What to say about the Fiesta? Nothing that hasn’t been said already, that’s for sure. The car was with us for nearly 50 years. For some of those decades, its status as Britain’s best-selling car seemed almost unassailable. Some of that success can be attributed to value for money and non-stop availability – Ford made a notoriously slim margin on most of them, and produced each generation in staggering volume – but we can also ascribe some of it to the enviable legacy of a truly household name, and, yes, no little affection. 

It is virtually impossible, certainly, to have arrived at adulthood in this or any other recent decade and not known anyone who owned one. The Fiesta did not suffer the political characterisation of ‘Mondeo man’ because it was so ubiquitous that the phrase would have fitted no stereotype. Ford sold the Fiesta to all and sundry, men and women alike, parents and grandparents and their children, too. It is not unusual to encounter used Fiestas that have stayed in a single family for years, passed from one generation to another like stainless steel cutlery. 

Like the Volkswagen Golf, the car did a pretty good job of defying class distinctions. Perhaps it didn’t share the Golf’s knack of appearing at home against any backdrop, but for years it featured on many more long gravel driveways than you might imagine – additional evidence that it was simply considered the go-to model when someone (anyone) wanted a practical small car that would do its job uncomplainingly and without fuss. 

Filling that hole in people’s lives was at the root of its creation. No one needed to teach Ford about mobilising the masses – it literally wrote the book – but its European rivals pioneered the concept of downsized hatchbacks long before it arrived on the scene. When it did turn up though, partly driven by belt-tightening ‘70s buying habits, the Mk1 laid much of the foundation for the Fiesta’s enduring reputation.  

The result of the exhaustive and hugely costly project ‘Bobcat’, the transverse-engined hatchback (its maker’s first) was an instant hit. It was decent to drive, impressively spacious (for the time), cheap to mend and good to look at. Ford built and sold it globally. By the time a second generation appeared in the early ‘80s, it already had the feel of another Blue Oval dynasty, and subsequent versions would often vie with the Escort (and then the Focus) for the title of Britain’s biggest-selling car. 

Truthfully, of course, not every derivative was a humdinger. Ford didn’t always move at lightning speed (it was a decade before the car was available as a five-door) and some generations – notably the fourth – began to seem very drab versus newer, funkier rivals. But the Fiesta surged back into credit with the Mk7 and closely related Mk8, delivering 15 years of ‘Feel the Difference’ goodness to a whole new generation of customers, and producing an impressive tail-end to what is said to be a 22m global sales tally. 

Today, Friday, that tally comes to an end. We knew it was coming, Ford having quietly confirmed the inevitable late last year when it announced that the last factory in Cologne would be modified to build only battery-electric cars from now on. No doubt the Fiesta is as much a victim of changing buying habits as it is Ford’s requirement to make space for other things (not to mention the plumper profits of what comes next) and the manufacturer can probably afford to be sanguine about the changeover when it can point to the recent success of the Puma in taking its place. 

But we know better. Carmakers retire model names all the time. Precious few of them are reported by the BBC. Much as it was with the Mondeo, the end of the Fiesta nameplate reflects the fast-changing status of the industry and the world around it. For the better part of 50 years, you could be certain of walking into a Ford dealership and having your basic requirements for motoring met without question, like buying sliced white bread. What comes next will be pitched as walnut and almond sourdough in comparison. But Ford will not make it for half a century, nor sell it to what seems like everyone. Like the Fiesta, those days have gone.