It’s surprising how often we hear of someone going out to buy a modest household item and return home with a car. And it seems the owner of the 1963 Fiat Giardiniera, George Fitzpatrick is guilty of exactly that.
In fact he went to a local auction house to buy an ice machine, which he did.
“While I was doing that I saw this over in the car lot and thought that’s rather cute,” he explains. “I wandered over for a look. It ran, though it had a temporary bit of wiring where you had to press a button to start it – effectively hot-wiring it.
“It had been in a museum in Gosford for 15 years. They had reupholstered it, did the engine, and painted it and wheeled it out as a static display.
“So as you can imagine they didn’t worry about the wiring or the brakes or anything like that. I brought it here, fixed up the wiring, unseized the brakes and got them working.”
As is often the case, there were a host of other areas requiring attention, including a few oil leaks. The car arrived with a set of Minilite replica wheels.
“They looked quite smart,” says George, “but I managed to score an original set of rims – the last in Australia. They’re different to a Bambino, as they’re designed to cope with extra weight.”
It won the heart of the mechanic doing the roadworthy. “He was a big bloke,” says George. “He came back and said the speedo wasn’t working – so I said give it a tap, as it’s tired. Off he went and came back saying ’geez that’s fun!’”
“The engine is the same as a Fiat Bambina, but laid on its side so it fits under the cargo tray.” That means it’s an air-cooled 499cc four-stroke twin out of the 500 D, claiming a modest 17hp. It runs a four-speed manual gearbox.
“The Germans make a hotted-up 750 engine for these,” says George wistfully, “apparently they go like stink.”
Powerplant access is quick and easy, and the simplest approach is to pull it out and sit it on a workbench. The driveline componentry is standard 500, so parts availability is pretty good.
Known as the 500 K, the Giardiniera proved popular over its 1960-77 production, with 327,000 produced.
While the car had undergone some restoration, George thought it best to check it over more carefully. “I pulled the seats out and the floorpan was badly rusted. I welded in a new floorpan and worked on rust under the sills. It was designed to have seatbelts from new, so I put some mounts in.”
He then added new carpets and gave it a general tidy-up.
One aspect he likes is how simple the car is to work on. “Everything is so tiny and easy,” he says.
There are one or two luxuries, such as a heater that feeds both rows of seats and can act as a windscreen demister.
Essentially it was designed with farmers in mind, so you could carry the family and some produce in the back. “It had something like an 800kg payload,” says George, “so it has beefed-up rear suspension and heavier rims.” George reckons it carries more cargo than his Range Rover.
The owner thinks there may be five left in Australia, with many of the originals simply dissolved in to rust over time. As a precaution, he pulled out all the panels seal and sound-deadener, treated the metal and then resealed it.
This example was originally delivered to Western Australia, where it was bought by a farmer. “He had it until he died, and then the museum bought it.”
Despite the modest engine power, the little Fiat does its job, George has had four people in it and reckons it gets around just fine. “I’ll tell you what, it draws a crowd wherever you go!”
It will do 100km/h though it gets frightened of hills and you have to settle for more modest speeds. “It’s a bit like a Mini,” George explains, “in that’s it’s very direct to drive. You feel really in touch with the road and you don’t have to go that fast to get a thrill.”
These days, of course, the car is strictly a dry-weather toy, and what better way is there to spend your Sunday than cruising in the Giardiniera?