Isetta 300 and FMR KR200: meet the bubble-car king

By Charlie Calderwood

| 13 May 2024

Classic & Sports Car – Isetta 300 and FMR KR200: meet the bubble-car king

“Once I have restored a car, I really can’t get rid of it,” says Dave Watson, looking down the long, thin garage that is home to an Isetta, a Messerschmitt and several scooters.

“So I tend to stick to smaller vehicles.”

Dave is a trained fabricator, welder and carpenter, and a fanatical restorer.

Whatever object grabs his attention, he renovates to what even he admits is a ridiculously high standard.

It’s more pocket, less rocket for the Isetta 300 (right) and FMR KR200 microcars

“There’s probably a medical term for it these days,” smiles Dave. “If it’s not quite right, I will do it again. And again.”

Anything even vaguely mechanical might be tackled.

Dave has just finished restoring a 1920s Michelin air pump to as-new condition – the project taught him how to cast rubber – but the passion for machinery began with cars.

“Isettas were still kicking around when I was growing up in the 1970s, and I have this image of one stuck in a neighbour’s garage,” he says.

Messerschmitt was allowed to make planes again after West Germany joined NATO, and it soon sold the bubble-car factory

Two decades later, in 1992, that fire relit when, looking to distract himself from the glamour of South Mimms services, he flicked through a car magazine and spotted a feature on microcars.

Dave went to the following National MicroCar Rally and saw what would become his 1959 Isetta 300, helpfully located just 20 miles from him in Aylesbury.

“It was yellow then, not blue, and I just took it apart,” says Dave.

“I welded in a new floor, but my skills at that time weren’t what they are now.”

This Isetta 300 was one of 26,000 licence-built microcars manufactured at the Brighton Locomotive Works

Don’t be fooled by the left-hand-drive spec of this Isetta: like most examples in the UK, Dave’s car is one of the 26,000 licence-built variants of the car put together at the Brighton Locomotive Works by the Isetta Motor Company.

“Some Isettas had the BMW badge, some didn’t,” says Dave.

“It was quite random. Apparently, it just depended on whether the factory had them in stock at the time.”

BMW had licensed the Isetta from Italian company Iso in 1955, making the British-built versions a copy of a copy.

Isetta 300s attracted less Purchase Tax in Britain because they have just three wheels

The Brighton concern soon realised the car needed to lose a rear wheel to achieve success in Britain.

Doing so allowed a Purchase Tax advantage, but four-wheeled variants were still made for export to Commonwealth countries.

Early British examples were left-hand drive, because the Isetta had been designed with the mass of the driver expected to balance that of the engine on the opposite side.

It was only by adding ballast that the Isetta Motor Company was later able to build cars in right-hand drive.

The single-cylinder engine’s valves are a weak point, so owner Dave Watson uses stainless-steel replacements

While still using BMW engines and panels, the Brighton-assembled cars substituted Lucas and Girling components for Bosch, and their chassis were built locally by Rubery Owen.

Dave didn’t enjoy his Isetta as it was for long. It has been a continual work-in-progress over the past 30 years, painted and repainted, with pieces repaired and replaced as rare parts were found or new skills learned.

“I tried to track down the sunroof material, because it has a particular grain pattern on it,” he says.

“The sunroofs reproduced by the Isetta Owners’ Club of Great Britain aren’t quite right.”

The Isetta 300’s tiny gearlever has a backwards ‘H’-pattern shift

“The word on the street was that the correct stuff was Volkswagen, from a Beetle or Karmann Ghia,” he explains.

“I wrote to this bloke in Germany and he had just five metres left.

“We got three sunroofs out of it – I let club members have the other two.”

Things have become easier since the advent of the internet, however, with the British club co-operating with its counterparts in the USA, South America and Germany to find parts and even get components remanufactured.

The attention to detail on this Isetta 300 is superb, even underneath

One-piece stainless-steel valves have been made to address the Achilles’ heel of the otherwise reliable BMW engines, which are known to drop valves at 15-20,000 miles, usually resulting in a conrod through the crankcase.

In between his work on the Isetta, Dave sharpened his skills on a 1958 Vespa and a set of antique petrol pumps before deciding he had room for another project – and that this one would be a pursuit of perfection from the off.

It needed to be a microcar if it was going to fit in his garage, and he fancied a Messerschmitt.

A narrow garage and an obsessive restorer: Dave Watson uses this workspace to perfect his microcars, alongside other projects

When the owners’ club magazine landed on his doorstep in 2006 with a one-owner-from-new 1962 KR200 for sale inside, he drove straight down to London the same day to buy it.

“The Messerschmitt was a real turning point, because it was a wreck when I bought it,” says Dave.

By then equipped with a lathe, a mill and years more experience, Dave rebuilt the car with fanatical attention to detail.

“It took me 11 years to do it, with an 18-month break in the middle when I became disillusioned.”

The Isetta 300 feels out of its depth beyond 30mph

Starting from a rusty shell, most of the bodywork was replicated, and Dave had two attempts at cutting the Perspex dome to its correct size.

The finished car landed the RAC Club Trophy at the Concours of Elegance.

Armed with his new skills, Dave turned back to the Isetta during the Messerschmitt’s long restoration.

His never-ending perfectionism with the car can be summed up no better than the fact that, despite it winning awards and being invited to appear on BMW’s stand at the Goodwood Revival in 2016, he was taking the body off the chassis just a few years later.

The Isetta’s original sunroof material was sourced from Germany

“We got chatting at The National MicroCar Rally a couple of years ago and someone said the chassis was the wrong colour,” explains Dave.

“Then we found other things that weren’t original.

“By the time I was driving home, I’d decided the body was coming off and I was going to have another go at it.”

Dave removed the body of his award-winning Isetta and set about rebuilding the chassis, sandblasting it and restoring to the original shape and finish.

The Isetta 300’s snug cabin is accessed via a front-opening door, and there’s a knack to getting in

Returning the car to a factory standard is his guiding principle, although he makes one exception: “I like things that don’t go rusty.

“Take the handbrake cable, for example: I’ll take it apart and replace all the little threaded bushes and things with stainless steel.”

Considering that Dave has done the same throughout the entire car, remaking fixtures, fittings and fastenings, it’s easy to see why his restorations take so long.

The Isetta 300 steers well but with lots of body roll

It’s not all show and no go, however.

Dave hands me the keys and I negotiate my way into the Isetta.

The technique, he tells me, is to open the door, stand on the floor in front of the seat, turn 180° on the spot and sit down.

It’s not exactly graceful, but it works.

Dave also collects microcar models and memorabilia

The party trick of the Isetta, beyond its front-opening door, is how its steering wheel moves with the panel as it opens.

You can even pull on the wheel to close the door – although it’s best to check it has latched by reaching over to the handle.

This Isetta starts on the button, emitting a delightful regular puffing exhaust note, like a snare drum being hit at double speed with a wire-brush stick.

With Dave following in his Messerschmitt, the Isetta quickly sets off once you’ve negotiated the backwards gearshift.

Microcars in miniature

Mounted on the wall of the car, simply sticking out of a slit cut into the lining, the small, dainty gearstick is an ‘H’ pattern, but with third and fourth on the left side, and first and second on the right.

It can be a bit difficult selecting first, but from there it’s actually a light and easy-to-use gearbox.

Three of the smallest pedals you will ever see sit in front of the driver, including a clutch that is almost binary – but after an initial stall or two you get the hang of it.

‘Dave has just finished restoring a 1920s Michelin air pump to as-new condition – the project taught him how to cast rubber’

Flying in the face of all the available advice, Dave rebuilt the gearbox himself.

“I thought I’d take the suspension off, take the engine and gearbox out, clean it all up a bit and just put them back in,” he says.

“I ended up doing an engine and gearbox rebuild.

“I had never built a gearbox in my life. People were saying ‘do not touch the gearboxes, Dave’. But I just couldn’t get it sufficiently clean.”

The FMR KR200’s domed canopy was inspired by Messerschmitt aircraft

Conventional Isetta wisdom is that these transmissions are bulletproof but complex, so best left alone.

Following an online guide, written by an American enthusiast, Dave did manage, but he admits it took three attempts to get it right.

“It’s just measuring things and shimming it up,” he says.

In fact, Dave found the clutch bearings were the wrong way around, and the gearbox is much quieter since his rebuild.

The FMR KR200 feels even more alien than Isetta

The speedometer reads to just 50mph, but, with no bonnet to speak of and the main crumple zone being your face, you never have the desire to go much faster in an Isetta.

It looks like a top-heavy egg and drives a bit like one.

Body roll is quite pronounced, and it’s the driver’s bravery that dictates corner speeds.

The steering is rather fun, though: there is little mass to throw around, so it’s quick and responsive, but with the passengers sitting on the front axle, it never feels too light.

The FMR KR200’s body is low and sleek

The single rear wheel is imperceptible, and the ride is reasonably comfortable.

It’s cheery, but best on slow village roads and city streets.

To get some meaningful comparison, I swap seats with Dave and step into his prize-winning Messerschmitt, one of the Isetta’s direct period competitors.

The KR200 doesn’t boast the extensive licensing history of the Isetta, but the eagle-eyed will have noticed that this is actually an FMR, not a Messerschmitt.

The two-stroke engine has ’bike origins

Once West Germany had joined NATO in 1955 and the former maker of ME109s was allowed to manufacture planes again, its interest in producing microcars soon faded, and in 1957 the entire Regensburg factory that had been building the cars was sold to a consortium headed by the car’s designer, Fritz Fend.

As odd as the Isetta’s front-opening door is, stepping into the Messerschmitt, with its Perspex canopy tipped open to one side, is utterly alien.

The driver’s seat has a raised setting to make ingress easier, but it’s unlike anything else in the automotive world.

The FMR KR200 has a swing-arm set-up at the rear

A ride on a miniature stream train, the sort you might find in a suburban park, is the closest thing to it.

If the faux snakeskin trim doesn’t confuse you further, the steering yoke surely will.

The KR200 does have three pedals, but its motorcycle-sourced powertrain is made obvious by the gearshift.

This time the gearstick is on the right-hand wall, and it’s essentially a motorbike’s sequential shift modified to work with hands rather than feet.

No snakes were harmed trimming the FMR KR200’s cockpit

This time I mustn’t stall, because the ’Schmitt struggles with hot starts on a warm day.

I pull the lever back to select first and pile on the revs from the buzzing two-stroke.

Like the Isetta’s, its clutch is a grabby little thing, but, once under way, the KR200 accelerates with surprising vim – and astonishing clatter, noise and smoke.

Its steering is completely direct, with no reduction gear, so small movements of the yoke have the car darting into and around corners.

The Isetta 300 (left) has 3bhp more, but the lighter FMR KR200 is nippier

It should be frighteningly unstable, but the Messerschmitt’s incredibly low height and long, tandem shape give it directional stability.

In fact, while its controls are utterly unlike most cars’, it does a much better job of handling like a car than the Isetta.

There’s no doubt that the Isetta is the best choice for popping round the corner to the shops, but if your journey involves going over 30mph and any strenuous cornering, the KR200 is the sure pick.

‘It has been a work-in-progress over 30 years, painted and repainted as parts were found or new skills learned’

You’ve probably guessed where this is heading, though.

Despite owning two of the best examples of these microcars to be found anywhere, Dave isn’t going to stop.

The Isetta’s blue paint isn’t exactly the right shade, he says, and he’s planning a respray of the body – although painting is the one bit he doesn’t do himself.

But there’s another project in the works, too: a replica Brütsch Mopetta, a three-wheeler open roadster of which just 14 were originally built.

“All the skills I’ve learned and developed over the years of doing the other cars will get put into that,” he says. “I’ll put it up on trestles and it might take me five years, it might take… Well, there’s no limit.”

Images: Max Edleston

Factfiles

Isetta 300

Sold/number built 1957-’64/30,000
Construction tubular steel boxed chassis, steel body
Engine iron-barrel, alloy-head, ohv 298cc single-cylinder, air-cooled four-stroke with Bing carburettor
Max power 13bhp @ 5200rpm
Max torque 14lb ft @ 4200rpm
Transmission four-speed manual, RWD
Suspension independent, at front by Dubonnet-type swing arms, coil springs rear quarter-elliptic leaf springs; telescopic dampers f/r
Steering worm and nut
Brakes hydraulic drums
Length 7ft 10in (2387mm)
Width 4ft 6in (1371mm)
Height 4ft 5in (1346mm)
Wheelbase 5ft (1524mm)
Weight 784lb (356kg)
Mpg 55
0-50mph 41.5 secs
Top speed 52mph
Price new £365 (1957)
Price now £15-35,000*

FMR KR200

Sold/number built 1955-’64/30,286 (all)
Construction tubular steel chassis, steel body
Engine iron-barrel, alloy-head, 191cc single-cylinder, air-cooled Sachs two-stroke with Bing carburettor
Max power 10bhp @ 5250rpm
Max torque n/a
Transmission four-speed sequential manual, RWD
Suspension independent, at front by swing axles rear swing arm; rubber torsion springs, telescopic dampers f/r
Steering direct, via track rods
Brakes cable-operated drums
Length 9ft 3in (2820mm)
Width 4ft (1220mm)
Height 3ft 11in (1200mm)
Wheelbase 6ft 8in (2030mm)
Weight 506lb (230kg)
Mpg 60
0-60mph 27 secs
Top speed 62mph
Price new £342 (1957)
Price now £15-35,000*