For almost five decades, the Fiesta has been an icon: humble yet extraordinary in its ability to sell and lead markets. Yet, despite huge critical acclaim and commercial success – it’s the ninth best-selling car in the UK this year – the supermini has been killed off. And as the headman dries his axe, I’m struggling to comprehend the decision. It’s Ford’s second most popular model, and they’ve decided to drop it. To put this into perspective, Ford has turned off a tap that generated well over £300 million this year alone. Why? Because the Puma “crossover SUV” makes more money.

Let’s back up for a moment and remember what made the Fiesta a phenomenon. In the early 1970s, a global oil crisis had car buyers scrambling for something smaller, cheaper, and more economical. And I don’t mean the current cost-of-living crisis, with its profiteering energy companies and your mortgage creeping up £100 every month. No, I’m talking about inflation hitting 27% in 1975 – the kind of economic sucker punch where a mortgage payment equivalent to £700 today would have ballooned to £4,000 in just five years.

The Fiesta was Ford’s answer. Built in Dagenham for the UK and Europe, the first generation sold approximately 500,000 units in just a decade – as common as toilet paper and twice as essential. Over eight generations and 22 million sales worldwide, it became the best small car the world has ever known. I’ve owned nine Fiestas myself – plus two cars based on the platform. It’s a megastar: the Will Smith of cars, but with number plates and affordable monthly payments. Even Jeremy Clarkson once called it the best car in the world – before he changed his mind and bought a Ferrari 355.

What made the Fiesta so good? Its ability to adapt. From the beginning, it balanced practicality, comfort, technology, and value. In the 1990s, the Fiesta gained a reputation for fun handling. Models like the XR2i, RS Turbo, and Zetec-S delivered proper hot hatch thrills, taking the fight uncomfortably close to the French masters. Even in lesser trims, the Fiesta punched above its weight. Imagine paying about 50p (relatively speaking) for a car in 1998 that came with alloy wheels, leather seats, air conditioning, electric windows, a heated front windscreen, and ABS. If I designed the S-Class, I’d be sweating.

My first Fiesta was a middling Zetec model with windy windows and metallic paint. But it set in motion a chain of events that shaped my adult life. The 75bhp 1.25-litre 16-valve Zetec engine revved freely, tricking you into thinking it was faster than it was. Paired with a nimble chassis and perfectly judged steering, it was joyful to drive quickly. It was the car that taught me what really matters: fun. A car can have all the bells and whistles in the world, but if it’s boring to drive, it’s worthless. Ford nailed the basics: control weights, suspension balance, and a ride-handling compromise that feels like magic.

And that magic stayed alive through eight generations. The Fiesta consistently offered great kit and class-leading dynamics, even in lower trims. Hotter versions like the Fiesta ST became household names, while lukewarm options like the Zetec-S and ST-Line delivered affordable thrills. Look around your cul-de-sac – there are probably two or three Fiestas parked there right now.

So why has Ford killed it? Because the Puma makes more money. It’s a Fiesta in platform and spirit, but Ford can charge more for it because people believe they’re getting more car. Bigger equals better, apparently.

At the time of writing, an entry-level Fiesta costs £19,065. A base-model Puma? £24,415 – with fewer bells and whistles. But that doesn’t matter to the average buyer. A high driving position, perceived safety, and neighbour-impressing “SUV” looks are what sell. Whatever offers the most commanding view with the lowest monthly payment is the car to have.

And here’s the kicker: seven of the UK’s top ten best-selling cars are now SUVs or pseudo-SUVs. Guess what’s number one? The Puma. Forgive my frustration, but this isn’t progress. The Fiesta – the best small hatchback of all time – has been replaced by a heavier, thirstier sibling with less dynamic sparkle. And I can’t help but think we’ve all been short-changed.

Dismiss this as an old man yelling at clouds if you like, but the consequences for car culture are real. A teenager learning to drive in a Puma is far less likely to become an enthusiast. No would-be boy racer is going to Blu-Tack a poster of a Puma ST to their wall.

Soon, we’ll be surrounded by cars like the MG Z-Something, Nissan Joke, or SsangYong Funky Frog – bland boxes for an increasingly beige market. But every now and then, through the mist of mediocrity, you’ll spot a 2012 Fiesta 1.4 Zetec. A wave of nostalgia will hit you, and you’ll remember what we’ve lost: a car that transcended class and age, united generations, and made driving fun.

Farewell, Ford Fiesta. You deserved better.