It's an Ami, mate

As classics and supercars drift off and out of Bicester Heritage, the Scramble winding down, a man who's spent all day among all manner of exotica reaches to remove his sunglasses. A double take like some cartoonish film sketch plays out.

Silently slipping up the Main Drive is a vehicle he’s never seen before in the plastic, and perhaps never even on paper. Vehicle, because the Citroën Ami is not a car to the point that the official hashtag is #thisisnotacar.

Instead the Ami is a quadricycle – “wot, like a Reliant Robin?” Yes, intrigued passerby, but with another wheel. Like a moped but more sociable.

Officially the Ami can be driven by anyone aged 16 years old and above on a moped licence, and it can be driven on any road except a motorway. It’s a brave soul who embarks on a road with a speed limit higher than 30mph, though, what with its top speed coming up at a limited 28mph, so consider it a modern-day Austin Seven. Or, rather more pertinently, a less practical 2CV. It seats two, with hand luggage so long as the passenger doesn’t mind losing some legroom.

It’s far, far easier to start and drive and demist than a Deux Chevaux, mind. Insert the actual, proper, key, rest foot on the wide brake pedal, turn on the ignition, press ‘D’ on the bare floorpan beside your left hip and you’re away. It’s nippy off the line, though the delivery is electronically managed enough to deny any lurid getaways, and you’ll only find it available in left-hand drive.

It was never intended for the UK, after all, until 14,000 Brits registered their interest in buying one.

They can have an Ami taking up half a space on their driveway for less than £3000 down and far, far less than a TFL travelcard a month. A mere £20, in fact, and you are moving under your own power with 46 miles of range ahead of you, and no commuters within touching distance. Within three hours you’ll have a full battery again. Bliss.

Away from London or any other town and city commute, the Ami makes rather less sense. The ride isn’t bearable enough to cope with any really broken Tarmac for any meaningful length of time – get a 2CV for that and forget about any range anxiety.

Somehow the 2CV comes in second to the Ami in the charm stakes, though, and with a massive glasshouse it’s impossible to hide from the curious looks that unfailingly end in a smile being thrown its way. It washes away the cynicism of anyone who opens its doors – identical on each side for lower tooling costs, meaning the driver’s is a suicide door and the passenger’s is traditional – or peers through the 2CV-esque fold-up window.

It is another welcome chapter in the quirky and pioneering book of Citroën, and the more conventional cars of the 1990s seem a very long time ago now. The Ami follows on from the left-field likes of the Cactus, and an Ami Cargo is also on the way to push it even further. Its passenger seat has been swapped out for a luggage box and slot on top for working remotely.

For everyone? No. But it should be appreciated by all as another interesting branch to the future of mobility. And Citroën should be applauded for going through with it.