Why the UK is slow to embrace microcars – and why our cities need them
April 25, 2025
In city traffic, a two-seater electric pod like the Citroën Ami or the tiny pedal-assisted Quadvelo seems an obvious choice for urbanites – slipping through congested streets, easy to park, and using a fraction of the space and energy of a SUV. Designs such as the Ami, Pony4 quadricycle, or four-wheeled velomobiles promise a radically different transport model: One of smaller, lighter vehicles tailored to short trips.
On paper, the logic is clear. In practice, however, Britons have been slow to embrace these mini-mobiles. Traditional cars – especially bulky SUVs – still dominate UK city streets, even as space, safety, and pollution concerns mount. So what’s holding us back from going small?
The case for going small
Cities are inherently ill-suited to conventional cars. Streets in historic UK city centres were never designed for today’s multi-tonne SUVs. Limited street width and scarce parking mean large vehicles occupy asn unreasonalbe amount of public space and this forces them into conflict with each other, with cyclists, and with pedestrians.
The larger the car, the more road and parking real estate it consumes, worsening congestion and squeezing out other users. In contrast, an ultra-compact vehicle like the Citroën Ami, for instance, is only 2.41m long – so short that two Ami microcars could fit end-to-end in a single standard parking bay. Its footprint is comparable to a commercial wheelie bin, yet it provides enclosed transport for two people.
Importantly, these tiny vehicles align with how we actually use cars in cities. Despite the occasional cross-country road trip, most car journeys in the UK are short. Government travel surveys reveal that 72% of all trips are under five miles, and the average car journey in Britain is only about 8 miles. The majority of urban drives – the commute to the station, the school run, the grocery dash – cover just a few miles at low speeds. Equally, most car trips carry only one or two people. The average UK car occupancy is about 1.6 people, and roughly 60% of car journeys are taken without passengers. In other words, it’s very common to see a 5-seater vehicle weighing over 1.5 tonnes being used to ferry a single occupant a very short distance. From a purely rational standpoint, this is a transport mismatch. We’re using the wrong tools for the job.
Ultra-compact vehicles are specifically designed to fill this gap. They offer just enough car for these short-hop, low-occupancy trips. A micro-EV like the Ami has a modest 46-mile range and 28 mph top speed, but Citroën points out this is more than adequate for the vast majority of urban drivers. In return, these vehicles bring benefits: Zero tailpipe emissions, minimal noise, and far lower energy use than a full-sized car (thanks to their light weight and small batteries). They’re also easier to park and manoeuvre – the Ami’s turning circle (7.2m) beats even a London taxi’s agility, meaning less time spent circling for a parking space or executing multi-point turns on narrow streets.
Perhaps most significantly, ultra-compact cars pose far less danger to other road users. Their lower weight and limited top speed mean that in the event of a collision, the consequences are less severe. Unlike SUVs, which have higher fronts and greater blind spots that increase the risk to pedestrians and cyclists, microcars offer better visibility and reduced kinetic force in a crash. As cities grapple with road danger and strive to meet Vision Zero targets, the shift to lighter, slower vehicles is not just sensible – it’s life-saving.
The rise of the SUV in particular has put a spotlight on the unsuitability of large, heavy cars in city environments. In the UK, SUV ownership has surged: In 2023, 60% of new cars sold were SUVs, a proportion that has climbed steadily each year. These vehicles are wider and taller than standard cars – increasingly, the largest examples too wide for a normal parking space. In fact, more than half of all new cars sold last year in Britain can’t fit in a standard parking bay, one analysis found, thanks to 'car bloat'. On city streets, the impact is tangible. Roads feel tighter and more congested, visibility is reduced, and parking spills onto the pavement.
Congestion itself is worsened by large numbers of large vehicles. London is now regularly named Europe’s most congested city, and average car speeds in the centre have dropped to around 10 mph – slower than most people can cycle. Hauling a 2-tonne SUV through stop-and-go traffic not only wastes fuel (or energy) but also increases pollution. Even electric SUVs produce substantial particulate pollution from tire and brake wear, simply because their weight and size put more stress on consumables. And when vehicles that size are petrol or diesel, their emissions per mile are higher than small cars’. For air quality and climate, down-sizing our cars matters.
Road safety is another major concern. Big SUVs and trucks have well-documented safety downsides in urban settings – especially for those outside the vehicle. Their high, blunt fronts create larger blind spots and hit pedestrians at chest or head height. Data shows SUVs are significantly more likely than lower-profile cars to kill a pedestrian in a collision. For vehicle occupants, modern cars are of course designed with elaborate safety features – but those features also add weight and bulk, contributing to the cycle of ever-bigger cars “for safety” that makes city streets intimidating for everyone else.
Ultra-compact cars like quadricycles, with their lower speed and mass, pose far less risk. This is a public health issue as much as a design one.
A history lesson in going small
It’s easy to imagine that ultra-compact cars are a modern concept, but Britain has embraced small cars before – enthusiastically, even. The 1950s and 60s saw an explosion of miniature motoring in Britain, from the iconic Mini to bubble cars like the BMW Isetta and Messerschmitt KR200. These pint-sized vehicles were affordable, charmingly styled, and perfectly suited to postwar urban streets. The original Mini was barely over three metres long and became a symbol of British ingenuity and urban efficiency.
Bubble cars, though more niche, offered practical mobility at a time when many couldn’t afford or justify a full-sized vehicle. While some of these tiny cars were the butt of jokes, they also captured the public imagination – starring in films, rally races, and even royal motorcades. There was a time when driving small wasn’t seen as second best – it was fashionable, fun, and forward-looking. The Ami, Pony4, and Quadvelo can be seen as 21st-century heirs to this legacy: compact, city-savvy vehicles for an age where space, efficiency, and climate impact matter more than horsepower.
Why Britain clings to the big car culture
If the case for tiny vehicles in cities seems strong, the reality on UK roads today tells a different story. Brits remain wedded to their traditional cars, and generally bigger is seen as better. Part of this reluctance is cultural. We have a deeply ingrained car culture where cars are more than just transport – they’re expressions of identity and status. Driving a bulky 4x4 conveys a certain image; by contrast, hopping out of a toy-like microcar might not project the prestige many drivers desire. There’s a reason the sight of an adult in an adorably small car often provokes chuckles. One French journalist, test-driving the Ami in Paris, noted reactions ranging from “uncontrolled giggle” to “where do I get one?”, along with “the odd pitying stare.”
In Britain, where humor and scepticism are never far apart, many suspect those pitying stares would dominate. Fear of ridicule and of looking odd is a real psychological barrier. As one commentator wryly observed, for most people “the fear of non-conformity is a powerful motivation, and a Toyota Corolla is a much safer bet than a small-production car that’s a little bit weird”
In other words, sticking with a conventional car feels socially easier – you won’t be the object of pointing and laughing at the office car park. Another factor is the status symbolism of cars. Over decades, advertising and social norms have equated bigger, more expensive cars with success. A pint-sized EV like the Ami, priced under £8,000, might be seen as a downgrade – “just a quadricycle” – unworthy of someone who can afford a “proper” car. This snobbery can’t be ignored. The British motoring psyche still carries echoes of the old Top Gear jibes at microcars and three-wheelers as jokes. Choosing a tiny vehicle requires bucking the norm and potentially sacrificing pride, something many drivers aren’t prepared to do. Practical safety concerns also loom large in British drivers’ minds. On UK roads filled with vans, SUVs and buses, the thought of sitting in a featherweight micro-vehicle can be unnerving. Drivers worry about crash protection if a full-sized car hits them. (The Ami, for instance, has seatbelts but no airbags – perfectly adequate at city speeds, one might argue, but that “what if?” of a collision with a larger vehicle is a mental hurdle.)
There’s also the issue of mixing vehicle types: British roads generally do not have separate lanes for low-speed microcars, so an Ami or similar would be sharing space with everything from bicycles to 38-tonne lorries. It’s understandable that many people feel safer in a big vehicle by default, even if statistically that safety may be a double-edged sword. Then there are regulatory and infrastructure quirks. Unlike France and some other EU countries, the UK doesn’t have a licence category that allows unlicensed or underage driving of four-wheeled micro vehicles. In France, 14-year-olds can drive a Citroën Ami (classified as a light quadricycle) after gaining a simple safety certificate – opening up a market of teenagers and others without full licences.
In Britain, by contrast, an Ami is treated much like a normal car: You must be 17+ with a full driving licence, and you can’t drive it on motorways. This removes one incentive (youth mobility) that has boosted microcar popularity elsewhere. The UK’s car insurance and tax regime doesn’t particularly favour tiny vehicles, either. You’d likely pay close to the same insurance for a quadricycle as for a small conventional car, because it’s an uncommon category. So the economic case isn’t immediately obvious to consumers, beyond the relatively low purchase price and running cost. All these factors – image, safety perception, and lack of special status – contribute to British drivers largely sticking with what they know. Even those who acknowledge that a smaller vehicle would suffice for most of their trips might still default to a larger car “just in case” or out of habit and expectation.
Where mini-cars are taking off – and why
While Britain hesitates, pockets of Europe – and the world – are embracing ultra-compact vehicles in creative ways. France is perhaps the flagship market: Thanks to the quadricycle regulations, vehicles like the Citroën Ami have found eager buyers among both teenagers and older adults. Within months of its 2020 launch, the Ami became a common sight on Parisian streets. Citroën has now sold over 65,000 Ami microcars in Europe, a remarkable figure for such a tiny car. It helps that the Ami is license-free for 14+ in France, but it’s also tapping into a genuine demand for cheap, clean city transport. Young people who might otherwise get a scooter (or rely on parents for lifts) can instead buzz around in a weather-proof, plug-in microcar – no full licence or petrol needed. And many urban dwellers who don’t want the expense of a full car find the Ami or its peers a handy second vehicle or runabout.
Other European manufacturers have noticed this trend: Renault’s mobility division is launching the Mobilize Duo, a Twizy-like micro EV, and Italy’s Birò and Estrima have been selling dinky electric city cars for years.
The Dutch have long used tiny enclosed four-wheelers (like the Canta) as mobility aids for disabled or elderly people. These microcars are even allowed in bike lanes and on pavements in some Dutch cities, under special rules, precisely because they’re relatively light and slow.
Elsewhere, dense Asian cities are also exploring smaller vehicles. Perhaps the most dramatic success story is in China, where a tiny $5,000 electric car called the Wuling Hongguang Mini EV captured the public’s imagination. In a country known for mega-cities and heavy traffic, this ultra-basic four-seat mini car became a bestseller. Over 1.5 million units have been sold so far, and at one point it even outsold all other electric models in China. The appeal? It’s extremely affordable, easy to park in cramped urban neighborhoods, and sufficient for short city commutes – sound familiar?
Chinese consumers effectively voted with their wallets for a smaller, simpler car that fits their daily reality. Japan is another relevant example: While not as tiny as the Ami, Japan’s longstanding kei cars (microcars limited by law to about 3.4m length and 660cc engines) have been hugely popular as city cars. Roughly a third of cars sold in Japan are kei cars – showing that if you set certain restrictions (like parking) and regulatory incentives for small vehicles (like tax breaks, lower insurance, and access benefits), people will buy them en masse.
These examples from abroad highlight a common theme: When cities or countries make a deliberate place for small vehicles – whether through law or infrastructure or sheer necessity – people are willing to adopt them. Often it starts in niches (teen drivers, disabled users, budget-conscious families) and then expands. Even within the UK, signs of change are emerging. A “small car movement” could be brewing, as one recent report put it. Citroën’s UK launch of the Ami has attracted considerable interest – it was named Microcar of the Year by one magazine – and around 1,000 Amis have hit British roads so far. That’s a tiny drop in the bucket of UK car sales, but for an odd little quadricycle sold initially online and in limited numbers, it’s a start.
New micro-models are expected to arrive in Britain soon indicating that manufacturers see a potential market. Furthermore, the growing awareness of issues like “space equity” in cities is bolstering the argument for downsizing. “A shift towards smaller cars would make roads safer, give better space equity and use fewer resources in production,” notes Oliver Lord of the Clean Cities Campaign, emphasising that it’s not just about swapping big cars for small, but also about ultimately reducing car dependency overall. In some UK cities, policy is inching in this direction – London’s ultra-low emission zone, for example, inadvertently makes something like the Ami attractive because it’s exempt from charges and can scuttle about with virtually no running cost.
Changing gears: Will Britain embrace the tiny car?
Several firms have even trialled on-demand microcar hire in London and Oxford, betting that people might treat these vehicles like an alternative to bike-sharing or e-scooters for short trips.
For now, Britain’s city streets remain dominated by conventional cars, many of them larger than ever. The urban logic for ultra-compact vehicles is compelling – cleaner air, safer roads, less congestion, and mobility better tailored to actual urban travel patterns. Imagine cities with far fewer hulking SUVs clogging the lanes, and more cute little EVs or pedal-assist quadricycles quietly whirring around when a car trip is truly needed. Pollution would fall; parking spaces would free up; perhaps even the tenor of our streets would soften, with fewer aggressive grill faces at eye level and more human-scaled transport. Yet culture and habit change slowly. The UK’s slow adoption of these vehicles so far reflects caution and car conservatism: British drivers are waiting to see if these oddball contraptions are just a fad or a viable option. Many ask: Is it safe? Will I be mocked? Can I do everything I need with it? The early adopters – tech enthusiasts, city-dwellers with a second car, maybe some environmentally-minded drivers – are starting to provide some answers by using Amis and their ilk in daily life. If their numbers grow and the sky doesn’t fall, public perception could shift. In the end, Britain may come around not because of a sudden love for tiny cars, but because the pressures of urban transport demand it.
Congestion and pollution aren’t going away on their own. Cities may increasingly nudge drivers toward smaller, cleaner vehicles through policy – or drivers themselves may tire of wrestling 2-tonne machines through 5-mile-an-hour traffic. At that point, the humble microcar won’t seem so laughable; it’ll seem like a smart, pragmatic choice. As one French Citroën rep said of the Ami’s early success, “it’s a recognition that our transport habits and requirements are changing”.
Those changes are happening in UK cities too, even if our vehicle choices haven’t caught up yet. Perhaps the UK just needs a bit more proof – and maybe a nudge of policy – to overcome the old biases and give small wheels a chance. The next time you find yourself alone in a big car, inching through city traffic, ask: wouldn’t a smaller ride do the job? The answer, increasingly, is yes – and eventually, even Britain might say so.
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