Unlikely Car of the Week: 1999 Hyundai Atoz

Yes, it’s time to salute the Hyundai Atoz: the micro-MPV you forgot existed, photographed proudly outside the Mendip Nature Research Station. Because nothing screams glamour like a gravel car park, a brick-built research centre, and a looming LPG warning sign.

Atoz by name…

Also known as the Atos, Amica and Santro (as in Saint-Tropez – yes, really), this was Hyundai’s late-1990s answer to the city-car boom. Pitched against the Fiat Seicento, Ford Ka, Daewoo Matiz and SEAT Arosa, it offered tall-boy packaging with styling that looked like a cartoonist had sketched an MPV from memory after a long lunch.

It was never going to make the cover of CAR magazine, but it was cheap, cheerful and honest transport for the late ’90s, at a time when Hyundai was still shaking off its ‘white goods’ reputation. The five-year unlimited warranty was still just a twinkle in the South Korean giant’s eye.

And the name? Officially a contraction of “A to Z.” Unofficially, perhaps an attempt to dodge jokes about “not giving Atos…”

…basic by nature

This 1999 survivor is about as base-spec as they came. Black plastic bumpers (now fashionably fading to grey), skinny 13-inch wheels and an interior that makes a Soviet bus stop look luxurious. No glorious yellow fog lights as fitted to the Atoz+ (boo), but at least you get four doors, manual windows, and fabric seats with a confetti pattern straight off the 1990s local bus service.

The seller insists it’s “faultless and needs nothing.” Everything works, it’s wearing four new tyres, and the oil has been changed. The MOT history is remarkably clean, and there’s “no rust” – which might be the rarest feature of all.

Gospel according to the seller

“A car can’t break if there’s nothing to break.” Hard to argue with that logic. This Atoz has power steering and not much else. No air-con, no electric windows, no central locking. Just a gearstick with a tired gaiter, three pedals, and a 1.0-litre chain-driven engine. The upside? With so little to go wrong, there’s a fair chance you’ll get home again.

It’s even managed to survive a cosmetic Cat N incident eight years ago, which presumably involved that big dent on the driver's door. Patina, innit. Proof, perhaps, that you don’t buy an Atoz for its looks, you buy one because it still has all four wheels attached.

Inside the toybox

Climb inside and you’re greeted by a sea of grey plastic. The dashboard is a sculpted blob, the radio (no cassette player glamour here) looks like it was pinched from an Argos catalogue, and the speedo optimistically runs to 120mph. No rev counter, of course, because no Atoz driver has ever needed one..

The seats, though, are a delight: colourful flecks in the fabric, upright as dining chairs and surprisingly well-padded for something designed to venture no further than Frome or Glastonbury. There’s even a cupholder between the front seats. A rare treat in 1999, and one of the few concessions to luxury in this otherwise monastic interior.

The unlikely appeal

Nobody saved these. The Atoz wasn’t a car you cherished, it was a car you drove until it dissolved, then you traded it in for another appliance. Which makes this survivor genuinely remarkable. For £1,000 – fixed, no offers, please – you’re not just buying a car, you’re buying a curiosity: a 1990s Hyundai that’s somehow dodged scrappage.

Is it worth the money? Well, £1,000 doesn’t buy much these days. And if you want cheap, cheerful and almost painfully earnest motoring, this is it. The Atoz has always been the underdog; the Daewoo Matiz got the style, the Fiat Seicento got the chic, but the Hyundai quietly got on with the job.

Final thoughts

Unlikely Car of the Week? Absolutely. This Atoz earns the title on location alone; who wouldn’t want a car photographed outside the Mendip Nature Research Station? Add the grey bumpers, the three keys and the seller’s bulletproof logic, and you’ve got a worthy addition to the Petrolblog back catalogue.

Form an orderly queue. Not that you’ll need to; there’s plenty of space inside an Atoz, just not enough glamour to go round. You could even wear your finest top hat at the wheel.

ShedSeal™ rating: 19/25

Here's how the Hyundai Atoz stacks up:

• Tat factor: ★★★★☆ (tall-boy red, bumpers fading nobly to grey, no yellow fog lights – boo.)
• Survivability: ★★★★☆ (26 years in, Cat N shrugged off, MOT history cleaner than it has any right to be.)
• Shed appeal: ★★★★☆ (£1,000 for a working time capsule? Almost daft enough to make sense.)
• Comedy MOT history: ★★☆☆☆ (remarkably tidy, which only makes the next fail feel inevitable.)
• Petrolblogginess: ★★★★★ (photographed at a nature reserve, three keys and proudly “not a car you buy for its looks.”)

Certified under the ShedSeal™ Code of Conduct (revision 0.0). Photos courtesy of the brave seller and Auto Trader.