Some time last year, I decided I fancied a change. A different car. Now don’t get me wrong, I loved my Jeep Renegade in Bikini Blue. It was quirky, a bit different, and very me in that sense. But if I’m being totally honest, it wasn’t the most fun car to drive. And fun matters to me.
A few years before the Renegade, we’d had a really fun car. Michael said it was my car… but let’s be honest, it was very clearly bought for him. A Fiat 500 Abarth in light grey, ridiculously fast, loud, and packed with carbon fibre everywhere. Including on the backs of the seats, which I absolutely hated. It was a proper Michael car. Fun? Yes. Mine? Not really.
That was when we decided to sell it and let me choose. And that’s how the Renegade came into my life. I had her for about four years, I think, before that little itch started again. I knew I wanted a change. And I also knew exactly what that change would involve. Another Abarth.
Because once you’ve driven one, nothing else really compares. You know that line in Pretty Woman right at the beginning, when she drives his car and says it corners like it’s on rails? Yep — that’s the Abarth. They’re small, feisty, and completely ridiculous in the best way. So we started looking. Properly looking. Over months. Finding almost-the-one several times, usually in bright, fun colours, and then walking away for one reason or another.
First though, we had to sell the Renegade. And I’ll admit, it took a while. But a few weeks ago, she went to the loveliest Dutch couple who fell in love with her just like I had. That felt right. And suddenly, we were ready.
Funds sorted. Search on. Still… no THE one.
At one point we thought we’d found it — a 695 70th Anniversary edition — but then discovered it had been stolen at some point in its past, and the original seats had been changed. Red flags everywhere. So we walked away.
I always said I didn’t want a black car. I wanted colour. Something bright. Something fun.
And then… a couple of weeks ago, Michael sent me a link. The second I saw it, I squealed. “That’s my car. That’s my car!!” The thing is… it was black.
A black Fiat 500 Abarth 695 70th Anniversary edition. One of only 1,945 made. Black with light grey wheel arches, and the pièce de résistance — a black and white chequered flag roof. Honestly? It was goth me in car form.
Michael worked his magic, and last week we flew to Germany to collect her and drive her back home to Portugal. We do this with all our cars now, because Germany just has a far better selection. And if you find the right one (engine size, emissions, etc), the import fees aren’t too horrific.
So we flew into Nuremberg and headed to pick up our hire car to drive down to Augsburg. Except… Europcar informed us they had no cars. Despite the booking. Despite the prepayment. How does that even happen?!
They basically shrugged and said they couldn’t help us. The hire places next door were no better — wanting €500 for a single day. The absolute cheek. So off we went to the train station. What. A. Nightmare.
We managed to buy two tickets to Augsburg from the machine — €133 — and the tickets had zero information on them. No platform. No train number. Nothing. Just a time. Brilliant.
There were some very intimidating police officers hanging around with guns. Michael asked one of them. I didn’t really want to because he looked terrifying… but the moment we spoke to him, he smiled, lit up, and was so lovely. He told us which platform we needed — and that we had four minutes to get there. We ran.
Even when we got there, it still wasn’t clear which train was ours. I asked a man, “Augsburg?” He looked around, nodded, so we got on. Pretty sure it wasn’t the right train, but it was going in the right direction, so we took our chances.
It was delayed. And delayed. And delayed some more. We couldn’t understand the German announcements, but the other passengers were clearly not impressed.
Then a man sat opposite us who smelled like he’d been dead for five days. I’m sorry, but it was that bad. When he started asking us for money, we got uncomfortable. All his fingers were missing, which was obviously very sad, and I couldn’t help wondering what kind of life he’d lived. But the smell alone forced us to move.
We ended up standing at the other end of the train. We’d paid for first class but couldn’t even find it — probably because we weren’t meant to be on that train in the first place. After an hour, we gave up.
Uber wanted €377. In the end, fed up beyond words, we got a taxi. €350 later, we arrived at our hotel.
And oh my goodness… it was stunning. An old building right in the centre of Augsburg, dating back to the 1700s. Absolutely beautiful. That evening, we found a vegan place just a few hundred metres away and had the most fabulous vegan burgers. Worth every bit of the chaos.
The next day, we got an Uber to the car showroom. It was unreal.
Lamborghinis. Ferraris. Porsche 911s everywhere. And there was my car. My little Abarth, sitting there like she belonged — which she absolutely did.
After paperwork and waiting (the worst part), we finally drove her away. I can’t even explain how that felt.
That night, we headed to Munich. We stayed in a nice hotel, though not in the best area, and walked over 22,000 steps taking in the sights. We also found an insanely good vegan sushi restaurant — so good that I would genuinely go back to Munich just to eat there again. The walls are all black and the lighting is red hence the weird colour of the photos, below.
The following day, we drove through Austria and Switzerland and ended up in Geneva. We were expecting Zurich vibes… but nope. Very French. Including a supermarket with basically zero vegan food. Disappointing doesn’t cover it.
The weather had been dreadful all day, so we stayed in, ate baguette, cucumber and crisps, and called it a night.
The next day was France. We’d planned to visit Carcassonne — always on my list — but the weather was absolutely pants. Rain, wind, misery. So we carried on and decided to head straight to Barcelona instead.
We booked a lovely hotel and that evening walked 25 minutes in the rain to another vegan restaurant — totally worth it. The food was gorgeous.
Next stop: Madrid.
We booked a perfectly located hotel right in the centre and headed out into the crowds. And when I say crowds… I mean thousands of people. It was Valentine’s Day, and I swear the entire population of Madrid was out celebrating.
The city itself was stunning — what we could see through the sea of people anyway. We found a vegan restaurant called Mad Vegan and it was AMAZING. Highly recommend. But honestly? I was so claustrophobic. I couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and away from everyone.
The following morning, I was genuinely delighted to be heading home.
About six hours later, we arrived back to three cats who acted like they didn’t care at all… until they did. Then came the cuddles. And our bed. Which, quite frankly, is more comfortable than anywhere else on Earth.
And finally… the name.
I always name my cars.
Jeep Renegade — BiBi.
Mercedes Jeep — Big Bertha.
Smart Car — Dolly Van Der Bergen.
So what did I name my new one?
Raven 🖤
