped fuel like a hummingbird. The independent suspension, with its long, vertical travel, absorbed bumps like a magic carpet, making it as comfortable on a dirt path as on a cobblestone street. The canvas roof, easily rolled back for a dose of open-air freedom, further solidified its image as a car for the people, not just the elite.

The 2CV wasn’t just utilitarian, it was a lifestyle. It became a symbol of French joie de vivre, carrying families on picnics, farmers to markets, and students on adventures. Its quirky character—the bouncing ride, the wind-whipped hair under the open roof—made it a canvas for customization, adorned with flower power murals, protest slogans, and even makeshift hammocks.

Poverty and Mobility

In the following years, particularly from 1955 onwards, the principles of the 2CV were taken to unimaginable levels. Swathes of Europe were even poorer than prior to the war and the continent’s infrastructure was crippled. Fuel shortages were rife, so the need for cheap, efficient transportation only grew.

Governments, eager to revive their economies, encouraged the development of small, affordable vehicles. Thus, the microcar was born, with its engine size capped and dimensions restricted, becoming a symbol of hope on wheels. Many microcars were re-bodied scooters and motorbikes.

The pioneers in this new realm were diverse. In Britain, the utilitarian Isetta bubbled onto the scene, its egg-shaped body maximizing space and minimizing cost.

With Iso Rivolta, an Italian fridge maker grappling with a slump in sales, and BMW, restricted by the Occupation Statute, the Isetta was as successful as it was unlikely. Seeking diversification, Rivolta had designed the Isetta to fit onto a scooter platform, but as their expertise lay in cooling, not combustion, they’d approached BMW.

BMW, eager to broaden its market reach, saw the Isetta’s potential. They tweaked the design, replacing the two-stroke scooter engine with a more reliable 250cc motorcycle engine from their R25 motorbike. This gave the Isetta a sprightly top speed of 85 km/h and fuel efficiency that dwarfed larger cars, averaging a frugal 3.6 liters per 100 kilometers.

But it wasn’t just the specs that captivated hearts. The Isetta oozed charm. Its egg-shaped body, with its bubble windows and front-door entry (like a refrigerator!), maximized space in a footprint barely larger than a motorbike. It was practical, zipping through city streets and effortlessly finding parking.

And popular it was. Almost 162,000 Isettas were sold worldwide, making it the best-selling single-cylinder car ever. It found fans around the globe, from Italy to Britain, Japan and Brazil. In Germany, it earned the nickname “rollende Ei” (rolling egg), a testament to its unique silhouette and enduring appeal.

Across the Channel, France embraced the whimsically named “voiturettes,” with the Renault Dauphine joining the Citroen 2CV as icons of French joie de vivre, their quirky charm and open-air roofs epitomising postwar freedom.

Germany, too, joined the microcar race. The bubble-eyed Messerschmitt KR200, with its airplane-inspired cockpit, brought a touch of wartime aeronautics to the road, while the Goggomobil, with its playful name and cheerful styling, became a favorite among young drivers.

Italy, ever the land of design, entered the fray with the Fiat Topolino, a miniature masterpiece that captured the hearts of drivers with its sleek silhouette and economical engine.

K is for… Kei

Another nation in ruins following WWII, Japan also needed a means of transportation that was affordable, fuel-efficient, and could navigate the narrow, winding roads of its devastated cities.

In 1949, the government introduced the kei car classification, with strict regulations on engine size (limited to 360cc), power output (capped at 40 horsepower) and dimensions (no longer than 3.4 meters and no wider than 1.48 meters). These limitations were not constraints but catalysts for ingenuity.

The first kei cars were utilitarian in nature, prioritizing practicality over aesthetics. The 1955 Suzuki Suzulight SF, a utilitarian two-seater with a spunky 150cc two-stroke engine, was the first kei car to hit the road. It wasn’t exactly rapid, but that wasn’t really the point.

When introduced, the SF also had double wishbone coil-sprung suspension front and rear, with rack-and-pinion steering, features which were far ahead of their time. It even came with 4 body styles, including a pickup and delivery van!

The Subaru 360, introduced in 1958, was another great example, and Subaru’s first, mass-produced motorcar. Its bubble-like windows and rear-mounted engine prioritised space and manoeuvrability, while its fuel efficiency made it a darling of budget-conscious drivers.

Suicide doors, usually reserved for ultra luxury Rolls Royces, enabled easy access to a tiny cabin, whilst the fibre-glass roof and swing-axle rear suspension were added to save cost and weight.

Borne of both a necessity to generate revenue in an environment of low wages and a need from global governments to mobilise its people, these were times of high innovation and creativity.

As Japan’s economy boomed in the 1960s and 70s, so did the kei car market. Manufacturers began to push the boundaries of the kei car classification, injecting doses of personality and performance. The Honda Life StepVan, with its cheerful, almost toy-like appearance, became a ubiquitous sight on city streets.

Imagine a vehicle that’s equal parts charming and practical. Its high-top body, cheerful grille, and sliding side doors screamed “friendly delivery!”. It wasn’t just adorable, though. The StepVan offered incredible cargo space for its size, making it a favorite among small businesses and families alike. This smiling kei van wasn’t just a delivery vehicle either, it was a symbol of Japan’s postwar spirit, delivering smiles along with packages.

Meanwhile, the Mazda R360, with its sporty styling and kerb weight of just 380 kg (838 lb), proved that kei cars could be fun to drive. It was called a coupé for a reason.

Despite producing just 16 PS (12 kW)^[1] and 22 N⋅m (16 lb⋅ft) of torque, the rear-mounted air-cooled 356 cc V-twin engine propelled the 2-door, 4-seat car to 84 km/h (52 mph), which was more than decent in 1960.

Mazda’s first production car not only set the template for the Miata (MX-5), but an entire segment of compact, lightweight driver’s cars we know today.

So not to be sniffed at.

Darwinism

However, like any good product, if you don’t adapt to changing times, you die. And this is where Europe and Japan diverge.

Whilst the microcar’s appeal went beyond mere novelty, particularly during the oil crisis of the 1970s when fuel efficiency was a key driver in the decision-making of car-buying consumers, good engineers never stay still. Big advancements were made in the development of the combustion engine, lightweight materials and automotive packaging.

Take the Austin Mini as a great example. A boxy, 4 seater, front-wheel drive, transverse-engined car that still had enough space for luggage and could, sort of comfortably, allow your family to disappear for a weekend by the beach.

Or the iconic Fiat 500, launched even earlier than the Mini, in 1957, which, just like the baby Austin, offered improved practicality, more space and higher performance in a more conventional, less compromised design.

Because, you see, the microcar wasn’t without its challenges. Safety concerns, particularly with three-wheeled models, led to stricter regulations. Their tiny, motorcycle engines were noisy and high-revving too, and the compromises on space made sense in a struggling, post-war economy, but made less sense when people had more disposable income.

However, the efficiency and affordability of these micro-machines outweighed any of these limitations, especially in the ’50s, ’60s and early ’70s; they put mobility within reach of many, offering a taste of freedom so desperately needed by many.

But only in a vacuum of no other choice.

Yet in Japan, their success endured.

The 1980s and 90s saw kei cars evolve further. Fuel injection technology improved efficiency, while advancements in suspension and handling made them more enjoyable to drive. The Daihatsu Mira, with its simple lines and spacious interior, redefined the breadth of a kei car.

The Suzuki Alto, meanwhile, became the first Kei car, in 1984, to reach the 64 PS (47 kW) threshold and came later with turbocharging, four wheel drive and R variants. As did the rather quirky Suzuki Wagon-R first launched in 1993, which by 2010 had sold 5 million units over 3 generations.

Now in its sixth generation, two of which have been hybridised, the Wagon R (plus other derivatives) remain as popular as ever in Japan, thanks to its reliability, practicality and affordability.

So if kei cars have remained so desirable in Japan, why haven’t microcars lasted elsewhere?

Well for one thing, the popularity of microcars burgeoned in Europe due to a combination of mass poverty and a need for small, agile vehicles that were a short step up from a motorcycle. When the roads were fixed (and Europe takes its roads very seriously) and disposable income rose, priorities changed.

In Japan, however, 73% of its land mass is mountains, which means most liveable areas, particularly cities, are very densely populated. Public transport is also excellent, across and between the islands. So most motor vehicle use is limited to short journeys through narrow streets, if at all.

Enter the kei car.

In 2022, 39% of all car sales were kei cars, their share of the total vehicle sales actually increasing from 37.1% in 2021. So is this something that can be replicated elsewhere? And are changes already afoot?

False Starts

Whilst Japan, and the kei car culture, have remained remarkably consistent, the rest of the world has seen many failed attempts to spark a microcar revolution 2.0.

The best (by volume) example is surely the Smart Fortwo, designed as a two-seater, rear-engined, rear-wheel drive city car that could navigate narrow city streets and park perpendicularly in a space typically reserved for parallel parking. In essence, you can get 2 vehicles in a conventional parking spot!

Despite several hiccups in getting the Fortwo into production, and despite quirks with several of the design features including the interchangeable body panels and perspex rear quarter glass, by 2015 more than 1.7 million vehicles had been sold.

Now in its third generation, there are roadster and Fourfour body styles to complement the two-seater, plus an all-electric variant, and the platform shares many similarities with the Renault Twingo.

In total, nearly 6 million Smart cars have been sold worldwide since its debut.

There was the Toyota Yaris and iQ, though the former was not a microcar, and the iQ was only developed to allow Toyota to meet emission regulations, something Aston Martin copied directly through collaboration with it’s Cygnet.

So why has no-one else jumped on the bandwagon?

Well there have been many attempts, actually, but consistently unsuccessfully.

There’s the REVAi for example, known as G-Wiz in the United Kingdom, a genuine micro-electric car made by the Indian manufacturer Reva Electric Car Company between 2001 and 2012 and made (in)famous by Top Gear UK.

It’s classified as a NEV in the US (albeit with a reduced maximum speed), Heavy Quadricycle in Europe and, tipping the scales at just 270kg in combustion-engine form, can still somehow carry two passengers in comfort seats.

Sure, it wasn’t the speed demon of the highway, but its 250cc motorcycle engine, tucked neatly in the back, could whisk you up to 85 km/h – not bad for a bubble on roller skates. And as for fuel efficiency, we’re talking 3.6 liters per 100 kilometers. Impressive for city commuting.

Yet despite the addition to the lineup of a lithium-ion battery-powered variant in 2009, when the REVAi’s lifecycle ended in 2012, only 4,600 units had been sold across 26 countries. Niche.

Then there’s the Tazzari Zero. I know what you’re thinking and you’d be right; it’s got the feel of a lovechild borne of a drunken escapade between a Fiat 500 and a Vespa.

With just 49HP on tap and in either City or open-air Fun guise, it’s nippy if not rapid, but well-proportioned and efficient. It zips to 50 km/h in a rapid 4.9 seconds, all whilst squeezing 100 km from a single charge.

Enough for a gelato run or a coastal cruise, the Zero might not conquer continents, but who needs that when you have sun-drenched Italian roads and a pocketful of change? Speaking of change, the Zero starts at a surprisingly affordable €24,990 for the City, making it a tempting toy for urban adventurers.

Yet, since its release in 2009, just over 600 had been sold. Not exactly mass-production then.

Micro-Progress

But a change may just be afoot.

The Renault Twizy, released in 2012, is a two-seater vision of shared-mobility that ditched conventional doors and embraced an open-air tandem seating layout, prioritising manoeuvrability and sustainability over spaciousness. Sound familiar?

Underneath its playful bubble-car exterior lies a surprisingly sophisticated drivetrain. Its electric motor churns out 17 hp (13 kW) and 57 Nm of torque, powering it to a modest 80 km/h top speed, perfect for urban commutes and navigating tight traffic jams. Its battery pack offers a 80 km range, adequate for daily errands and city hopping.

To maximize agility and reduce weight, the Twizy, like many microcars, adopts a rear-wheel-drive layout, employing MacPherson struts on both axles for a surprisingly comfortable ride. Its compact dimensions – 2.34 meters long and 1.19 meters wide – make it a parking lot maestro, squeezing into tight spots with ease.

Not only does its open cabin facilitate easy entry and exit, the tandem seating arrangement promotes interaction between driver and passenger that, combined with its zero-emissions footprint make it ideal for car-sharing programs and urban rental fleets.

Though production ended in 2023, that’s only to make way for a replacement under Renault’s spin-off brand Mobilize, to allow for a broader focus on urban mobility.

Then there’s the Citroën Ami quadricycle which takes its name from the timeless economy car released by the French marque in 1961 as a small step up from the 2CV. A brilliantly packaged, light and agile motor vehicle, the modern microcar has a lot to live up to.

The reborn Ami, released in 2020, combines cost-effective design and efficient engineering into a package that has already spun off multiple variants and may well live up to the legacy.

Its cheerful exterior is quirky, not just visually but in the fact that: it comes only in one colour, with customisable stickers; it has a symmetrical body both side to side and front to back; its two doors open differently, and there’s no boot (trunk).

Underneath this unconventional exterior lies a simple yet effective electric drivetrain, with asynchronous motors generating 6 kW (8 hp) and 48 Nm of torque, enough to propel it to a zippy 45 km/h top speed. While not highway-worthy, this perfectly suits city commutes and weaving through bustling streets. Its compact 5.5 kWh battery delivers a 75 km range, ideal for daily errands and urban adventures.

Measuring just 2.41 meters long and 1.39 meters wide, the Ami is another parking lot champion, squeezing into tight spaces with ease. It’s so small, in fact, that in France it can be driven by anyone born before 1988 without a license or by those older than 14 who have an AM license!

Again, though trades have been made on interior space, with a cabin that’s limited to a digital instrument cluster, a small steering wheel, and a smartphone dock for infotainment, the removable doors and panoramic sunroof create a liberating open-air feel for those excess traffic days. And its low entry height and wide-openings make it easy for anyone to hop in and out.

It’s low-cost, highly efficient, agile and easy to park. What more could you want in a city car?

The Fiat Topolino and Opel Rocks-e are both built on the exact same underbody and share many characteristics, plus some quirks. So even from a business perspective, it’s starting to make sense.

Underdogs

Then there’s small companies like Luvly, Nimbus, Squad Mobility and Microlino, to name a few, who have had varying degrees of success.

The Microlino, for example, is a product from a mobility company in Switzerland called Micro whose product lineup is dominated by electric and manual scooters. It’s a lightweight quadricycle that looks strikingly similar to the 1950’s Isetta, with a front-opening door and externally mounted headlights. It has two seats, a trunk, a folding sunroof and can be charged with either a household or a type 2 plug.

Weighing only 513kg, and with a 12.5 kWh battery pack, it can go as far as 230km on a single charge, but is tailored specifically to short journeys intra and inter-cities.

Squad Mobility, with their Squad Solar City car, are also focussing on city dwellers. Though there are many traits the Solar shares with other microcars, the addition of a roof-mounted solar panel that can add up to 19 miles (30.4kms) range per day is a welcome novelty.

Luvly, in Sweden, have taken a different approach to a similar problem. The O, their first product, is still everything a microcar should be: light, compact, agile and efficient. But it also arrives flat-packed, taking sustainability to a new level.

And they’ve gone even further, offering the opportunity for people to create their own LUVs (Light Urban Vehicles) on the same platform. It has the potential to improve the microcar business case significantly, using a single platform for market-tailored microcars.

Nobe, of Estonia, failed in their attempt to bring the stunning GT100 to life, and we’re gutted. With seating for 2, plus rear luggage area (or optional rear jump seat), it also had a front trunk, stability control, air-conditioning and a fully integrated espresso machine, because nothing says urban driving quite like leather driving gloves gripping a bold-roasted Espresso.

There were several other, somewhat eccentric proposals that, when combined, probably explain why it didn’t quite make it. Still, what a shame. Just look at it…

In the US, GEM have been a mainstay of gated communities and campuses across the country for many years, offering all manner of Low-Speed Vehicles, now all-electric, for local roads, with all sorts of seating and design configurations. They’re a popular choice for autonomous taxis too, including May Mobility.

Mahindra, not wanting to rest on the laurels of the REV and REVAi, have created an entire subsidiary, Mahindra Last Mile Mobility, dedicated to urban mobility solutions. Keep an eye our for the Reva NXG and other future derivatives.

And we haven’t even mentioned the innovation within the mobility industry in Japan…

Re-EV-olution

Beyond individual models, the microcar era was marked by a spirit of experimentation. Three-wheeled wonders like the Bond Minicar offered nimble manoeuvrability, while the futuristic bubble cars of the ’50s, with their glass-fibre bodies and space-age aesthetics, promised a glimpse into a Jet engine-inspired future.

But their approach wasn’t one of frivolity or excess, quite the opposite in fact; that was left to the US cars of the ’50s. The microcar movement was one of consumer need and a clear problem definition, the solutions requiring severe ingenuity and bravery.

And the very same can be said now, albeit with different consumer needs and a vastly different (though some would argue not) world.

The challenge of reaching global carbon neutrality by 2050 already feels out of reach, because we simply aren’t moving quickly enough. And, despite huge progress in some continents towards broadening access to public transport and reducing the need for personal vehicles, there are huge swathes of the global population still untouched.

Besides, as we’ve seen with humanity over the millennia, the products adopted quickest don’t force us to change our habits, but rather they blend into the habits we already have. And that is where urban mobility, and microcars, become critical.

In an age where cities are growing at break-neck speeds, and the world is scrambling to pivot towards less carbon-intensive products and processes, transport is going to change, irrevocably. Whether we like it or not, this will mean changes to public transport and a huge rise in personal mobility solutions, including scooters and e-bikes.

But it’s for the greater good, with cleaner, less polluted, quieter cities. And hopefully, shitloads more microcars!

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Well that was a long one, but we hope you found it useful.

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