On a bright and beautiful Saturday morning last month, CC Editor Jim Klein and I were on our way to the Toyota Megaweb museum by way of an elevated train. He was keen to point out an Alfa Romeo he had spied in one of the surrounding building car parks when we rode past a gigantic BMW / Mini dealership. Amongst the many modern machines gathered there, I thought I saw a distinctly un-modern ovoid shape. Our stop was next, so I convinced Jim to walk in the opposite direction of our stated goal to investigate.
That’s how we happened upon this relatively rare British-made BMW Isetta 300. The tell-tale sign of its true origin – aside from the RHD steering – is its three wheels. All other Isettas, be they made by BMW or others, had four wheels. Some British-made ones had four wheels too, but those were made for export, mostly. The three-wheel tax loophole made the four-wheeled version quite superfluous in the UK. It couldn’t have been that good for the car’s stability, but some people will put up with anything to save a buck (or, in this case, a quid)…
The Iso original, made from 1953 to 1956
The story of the Isetta is rooted in the inventiveness of an Italian firm and the desperation of a German one. In the late ‘40s, Isothermos CEO Renzo Rivolta got his firm involved in the latest automotive craze, which was scooters. He soon figured that a four-wheeled version might be an easy sell, provided he could make the product compact and modern enough. Rivolta hired aeronautic engineers Pierluigi Raggi and Ermenegildo Preti to design a completely novel concept, the Isetta.
The Italian Isetta was launched at the 1953 Turin Motor Show and made quite an impression. It did not, however, meet much success on its native market, where Fiat reigned supreme. Rivolta only managed to make a few thousand, including a pickup version, until Iso production stopped in 1956. He soon realized that recouping his investment would entail foreign licensing deals.
Enter beleaguered Bavarian bike-maker BMW, whose financial health was not at its peak by the mid-‘50s. BMW’s cars were too big for the times, so they were very keen on introducing an economy model, which could use a BMW motorcycle engine, to compete with the dozens of microcars that buzzed around German and European towns in the ‘50s.
1956 US advert helpfully taught folks how to mispronounce I-talian names…
The idea had merit and the Isetta fit the bill. Production of the 12hp BMW Isetta 250 started in 1955 and sales were quite satisfactory, though they improved even more once German legislation enabled BMW to raise the 1-cyl. engine’s displacement to 300cc in 1956, which edged the hp count to 13.
There was another Isetta at this Tokyo BMW dealer: a two-tone German-made late ‘50s example
Later that year, BMW engineered a completely different shell for the Isetta that gave the car a sort of pseudo-hardtop appearance. This enabled the installation of sliding windows – a definite progress compared to the older design’s goldfish-bowl. Other Isetta licensees, such as Velam in France or Romi in Brazil, did not get the benefit of BMW’s superior design.
1957 British brochure excerpt
But the UK did, because the licensee, Isetta of Great Britain, Ltd., got their kits straight from Munich. The Southern Locomotive Works in Brighton made a deal with BMW to manufacture the Isetta under BMW’s name in Britain and provided factory space for this purpose in the English resort town. Production started in April 1957. BMW sent engines, transmissions and body panels to Brighton; tyres, electrical gear, brakes, suspension and other small bits and pieces were sourced in the UK.
Compare and contrast: the interior of a German-made BMW Isetta and of a British-built one
The British Isetta lost a wheel in 1958 and sales finally took off. BMW were in danger of sinking without a trace, and but for their little bubble car to buoy up the company’s market presence, they would have. After the infamous Quandt buy-out in 1959, the Bavarian firm found its footing again and started getting rid of the many dead-end product lines it had accumulated throughout the ‘50s, such as the 600, a kind of stretched Isetta four-seater that went nowhere, commercially speaking.
The bubble hadn’t burst yet on the Isetta, though. It soldiered on until 1962 in West Germany and for about a year longer in Sussex, as the British side of the JV was bought out by BMW and production was moved to a different part of town. The Isetta egg-speriment had been a success: over 135,000 were made in Bavaria and another 25,000 were assembled in England. By comparison, none of the French, Italian, Spanish or Brazilian Isetta variants ever broke the 10,000 unit mark.
Some have claimed that this little “motorcoupé” saved BMW’s bacon. I have my doubts – the real saviours of the marque were the 700 and the Neue Klasse saloons, in my opinion. Financially, the Isetta certainly kept a trickle of cash flowing into Munich, but it was nowhere near sufficient.
On the domestic market, BMW sold these for the price of a motorbike, which is how they manage to sell so many. But I doubt they made a lot of profit from it – unlike Iso, which used the proceeds of their Isetta licensing deals to launch an ambitious V8-powered Bertone-styled coupé. A sort of BMW in reverse, which did not end well. All because of that little egg. The yolk’s on them.
How small is the Isetta? Here it is compared to a regulation-size CC Editor…
Related posts:
Cohort Outtake: Bond Bugs Bugging An Isetta, by PN
Museum Classics: Jesada Technik Museum – Part 3: The Stranger Stuff, by T87
CC History: The Silent Rise and Fall of Omerta, by Imperialist
Museum Classics: Stubble of the Dubble Bubble – The Bruce Weiner Microcar Museum, by Ed Stembridge
Car Show Classics: Some Major Microcars At Motorclassica, by JohnH875
A year ago according to this article, a new version of the Isetta had just started production, the Microlino.
https://www.autoblog.com/2018/08/16/bmw-isetta-microlino-bubble-car/
https://microlino-car.com/en/microlino
I remember riding the Isetta a several times when I was little in Karlsruhe. Seeing the door opening outward with steering wheel and column swinging out made a lasting impression on me.
Last year, BMW Welt had one Isetta out for the short rides round the “vortex tower”. I chanced on riding it and was very surprised how roomy the interior was, especially for a 2.05m tall guy. Surprisingly easy to get in and out for me.
I am very sorry but the Isetta initially kept BMW afloat in the fifties, the 501-502 Barok Engel was not a hughe success nor was the now highly desirable 507 roadster a success, originally asked for by Max Hoffman the US importer who wanted a rival for Mercedes’ 300 SL.
BMW’s 503 Coupe was also a miss .
The Isetta brought cash flow and gave BMW time to develop the 700 series and the ‘neue klasse’ BMW 1500.
Hoffman also was the initiator to ask for a 2-door version of the 1500, BMW listened again and this resulted into the very successfull 1600 or 02- series, the rest is history.
The way I look at it, they started making Isettas in 1955 and were squarely in the ditch, ready to be swallowed by Daimler-Benz, by 1959. So I fail to see how the Isetta “kept BMW afloat.” It helped them slow their decline a bit, but it was nowhere near sufficient to keep them from going bust.
Also consider the damage the Isetta was doing to BMW’s image, and the fact that it was a technological dead-end. They are iconic, sure — with hindsight. But they were not BMW’s saviour. As you pointed out, that was more the role of the 700 and the Neue Klasse.
Then you should also mention the bankrupcy of the Borgward concern, in all fairness the Isabella was the only serious German competitor for the neue klasse Borgward wnt belly up which sure did help BMW. Quandt simply made the right gamble way back when.
And with regards to their image, well I guess beggars can’t ve choosers.
I have to agree with Rammstein about the Isetta keeping BMW alive. Having been intimately involved with a sinking enterprise, I’ve learned that cash flow is everything.
If you want to stay alive to gamble on the next big thing, pay your suppliers regularly, pay your engineers well, and buy one good suit, even if you have to live in a shack yourself.
We took in assembly work for a totally unrelated product till our own product was ready for prime-time…
As for the Isetta, I saw one at a car show last summer parked next to a 1959 Plymouth… all I could think about was how lousy the drum brakes were on those big Plymouth’s….
“cash flow is everything. ”
I get that. I wrote that in the piece, too.
However, you have to look at the situation BMW had got themselves in by the late ’50s: high-end cars that weren’t selling, motorcycles sales that were falling off a cliff and a microcar that did sell, but did not make money. The vultures were circling above BMW.
They had that famous shareholders meeting in 1959 when Quandt essentially bought the company and thwarted the Daimler takeover. And what did Quandt point to as the sign that BMW had a viable future? The 700, which had been developed by Denzel in Austria.
So the Isetta’s role in BMW’s last-minute reprieve was that of a bystander, not an active participant. They could have made BMW fridges, scooters or tractors, the result would have been the same. Cash flow, but not enough to keep the wolf from the door.
So basically you see the Isetta as a stopgap, a way to allow BMW to more or less tread water until more long-term viable solutions appeared that then allowed them a way to actually grow and move forward.
a microcar that did sell, but did not make money.
Like with so many things in business (and life), things are not binary. The Isetta did make a profit, but it was too small to enable BMW to grow and develop critically needed new models.
The capital needs of an expanding automaker are huge, as Tesla has shown. BMW lost most of its facilities in the war. They were hobbling along with two model lines that created insufficient capital. Thus the firm was seen as needing to be be bought or recapitalized. Which is what happened. It had no future otherwise, except the motorcycle business, which was pretty marginal by then, as motorcycles were mostly bought then as daily transport, not as recreational toys.
There’s no doubt in my mind that if there hadn’t been an Isetta, BMW would have failed, and fully failed, earlier. The Isetta made a material difference, a stop-gap, even if it wasn’t the full-on savior they had hoped for, or needed ultimately.
I have the vaguest of memories of seeing one of these when I was a tot. I remember being fascinated by the door being on the front of the car.
Could we also think of this car as the one that killed Borgward? Only one of the two companies was destined to live, and without the Isetta there would have been little to salvage at BMW.
I had forgotten about the 3 wheel variant from England. I love the English adverts showing how tiny the Isetta was in comparison to the average British car, which was not all that big to begin with.
I can remember when these, and their Heinkel rival, were everywhere.
I always found the BMW “hard-top” bubble much more attractive than the original version.
I only agreed to walk back the way we came because I saw the CurryWurst food truck in front of the dealership. Don’t get between Jimmy and a CurryWurst…
However I’m glad I did as the Isetta was lovely (both of them) and that BMW/Mini dealer was chockfull with other very interesting stuff as well as having pretty much the full current range on display inside with even more outside. One of the best new-car dealers I’ve seen in years from that perspective and it shows how large their current range really is.
Alright then Jimmy, what’s your limit on Schnitzengruben??
Darnit, now you’ve got me checking airfares to Deuschland.
Ah, CurryWurst (mit frittes), the late night snack of choice for multiple generations of military personnel after a night on the swill. I could say some more but anyone who has been there has a good idea how this ends.
These were common in my childhood in Innsbruck, along with other bubblecars. We used to see Germans heading for Italy in them, with the interior jammed with luggage, and roof racks on them for their tents and camping gear. It was a decided step up from heading to Italy on a scooter or motorbike.
There was even a microcar built in Innsbruck, which I covered here: https://www.curbsideclassic.com/automotive-histories/automotive-history-1952-1954-libelle-dragonfly-the-only-car-ever-built-in-innsbruck/
Still available recently my BIL has or had a beautifully detailed model of this car bought when he worked in Rover spares which was owned by BMW the model has its own BMW part number etc, I did have some photos but they will be on my desktop at home.
Only in England could the taking off of a wheel and sales coincide. No wonder they later resorted to smiting cars with tree branches to make them start. Seemed quite normal by comparison.
Whilst the chances of spying one of these glassy fire helmets in Japan would be about as high as finding a Helmet there, there’s something offensive about these wherever located. Like not a few car nuts, I haven’t the slightest interest in motorbikes, and these micros appear to be trying to play both sides of that fence without any real appeal to either.
They were a response, and quite a rational one, to a certain set of needs at a certain point in time, but once upon a time, so was – for the satisfaction of written musical needs – castration.
And we sure don’t do that any more.
Drive microcars, I mean.
Cary Grant approves.
The engine was basically the single cylinder motorcycle engine with a blower and blower housing added to it. The rear wheels were spaced narrow in order to forgo a differential. The 4 wheeled version was cornering very well because it as a mid-engine design. Supposedly it was hard to beat on curvy downhill stretches.
In Germany the 250 cc version required an easy to get class IV driver’s license only. I think the 300 cc version required a class III license for proper cars.
I always thought it would be fun to ask some bimbo on a date and tell her that you’re going to pick her up in your Bimmer, then show up in this.
Car designs are often dictated by local regulations. Here in the UK the 3 wheeler was a lower tax class, you could drive one at 16 and if it had no reverse gear it could be driven on a motorbike license.
This was my first car. Bubble cars were cheap as chips second hand when I was 16, you could have your choice between an Issetta, a Heinkel, a Trojan or a Messerschmitt. We had a little Issetta gang, 3 of them, red, white and blue, cruising round together. Five skinny teenagers can ride in an Issetta, three across the bench seat and two on the shelf with their heads out the roof. Happy daze…
The Messerschmitt was the most fun with it’s full length perspex cockpit, tandem seating, sportscar driving position and aeroplane style steering. Your own little ME109. To reverse you stopped the engine and turned the key the other way which started the 197cc Sachs two stroke backwards, and you had all 4 gears available. 40mph in reverse was a good trick.