The sheer assertiveness of the little FIAT Panda, sitting at 130 km/h (about 80 mph) and refusing to move aside despite my repeated flashes, was not stubbornness. It was doctrine.
My utmost respect goes to the fearless driver (indeed: the test pilot) pushing the Panda beyond every reasonable fear, because only those who have done 130 in a Panda truly know what fear is. The pure kind. The unfiltered kind. The kind that does not pass through ABS, but goes straight to the soul.
Yes, I overtook you. But I did so with respect.
With the respect owed to someone conducting an unauthorised scientific experiment, based on the hypothesis that “if everything vibrates at the same time, then it must be holding together”.
The same respect one owes to those who face the unknown without protection, armed only with a gear lever vibrating like a tuning fork and a dashboard quietly saying its final rosary.
Because 130 km/h in a Panda is not a speed.
It is a state of mind. A mystical experience. An act of faith.
It is a rite of passage. A pilgrimage. A formal request for divine intercession.
And then there are those who, in a Panda 1000 “Fire”, have seen 140 on the speedometer and, in the so called “death seat”, met Jesus in person.
Not to be scolded, but to be told: “Look, do as you wish, but this is as far as my warranty goes”.
(The “death seat” refers to the front passenger seat.
Often jokingly called the “mother-in-law seat”, it is traditionally considered the most dangerous position in older cars, as it is closest to the dashboard and the first to suffer in a frontal impact.)
The technical literature is clear.
At 110, a FIAT Panda vibrates.
At 120, the little images of Saint Padre Pio start turning away, unable to watch.
At 130, the Virgin Mary appears and, with infinite patience, says: “My son, I can perform miracles, but do not provoke me”.
Above 150, according to highly reliable sources, the holy images on the windscreen begin to applaud. Not in encouragement, but as a farewell.
And then there are the chivalric epics.
Motorway. A Volkswagen Golf Mk2 pulling out to overtake.
Out of nowhere, a classic light green Panda “Young” dives in.
Pride kicks in. Throttle down.
Door to door at 120–130. Neither looks at the other. Ever.
Not out of fear. Out of honour. Dominic Toretto, step aside.
Here space time bends, oil sublimates, and those behind can smell the scent of mechanical components giving everything they have, and more.
Then the exit and the separation.
No glance. No word.
Two warriors. Two worlds.
Two insurance companies blissfully unaware.
So yes, dear FIAT Panda: I overtook you.
But it was not an overtake. It was a military salute.
Because at 130 in a Panda, you are not simply driving.
You are making history.
