Ami, myself and I: Life with Citroen's 28mph urban EV

To him – and countless others, I suspect – a Citroën could be a much-loved part of the family, not just a car. It’s a spirit the brand most recently revived (and then dialled back) with the divisive C4 Cactus project, but one which the Ami wholeheartedly embraces again. Could the Ami really be a Citroën to love (or hate) in the finest traditions of yesteryear, escaping any links with its mass-market and all-too-often third-choice brethren?

That judgement, I concluded after many hours with my foot flat to the floor trying to keep up with everyone else and with an extension cable running out of my front door to top up its 43-mile battery, can only be made with an appreciation of its fitness for purpose – and, most crucially, its likely price of £6000, or £2500 plus a weekly rental of around £20, or even 25p per minute.

In simple, comparative terms, measured against the cheapest new cars or comparable used ones, the Ami is an absurd proposition, flawed in terms of performance, practicality, safety and more. But, as I discovered, that doesn’t tell the full story.

Yes, the limitations are plentiful, from its strictly two-seat format through to the built-in three-pin plug that awkwardly feeds into a recess behind the passenger door, the not awful but not much better seats and the fabric cords that you tug to release the door catches. While a neat cost-saving solution, those scream penny-pinching at anyone who steps aboard. Oh, and then there’s the tentpole-like metal frame that surrounds you, a visible reminder that the Ami is a quadricycle, not a car, and therefore safety is best measured in terms of ‘I’d rather be in that than on a motorbike’.

But where normally just one or two of these limitations would be enough to end the discussion, the Ami is different. You need only to glance at it to understand that it’s created solely for use in built-up areas, where 43 miles (and it is remarkably true to its range indicator’s claims) are enough for a week’s driving and where travelling at 28mph is a rare luxury (central London’s peak-time average speed is 7.1mph and inner London’s 11.6mph, suggesting that the Ami in fact has an ample surplus of pace).

Built for two it may be but, because of the battery being in the floor, there’s a remarkable amount of space inside, and more than enough for a decent food shop. You sit high and surrounded by windows, and while the cute, 2CV-inspired horizontally hinged passenger windows only flick up, making it a bit claustrophobic, visibility is great. Combined with the Ami’s compact dimensions and jaw-dropping turning circle, it makes for a city vehicle that has unusual agility, and one that is especially easy to place, be it between gaps in the traffic or nose-on into the kerb for a spot of opportunistic parking. You might feel more powerful, safe or at home in your SUV, but the feeling of liberation that comes from being behind the wheel of the Ami is unmatched in anything else I’ve driven. Now perhaps you’re starting to sense why it’s more than just a head-turner.

And then there’s the fact that it’s undeniably clever, making a virtue of delivering enough (pace, space, perhaps even grace, given its electric underpinnings, although the lack of any kind of sound-damping or meaningful suspension means serenity comes only if your destination offers it) without making you aware of how many corners have had to be cut.

Even if you don’t like its design, you have to admire it. Here’s a car with panels that swap front to back and side to side, with drawstrings for door handles and plastic trim that Tonka would be proud of, yet there’s no hint of hair shirt about it; it’s a low-cost product with admittedly cartoonish design flourishes that perhaps even Terence Conran could have admired. In that regard, as my trip around Knightsbridge highlighted, it’s brilliant.

Would I drive it every day? No, that would be silly. Would I drive it around my part of London, where speeds are limited to 20mph? Maybe, although I would prefer it if everyone were also in Amis, so that congestion were eased and the likelihood of me being crushed by any of the posh SUV owners whose sensibilities seemed so inflamed by sharing the road with it were greatly reduced. But would it fit into my life as the car that I hop in when the conditions and my needs most suit its capabilities? Certainly, and at this price, why not?

Maybe if UK sales begin, I will be proved wrong, but my hunch is that it would be too kind even to say that the Ami isn’t a car for everyone. In truth, it is, I suspect, a car for hardly anyone. Not, perhaps, for my daughter just yet; but for a niche, it will be both lovable and practical, liberating and just-so, as well as unapologetically unconventional.

Perhaps crucially, for owners and for Citroën, it will also always be visible, a mobile advert for some of the finer aspects of its maker’s alternative outlook on life that would take many millions of marketing expenditure to otherwise achieve.