I needed a small urban runabout and the only one that appealed was the Cappuccino, a car I had first sampled ten years ago. Its main attractions were a sparkling rear-drive chassis, perky turbocharged grunt, hard-top convertible roof, cheekily irresistible styling and a narrow body for unbeatable cross-London agility.

I sourced the Japanese import through a dealer friend, sight unseen. Initial problems were limited to a rattly gearknob (fixed with Blu-Tac) and an over-large steering wheel (fixed with the Demon Tweeks catalogue).

The Suzuki was hilarious, squeezing through gaps only bicycles would consider and baffling the motoring illiterati as the previous owner had removed the Suzuki badges. People were so amused and confused by the sight of the pocket rocket that they didn't seem to mind when I nipped into gaps in front of them.

My Cappuccino didn't have the optional power assistance offered on later models and the steering was a delight with plenty of feedback. The only downside was the effort required at parking speeds. Parking, of course, was laughably easy, and frequently I'd end up finding gaps which would have been denied to normal-sized cars.

The handling amused continuously with well-contained understeer followed by easily catchable power oversteer if sufficiently provoked. Wet grip levels were even more entertaining, but you had to be on your toes, particularly with the original Japanese Dunlops. Eventually, the rears needed to be replaced and the Pirelli P6000s that were available helped tame the wayward rear end, initially much to my disappointment, but I had to admit they allowed the car to travel faster.

The pint-sized triple was plentifully torquey in the mid-range, but notably reluctant to pull smoothly from below 3000rpm and breathless above 5500. After a service, which involved changing very worn spark plugs, the powerband almost doubled in width.

I bought the Cappuccino specifically for urban combat, but when finally let loose on the North Yorks moors during last year's Fast Fleet outing, it surprised and delighted everyone who drove it.

The micro-car never missed a beat for three years, but earlier this year there was a sudden loss in smoothness and power, followed by total power loss as the cambelt broke. The end result was 12 bent valves and a bill for nearly a grand. Predictably the mileage at the time was just short of 60,000 when the cambelt change was due...

But that was the only blemish on the Suzuki's record and the car was such a joy on every other journey that it is with a real sense of regret that I'm selling it. The reason? There's now a modern replacement. Can you guess what it is yet?