History catches up with Alfa

Wednesday 11 March 2009

In a break with recent form I’m going to spend this column discussing something other than the Government’s recently announced scrappage scheme. Don’t worry, it’s a topic that I’ll be returning to like a wasp to a bin full of lolly sticks as the whole thing unravels. But, in the meantime, I find myself fascinated by the prospects of the new Alfa Mito. Not, I hasten to add, because the baby Alfa is a particularly original or imaginative car. I’ve only driven one briefly, around the block at a dealership where an old mate runs the sales team, so I’m certainly not going to attempt the full road test verdict. Indeed, on first impressions, it came across as a bog standard supermini, the driving experience sticking closely to the Fiat Grande Punto that it’s based on.

But the Mito has set me to wondering if there are some areas of the car market that are effectively off-limits to certain car brands – and if the baby Alfa finds itself stuck in one of them. The answer to my question might seem obvious enough: Rolls-Royce will never build a Toyota Aygo rival, and hell will have developed a perma-frost before you find a Mini badge attached to a seven-seat SUV. But beyond the extremes, there are plenty of grey areas as to which car companies can persuade us to buy which sort of cars.

Two decades ago buyers looking for a big car and not wanting to pay for an executive badge found themselves spoiled for choice: there was the Ford Granada, Vauxhall Carlton, Rover 800, the Peugeot 605 and various large Renaults and Nissans of such utter dullness that I can’t actually remember their names. Nowadays, with the exception of tiny-selling spudders like the Chevrolet Epica these barges have all died out as punters decided there was no point in buying something big without a flashy badge. Alternatively, consider the fate of the Mercedes A Class and BMW 1 Series, both of which have been selling about as well as cold, week-old cakes as buyers decided there was no point paying mid-spec Golf money for something that requires them to wind their own windows, however upmarket the brand. And the Mito is similarly far removed from Alfa’s comfort zone – largely because of what happened last time the brand tried to do something similar.

This was back in the ‘seventies, when the stylish Alfa Alfasud caused something of a splash when it was introduced to the dull British market. This was a small, handsome three-door with scintillating road manners, a rev-happy range of flat-four engines and gorgeous styling.

Unfortunately the Alfasud also had several tragic flaws, the most obvious of which was the fact that it rusted slightly faster than a nail in a bucket of saltwater. Despite its stylish design, the ‘Sud had been built by the lowest bidder’s second cousin and was actually made from low-quality steel that, if memory serves, had been supplied by the Soviet Union in return for the rights to produce the Fiat 124 as a Lada.

The Commies definitely got the best end of that deal – because the Alfasud’s delicately-stamped flanks would start to rust in a matter of months, sometimes weeks, when exposed to Britain’s damp climate. Some of them literally fell to pieces well before their fifth birthdays, and the only ones that survive now have spent most of the last 30 years parked in a tank of Waxoyl. It’s fair to say that the ‘Sud pretty much created the ‘grotbox’ reputation that has plagued Italian cars ever since. But while the Alfasud was a clever, innovative car, that deserved to succeed, the Mito is in essence nothing more than a Fiat Grande Punto in a party dress, and with a couple of grand screwed onto the pricetag to take account of the badge and extra chrome. I think it’s the Mito’s dullness that offends me the most. When I was growing up and pinning pictures of cars to my bedroom wall – sometime before The Beatles broke the big time – Alfa Romeo was an almost impossibly cool brand. Back in those days British cars were lumbering around with drum brakes, ‘crash’ gearboxes and engines that would shake their pushrod-operated valvegear to pieces if asked to go beyond about 3000rpm.

Alfa pioneered features like all-disc brakes, the five-speed gearbox and engines with twin overhead camshafts. As a kid, I didn’t know what any of those things meant – but I knew that the Alfa Giulia Spider that my car-dealing Uncle brought to our house sometime in the mid ‘sixties was the coolest car I had ever seen. And even when the rot set in, Alfas were rarely dull. Yes, rain would leak in, bits of trim would occasionally fall off and engines would sometimes self-destruct – but at least you’d look good by the side of the road with your bonnet up. But the Mito doesn’t even have looks on its side – the styling seems more contrived the longer you look at it, and the cabin’s Alfa-ness is barely skin deep once you’ve discovered the cheapo Fiat switchgear that underlies it. Then there’s Alfa’s attempt at a sporty driving experience – which basically translates into ride quality similar to that you’d experience if you went everywhere by kangaroo.

At the end of the day, it just doesn’t feel (to me) like a proper Alfa Romeo, it lacks the character that has kept the brand feeling special, even at its lowest ebb. And the idea that the Mito is a viable alternative to the modern Mini, which drives like a real quality item, seems optimistic to say the least.