1964 Autobianchi Bianchina 4-Posti – Lipstick On A Mouse

Whereas VWs always made people think of various kinds of insects, little Fiats were more mammalian in the public’s imagination. Hence the 1935-55 Fiat 500 Topolino, or “little mouse,” the original miniature Italian car. The rear-engined Nuova 500 had a less rodent-like physique, but apply a dab of chrome here and stick out some fins there, and you had yourself something rather pleasing to the eye.

That was the entire reason for creating Autobianchi, in the early years. It was a triple alliance bringing together tyre manufacturer Pirelli’s money, Fiat’s technical know-how and former carmaker (and, to this day, top-notch bicycle producer) Bianchi’s production capacity. The partnership kind of faltered as soon as it was signed and Bianchi’s share was gobbled up by Fiat, who took control of the whole operation. Nevertheless, the idea of a super-deluxe Fiat 500 was a sound one, as sales proved very quickly.

It all started with the Bianchina Trasformabile convertible coupé (top left) in 1957. This was joined in 1960 by a cabriolet and a wagon, the latter of which could be ordered as a van, either with a standard roof or a high roof.

In the spring of 1962, the final member of the Bianchina family joined the range, the 4-posti berlina. Essentially, this was a cabriolet with a square roof, specially designed to eke out every centimetre of cabin space from the Fiat 500 platform (in standard 184cm wheelbase guise, the wagon / van boasted an extra 10cm between the axles). In so doing, the 4-posti elbowed out the Trasformabile and ended up having quite a bit more success, thanks to the four-seat layout.

Like the other Bianchinas, the 4-Posti was designed by Luigi Rapi, then head of Fiat’s Centro Stile.

The addition of the trendy little fins was perfectly in-tune with trends in 1960, but did not necessarily age very well. Certainly by the mid-‘60s, the Bianchina would have looked a bit passé compared to, say, a BMC Mini or a Renault 4.

Of course, at the lower end of the market, up-to-date styling was not seen as important (see the 2CV or the Beetle), but Autobianchi’s whole shtick was to be a tarted-up Fiat, so they had to be a bit more fashion-conscious than most of their peers. And Rapi’s ornate yet tasteful treatment of the Bianchina made for a pretty result, perfectly in keeping with the brief.

The boxiness was in stark contrast to the bubbly and chubby Fiat 500. Again, this was both deliberate from an image standpoint and useful for passenger space. The Bianchina even features a rarely seen item (in saloons of the period, certainly) in its bolt-upright backlight, cleverly disguised by the C-pillar.

It sure makes for some of the best rear vision available on any car – the exact opposite of the claustrophobic rear ends of today’s cars, or of the streamliners that preceded this Autobianchi in the ‘30s. Just because you have an engine in the back doesn’t mean it has to be impossible to see anything behind you (looking at you, Tatra…)

There were two trim levels on offer for these – Standard and Special. Even for a Standard, this one is missing some of its interior trim. Specials had more elaborate interiors, two-tone paint and a slightly more powerful engine, but were quite a bit more expensive and thus sold rather poorly.

Speaking of, the motor sitting aft of the rear wheels is the famous Fiat 449.5cc air-cooled parallel twin, which by this time produced 18hp (DIN). So it was important for the living quarters to be comfortable, as one was likely to be spending quite a bit of time in there.

The back seat is almost human adult-sized. Well, 1960s Italian adult-sized, in any case. Quite a feat, given the car’s overall dimensions: just 302cm (119’’) in length (that’s for the whole car, not just the wheelbase), 134cm (52.8’’) wide and an almost identical 132cm tall.

The Fiat 500 was exported far and wide, and even locally assembled in several European countries. The Autobianchi, being a more niche product, was less widely seen abroad, but it still had a fair amount of success overseas, particularly in neighbouring France. Over there, the car was deemed both chic and practical for urban use – the same cocktail that made the Mini such a hit there. But there were quite a few other options on the table at this price point. Let’s take a look at how it fared in context.

If you include the Simca as a member of the Fiat family (which it very much was, under the skin), the Turin giant had a lot of the lower end of the market under its spell. Of course, Renault and Citroën had their iconic takes on the popular car, which was a completely different approach. The VW and NSU cost a bit more – close to the price of a nicely-trimmed Aronde or a Panhard, but with built-in quality not seen in most of the rest of this table. The car that was closest to the Bianchina in spirit was probably the Glas, but it was just too odd (and cramped) to be a serious rival.

Autobianchi in the ‘60s had a clear-cut mission and it stuck to it. It was a luxury alternative to the proletarian Fiat 500 and, just as importantly, it served as the experimental division. Fiat tried their hand at GRP bodies with the Stellina and at FWD with the Primula, both marketed under the Autobianchi marque. The Primula was a sales success and was the basis for the future of Fiat, whereas the Stellina was a failure. But because it was an Autobianchi failure, damage was limited.

In 1965, a very minor facelift was granted to the Bianchina range to celebrate the fact that the chassis had changed to the 500 F, which meant everyone got the 21hp engine. Bianchina saloons and cabriolets even received faux wood to dress up their dash some more. Production carried on until 1969 for those and 1970 for the LWB versions.

The Bianchina, given how modest its development costs were, was also a pretty big success. Between 1957 and 1970, Autobianchi sold over 275k of this family of cars, including just under 70k of the four-seater saloon seen here. The one that really sold well was the Panoramica wagon – at least 160k units for that one alone. Incidentally, Autobianchi inherited the whole production line for these, manufacturing all LWB Fiat 500s until the model left the range in 1977.

I’m almost shocked that this is the first Bianchina I’ve encountered here. It is difficult to imagine a car that would be better suited to Japanese road conditions and tastes. Instead, the Fiat 500 (both the newer one and the ‘50s model that begat this Autobianchi) are seen in throngs, leaving only the true cognoscenti to recognize this 4-Posti for what it’s worth. A little lipstick goes a long way.

 

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Cohort Pic(k) of the Day: Autobianchi Bianchina Trasformabile – The Italian Rambler Convertible Landau, by PN

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