
Yes, Cuba does have new cars, but the situation is far from normal. The automotive landscape is dominated by classic American cars from the 1950s and a vast number of Soviet-era vehicles. New car sales to the general public are extremely limited and prohibitively expensive. The primary source of new vehicles is through government-controlled imports, with models from Chinese manufacturers like Geely and Chery being the most common. The average Cuban simply cannot afford them; prices are often equivalent to decades of a state salary.
The core reason for this unique automotive environment is the long-standing U.S. economic embargo, which restricts trade and makes importing vehicles from major global manufacturers difficult and costly. While the Cuban government has periodically allowed private citizens to import cars, the associated taxes and fees are astronomical. For most people, keeping the island's iconic vintage cars running through ingenious mechanical repairs—a practice known as "resolver" (to resolve)—is the only viable option.
Recent years have seen a slight increase in the arrival of new cars, often through tourism-related ventures or as part of foreign investment deals. However, these are still a rare sight compared to the ubiquitous classic cars that have become a symbol of Cuban resilience.
| Vehicle Type | Common Brands/Models | Typical Acquisition Method | Approximate Price (Converted for Context) |
|---|---|---|---|
| Classic "Yank Tank" | 1950s Chevrolet, Ford, Buick | Inherited, Pre-Revolution | Value is in restoration, not purchase |
| Soviet-Era Car | Lada, Moskvich | Government distribution (historical) | N/A (historical context) |
| Modern Import (Chinese) | Geely CK, Chery QQ | Government sales/import licenses | $70,000 - $100,000+ |
| Modern Import (European) | Peugeot, Renault | Limited government or diplomatic channels | Even higher than Chinese models |
| Hybrid (Restored Classic) | Classic body with modern engine | Custom artisan work | Varies widely based on build |

From my visits to family in Havana, the idea of a "new car" is totally different there. You'll see a handful of shiny new Geelys, but they're mostly for government officials or tourism companies. For everyone else, it's about keeping the old cars alive. My cousin is a mechanic, and his entire job is swapping out engines from old Russian cars or even boat motors to keep a 1957 Chevy running. It's not about wanting a classic car; it's pure necessity.

As an economist, I see Cuba's car market as a direct consequence of the embargo and central planning. New cars are state-controlled imports. The prices are artificially high due to massive tariffs, effectively placing them beyond public reach. This creates a dichotomy: a tiny elite with access to modern vehicles and a massive parallel economy dedicated to maintaining a 70-year-old fleet. The ingenuity of Cuban mechanics is a forced adaptation to a closed market, not a cultural choice.

Walking through Havana is like stepping into a living car museum, but the smell of diesel and oil tells the real story. Those beautiful old cars are often running on improvised parts. Seeing a brand-new car is a real event. It's usually a Chinese model, and it stands out like a spaceship. The reality is that for the average person, buying a new car is an impossible dream. The energy goes into preserving the past, not acquiring the new.


