The Smart Crossblade Isn’t Good—But It’s Absolutely Amazing

The Smart Crossblade isn’t a car in any conventional sense. It’s a rolling automotive oddity, a two-seat open-air contraption that Mercedes-Benz built just 2,000 units of between 2002 and 2003—and it was never officially sold in the U.S. Yet somehow, one ended up at Vantage Auto, a dealership just 15 miles outside Manhattan.

When Jalopnik’s Andy Kalmowitz slid behind the wheel of chassis number 1722, he discovered a machine that’s as miserable to drive as it is mesmerizing to behold. The Crossblade is essentially a concept car that somehow made it to market: a stripped-down, rubberized capsule with no roof, no real doors, and a windshield so small it funnels air directly into your face. The Tridion safety cell—normally the backbone of a Smart’s structure—serves as a roll bar, but offers little protection beyond that.

Power comes from a 599-cc Mercedes-Benz M160 Suprex inline-three engine tuned by Brabus, producing 70 horsepower and mated to a notoriously lousy six-speed automated-manual transmission. Despite weighing just 1,600 pounds, the Crossblade struggles to crack 60 mph in over 10 seconds, and every gearshift is a jerky, clutch-slipping ordeal that feels like a beginner driver fumbling with a manual transmission—except this happens every time. The interior is a time capsule of early-2000s quirkiness, with water-resistant red seats and HVAC controls that do nothing against the elements.

Driving it on a cold spring day in New Jersey left Kalmowitz’s eyes watering and nose running within minutes. Yet for all its flaws, the Crossblade is undeniably magnetic. Its scissor-like door stubs barely qualify as doors, its stereo is a tuner-era relic, and its purpose remains as elusive as its design.

Originally priced at €21,000 (over $45,000 today), the 2003 example Kalmowitz drove is now listed for roughly the same amount. It’s a car with no practical use—unless you’re trying to dominate a local cars and coffee meet or outshine retirement community golf carts. But its real audience?

The ultimate quirky extrovert. During his short drive, Kalmowitz was met with more waves and thumbs-ups from passersby than he’s seen in a supercar. The Crossblade isn’t good.

It’s not even competent. But in a world of cautious, regulation-compliant vehicles, it’s a glorious, unapologetic mess—a reminder that sometimes, the best cars are the ones that defy reason.