112 CARMAGAZINE.CO.UK | APRIL 2019
time. And the brakes. But by the end of a 10-hour day, no more than 20 cars
had passed us; that said, we’d noticed about the same number of Yugos
stranded on the hard shoulder, waiting for DIY talent, professional help or
the last rites. The poorer the area you’re in, the more Yugos you see. There
are precious few to be seen in big cities, but they still splutter in droves
through rural areas, ranking above donkeys, pre-war tractors and scooters
in the Serbian transport hierarchy.
Despite looking like they’d been rescued from a skip outside an old folks’
home, our seats were properly upholstered with horse hair and real springs
for what turned out to be decent long-distance comfort. Even though
aerodynamic efficiency was evidently not part of the design brief, the thin,
upright roof pillars give good all-round visibility. Keep your eyes peeled in
both directions, and the narrow-track lightweight displays an unexpected
swiftness not unlike the original Mini.
Like that iconic Brit, there’s not much in the way of mod cons. Nothing is
automatic, very little is adjustable, and the steering column doesn’t collapse
in a collision. You also get unassisted steering, a reverse gear that generally
won’t engage until the third attempt, a pushrod engine, fake fur cabin
inlays and a filler cap lock that will drive you crazy. Character building...
As we arrived in Kragujevac it was 10.45pm and 25ºC. Like the car, we
were feeling hot, exhausted and a little wounded. The Yugo was now stall-
ing at every set of traffic lights, limping on two or three cylinders to our
B&B near the Fiat factory that replaced the Yugo works.
The next morning, to no one’s surprise, the engine didn’t start. But the
silver lining is that this introduced us to a local mechanic called Rocky and
his many mates. The stout Serbian spannerman wrestled our Yugo like a
long-lost son. Chewing consonants with an impatient mutter, he held one
ear close to the engine while fumbling with greasy fingers on the carbu-
rettor until the idle speed dropped from 2000 to 750rpm. While he was at
it, the fuel tank was sealed, the wiring fixed and the handbrake travel re-
adjusted. In the meantime, his son had dashed to a nearby accessory store ⊲Also, the battery warning light suddenly took centre stage, the loose wiring
of the aftermarket radio sizzled the speakers to stubborn silence, the door
mirror kept being flattened by the wind, and the backrest adjuster of the
driver’s seat had seized in an excessively laid-back position. Everything else
worked spot-on, though, absolutely spot-on.
Austrians love to go shopping in Hungary, where salami is half-price, a
hairdo costs the same as a coffee back home, and dentists are so cheap you
can have a complete overhaul for the price of a single filling in Austria. But
this means a lot of eastbound traffic, and the Yugo started to overheat on
the stop-start A1, and then became reluctant to restart. So to avoid embar-
rassment we fled the highway and let Google Maps guide us along bumpy
but mostly arrow-straight B-roads last surfaced when the country was
still a monarchy. With little more than 50bhp at your disposal, overtaking
trucks is a leap into the unknown.
There was more overheating in a nerve-wracking three-hour tailback
at the Serbian border. The Yugo’s such a featherweight that it was actually
easier to get out and push the car a few yards at a time. When we eventually
got across the heavily guarded border, the Yugo was universally recognised;
later models are still an everyday sight here. Despite its justified reputation
for breaking down at random or rotting in double-quick time, there’s a
fondness for the Yugo. True, it’s not a quality piece of kit, but it oozes affa-
bility, simplicity and approachability. You can see why people got attached
to them.
Heading for the capital, Belgrade, the wipers were stretched to their
limits by a monsoon, which also gave the new Uniroyal rain tyres a toughIn the UK we call them Yugos,
but that was a name chiefly
deployed for export purposes.
The company behind the Yugo
badge was actually Zastava
Automobiles, which had its roots
as an armaments manufacturer
founded in 1853. Trucks and
Jeeps followed much later, and
in 1953 Zastava began building
Fiat-based cars.
Production of the Fiat
127-based 45 (which grew into
our 55) began in 1980, and
throughout the decade quality
and quantity both increased. But
political problems were brewing,
and turned into full-blown civil
war in 1991.
The cars were assembled at
the Kragujevac factory, which isin Serbia, but used components
from many parts of Yugoslavia- Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia and
Herzegovina and Macedonia all
contributed. What had seemed
like an excellent nation-unifying
policy in peacetime became
a supply-chain nightmare in
wartime, compounded by
sanctions, and output slumped.
In 1999, NATO bombs meant
for the armaments factory
instead caused severe damage
to the car factory. Production
limped on until 2008.
The factory was demolished
and replaced in 2012 by a Fiat
factory, where the 500L is
produced by a joint venture
between FCA and the Republic
of Serbia.
LIVE BY THE SWORD,
DIE BY THE SWORD
Inside Yugo
The Yugo was now stalling at
every set of lights, limping on
two or three cylinders
Lightbulb is as
close as you get
to over-the-air
updates