Alfa Sprouts Anew

Sydney Morning Herald

Friday September 26, 2008

Tony Davis

Maybe it was just coincidence that the first car I parked next to was an old Alfa. Or maybe it was a gift from the Patron Saint of Convenient Story Openings.

It was a 75 sedan from that low, low Alfa ebb of the mid-1980s.

The 75 - for those who can bear to bring it to mind - was boxy and misshapen. Worse still, it had a weird black plastic strip around its waist that made it look like it was a poorly executed sandwich of two completely different cars.

Someone at the time aptly remarked that it looked like a Soviet copy of an Alfa. It was built like one, too.

Anyway, this forlorn relic sat next to "my" brand new Alfa Romeo 147 as a reminder that it isn't that long since Alfas were ugly, dated, unreliable and ergonomically incomprehensible.

Maybe that's why I grew up thinking an "alpha male" was one who was prepared to put up with more than the usual number of breakdowns.

But that's water under the bridge ... and onto poorly primed metallic surfaces.

Today's Alfa Romeos work much like other people's cars. They tend to keep going until you turn them off, the body panels aren't see-through and they fit together as if each were designed for the same car as the one beside it. Most of the controls are where you or I would put them, rather than Federico Fellini.

While these improvements were being made, the company rediscovered what had made Alfas so appealing in the 1960s and '70s: style and panache.

Surely the 156 is one of the most beautiful and original designs of the past decade or so. The 159 updates the theme and does it just as beautifully. And the 147 shows it is possible to make a small hatch that is pretty and distinctive and to give it a pleasing sporty character without playing the "my output is bigger than yours" game.

I didn't have just any Alfa 147, mind you. This was a 147 Ducati Corse.

A what? Isn't a Ducati a ... so, just how many wheels does this Alfa have? And how Corse is it?

The answer to the first question is four and, leaving aside the Ducati badges, fancy wheels and a few other tweaks, it's a standard enough 147.

It was produced to celebrate the success of the MotoGP team and its lead rider, our very own Casey Stoner. After all, Alfa is the official vehicle supplier to the Ducati team (odd in itself, since it doesn't make trucks or motor homes).

Beyond the spin, of course, it's all about marketing. If they don't kill themselves first, Ducati riders will likely breed. At that point, Alfa would like to sell them a weatherproof, self-righting, child-capable vehicle.

Alfa buyers just might want a motorcycle at some point, too, though that's probably a lesser consideration than the Italian car maker buying influence among the much younger and funkier two-wheeled crowd.

Fiat has used similar logic to put its name all over Valentino Rossi's Yamaha, but an Alfa-Ducati tie-up appears a more logical fit.

What's really odd, though, is that the co-branded four-wheeler is powered by a diesel engine.

Yes, a diesel. Aren't Alfas and Ducatis all about high-revving petrol engines? And aren't diesels noisy, smoky things much like, er, any Alfa of the 1980s?

No and no. It's a thoroughly modern turbo diesel with 127kW. It even has a "power" button that changes the engine mapping for more mambo, something I've not seen before on a diesel.

The car gets along snappily, partly because it's red, and partly because it has a heap of torque.

The fun factor is boosted by a sophisticated torsion sensing Q2 diff, which presumably is just like a Q1 but doubly so. The diff does what it's supposed to - maximise grip - though there's a bit of torque steer thrown into the bargain.

The build quality impresses and the equipment list includes cruise control, audio functions on the steering wheel and plenty of other conveniences.

I could find only one reminder of the dark days: a handbrake lever that is hard to reach when the armrest is down. But compared with Alfa idiosyncrasies of yore, it's just not in the same class.

I'm working from memory but the 75 probably had its handbrake lever in the glovebox.

And the glovebox was probably in the boot.

Tony Davis's latest book is Choke! Sporting Flops, Fiascos And Brain Explosions.

© 2008 Sydney Morning Herald

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