There are probably a few companies who’d take issue with Lancia’s claim that the Y10 was “the first compact luxury car.”
Casting aside for a moment whether it’s even possible for a city car or supermini to be truly luxurious – space is often described as one of the greatest luxuries, and there’s not much room to lounge in a Y10 – we can think of a few cars that got there before the Y10.
The Renault 5 Monaco debuted a year before this 1985 ad for the Y10, for one, its supple leather-trimmed interior is just as luxurious in terms of materials as the Y10’s Alcantara and wool, and it had the electric windows claimed of the Lancia, too. We’d also stake a few quid on the Supercinq handling urban potholes better; ride quality has rarely been a luxury afforded to small Italian cars.
Then there are even older cars like the Riley Elf and Wolseley Hornet, the Vanden Plas Princess . . . in fact we’ve previously written about a bunch of them here, and the Y10 didn’t even cross our minds. Sorry, Lancia.
That’s not to say the Y10 was without merit, though, particularly if you enjoy boxy 1980s Italian industrial design. The Y10 was saved from looking perhaps a little too bland by striking details like the black-painted tailgate, and while Marilyn Monrobot in the advert is doing her (its?) best to distract us, the not especially notable side profile was at least very aerodynamic for one so short: a drag coefficient of 0.31 was among the better supermini efforts.
The Y10 was actually designed and sold as an Autobianchi in Italy, a follow-up to the characterful A112, but most will know it with Lancia badging, where it later spawned follow-ups that ditched the Y10 badge for ‘Ypsilon’, the Greek character better fitting in with the brand’s Beta, Delta, Gamma naming convention.
It fulfilled the city car role quite neatly, if never really selling well in the UK, but the availability of a turbocharged model did add interest – particularly as it was never offered in the related Fiat Panda. Its 85bhp output doesn’t sound much, but that was 40 horses more than the entry-level car, and given the Y10’s light weight, still meant more than 100bhp per tonne, for 0–62mph in 9.5 seconds. That really would be enough to ruffle a robot’s skirt.
Still though, luxury? Well, there’s still an argument to be made there – the Y10 really was quite nicely trimmed (something the Ypsilon continued), and if space really is a luxury, then consider that in being so small, the Y10 gave you more of it to use on the outside.
Must be less stressful driving a little car like this around a city than an S-Class from the period, mustn’t it? And if a low heart rate isn’t a sign of a luxury car, we’re not sure what is. Just don’t get too excited by any mirror-finish mechanoids you might drive past.
