Living with a very angry Italian: Behind the Wheel of an Alfasud Sprint Veloce

Hello, my name is Jack and I’m an Alfaholic.

It’s a functioning Alfa Romeo addiction, unlike many Alfisti who find themselves hoarding these motors like some middle-aged men hoard the Star Wars figures of their youth. Some days my addiction has me content with normal cars, though more nights than most it has me laying awake on Alfa forums looking for a 4-wheeled financial hole, chasing the masochistic joy of a broken car pissing oil in the driveway. Ok, maybe I’m exaggerating, though most would still think I’ve taken leave of my senses, yet all the headaches I’m told I’d face would be worth it for a driving experience delivered by one of Torino’s little beauties.

I had my first taste of Alfa’s at 18, co-driving a 1969 1600 Berlina Super TI taking part in the Targa High Country rally, bounding around the roads beneath Mount Bulla deep in the Australian alps for a couple thousand kilometres. A baptism of fire that you’d think would have me running for the hills in search of the nearest bulletproof moon-mile capable Toyota, but I was hooked.

When struck down with the most common addictions we face, friends would look to help, but my friends are enablers; akin to holding an AA meeting in a Dan Murphy’s. My best mate, even more severely bitten by the bug, recently acquired one too many of them for available parking spaces and decided to part with his 1979 Alfa Romeo Alfasud Sprint Veloce 1.5, throwing me the keys for a couple weeks before it finds it’s next home, giving me simple instructions: blow the cobwebs out and bring it back with an empty fuel tank.

I don’t need telling twice.

This is the first time I’ve lived with an Alfa for more than that long-weekends rally, let alone one as characterful, and it’s certainly a new experience. It’s worth setting the stage of what the Alfasud is, as this model seems to have fallen through the cracks in Alfa’s history whilst it’s brothers, the GTV’s and 105’s, are lauded by collectors.

The Alfasud was Alfa Romeo’s front wheel drive four-door family car for the 70’s, with production running until 1989 with the Alfasud slowly morphing away from its pedestrian birth into a two-door hot hatchback, the 4-door models being replaced by the 33 in 1983, leaving the Alfasud moniker to be used on the sportier coupe body shapes. The top-of-the-tree Alfasud Sprint Veloce burst onto the scene in 1979, the 1.5 litre 4-cylinder boxer engine fitted with a pair of twin-choke Webber carburettors sending 94 horsepower to the front wheels.

The Alfasud was the last car made solely under Alfa Romeo before the Fiat buyout, so this marks the end of the line of the independently produced Alfa Romeo story. The reason the Alfasud fell through the cracks and become largely forgotten to collectors is their propensity to rust, even more than the Spider’s or GTV you’ll find in the garage of an Alfisti. Today a well-preserved Alfasud Sprint Veloce is as rare as rocking horse droppings, and even passable-condition examples like this one before you are very, very rare cars.

This particular Sud has been under my mate’s custodianship for about two years, and it’s a real rat-bastard of an example. It’s a Sud, so a bit of cosmetic body rust is the rule not the exception, the seats are threadbare on the shoulder from years of throwing them forward to gain access to the backseats. The lambswool floormats are like Swiss cheese, the dash is cracked, yet mechanically the car is absolutely rock solid nose to tail. If anything, the cosmetic patina only adds to it’s charm as a drivers car and not a show queen, an old Alfa you can street park without thinking twice about another battle scar from the endless parade of touch-parking Ford Rangers.

I feared I was alone in my adoration of this characterful little runabout so I took it to visit a friend, another classic car enthusiast yet not one entirely sold on Alfa’s. Upon seeing it parked up, not even running, he immediately jumped in the raked drivers seat, arms outstretched and knees around the steering wheel, immediately coming out in Italian conniptions, going from 1st gear to 5th and making “WAAAH! WAAAAAAAAAH!” throaty engine noises between every gearchange, then bursting into cackles of joy followed by “I like this car way too much!”. Another poor bastard under the spell of Alfa Romeo’s. For his own financial benefit I failed to mention the car was coming to market, lest he rip his wallet out of his pocket before throwing it at me and refusing to get out of the drivers seat.

With a rear mounted gearbox for improved weight distribution and disc brakes all round, mounted inboard at the front for less unsprung weight, the Sud is certainly developed with performance in mind. It explains why it was chosen as the donor car for the infamous Giocotollo Group B rally car built in Australia in 1986. Even with a front wheel drive powertrain it’s a responsive, tactile drivers car with lots of feedback through unassisted steering. Whilst the engine is mounted on front of the front axel it’s low down to reduce weight transfer and body roll, so it compliments you and is easy to tame. The gearbox is exactly what you’d expect from a 70’s Alfa, low throws and short gearing built to accelerate quickly.

There’s modest power under your right foot but the old adage of “if you can’t drive fast with 90 horsepower, 900 horsepower won’t help you” rings true. It’s certainly enough to get yourself in trouble if you so desire.

The driving experience is entirely overwhelmed by the angry 4-cylinder boxer powerplant. A subdued rumble that builds quicky to a gloriously sharp, highly strung, brappy bark at 7,000 RPM. Lifting off downhill produces some hilariously loud staccato pops and bangs as the carburettors drops unburnt fuel into the exhaust, the sound reminiscent of the loud, hollow crack of thickets of bamboo aggressively striking each other in a windy storm. It’s difficult to describe its unique sound, so close your eyes and listen.

It’s an entirely antisocial driving experience to you and those around you, yet it’s one that makes people smile. On a cold-start the Sud requires a healthy stab of the throttle to get it to turn over, on a recent start up a mother with her primary-school aged children were playing outside next to the car. As it fired up the poor family all jumped out of their skins, I wound the windows down to apologise for the noise, explaining it’s an old car. Expecting a stern look and even sterner words it took me by surprise when she said “No don’t apologise, it sounds fantastic!”

Surprisingly, people respond very well to the Sud, nothing but smiles and thumbs up, even as it screams down the road. It seems that Sydney’s fed up with crackle-tuned VW Golf’s, but cruise around in an old orange Alfa and everyone gets a kick out of the novelty.

With so much personality I asked the owner why he had decided to part with it. He regales me:

“Other Alfa Romeo’s are the girl you marry; fiery and beautiful but also smart and capable, the whole package. The Alfasud Sprint Veloce is the crazy mistress who will light your hair on fire. You can’t marry the mistress.”

Sadly for my sake, the Sprint Veloce has made it’s way into the hands of it’s next custodian. I would be lying if I didn’t say that handing the keys back wasn’t an emotional moment, it had weighed on my mind to buy it for myself but it’s the right car and the wrong time. The question remains, has exposure therapy cured me of my Alfaholism? Not a chance, the continued late nights on Carsales looking at Spider’s and GTV’s will attest to that. It won’t be long until I’m whistling past the financial graveyard in an old Alfa, but I’ll have a very big smile on my face.