Why an 18-year-old bought a 1972 Alfa Romeo Giulia

And so the hunt began for a rust-free, mechanically strong Giulia, but finding these attributes in an old Alfa is tricky. Those that were sold in the rain-sodden UK have usually long since rotted. These cars last better in warmer, dry climates, and there’s surely no place better to search than in the car's home territory of Italy.

I searched through the Italian classifieds and found a few contenders. I enlisted the help of my Italian-speaking sister, who chatted to some charismatic sellers over the phone, and then flew over to look at some cars. There were cheap rot boxes, then some expensive rot boxes... and then the car: a 1972 Giulia Super 1.3 with twin Dell’Orto carburettors, finished in the unusual Indigo Grey paint colour and oxblood hide inside.

The unibody was free of rot, the interior was in good condition and the mechanicals seemed decent. The salesman was an old-school mechanic who generously brought the price down to €11,000 (roughly £10,000), and I returned home delighted with our purchase. I did want to drive it home, of course, but going 1000 miles without incident seemed highly hopeful at best.

Goodwood revival

When the car arrived on the driveway of my family's home, it looked alien, so small, yet so bold in its new environment. I was itching to jump in and go for a drive, although when I did, I inevitably discovered a number of issues.

The car's delicate, wooden steering wheel was lovely to hold, but there were at least three inches of play in the system, while the engine idled at 3000rpm and the suspension groaned over bumps and lurched over when pushed. But even so, there was an engaging chassis beneath. There was also the obligatory breakdown – outside a prison, no less.

And so the rejuvenation began. I fettled the carbs, had the interior refreshed with new veneer panelling, and generally fiddled, tinkered and replaced to get everything looking and working perfectly. 

Besides this, I made some chassis changes, which I was the most excited about. A visit to Alfaholics in Bristol (creator of the wonderful, 240bhp GTA-R restomod) prompted the purchase of a lower, firmer spring suspension kit, GTA replica alloy wheels and a set of Koni dampers.

From start to finish, the transformation took just over six months and cost me around £3000. It will never be ‘finished’ as such, but it's close, and I’ve been driving the car every day for a while now – enough to give an idea of what it’s like to own.

There isn’t much else like it on the road. It feels narrow and upright but gives a panoramic view past its tiny A-pillars, and you’re swamped in terms of both size and performance by modern metal. It's an intimidating feeling at first, but I soon learnt to enjoy it.

Producing just 90bhp (confirmed by a dynamometer, to my surprise) in 1290cc guise, the Giulia thrives on revs, needing to be driven fairly hard to keep up with today’s traffic. But this is no bad thing, because the gearing is short and the motor is zingy with a lovely induction growl. The gearchange has an oily, mechanical throw and the pedals are perfectly placed for heel-and-toeing – something that's necessary to avoid wearing out the synchromesh.

Then there’s the sense of speed; when pushing, the noise and feeling of exposure in such a car makes 60mph feel like a ton, and this is something I've found is key to its enjoyment.

We go fast for the sensation of going fast, not for the numbers we see on the dashboard. Getting that rush at road-legal speeds is something that classics hold over newer stuff, where you can cruise past the speed limit without ruffling a feather.

In corners, the Giulia's steering gives that familiar, old-school chat. And although my car is now lower and stiffer than it was when it left the factory, there's still some body roll, which gives a great feeling of grip building up the side. With the car being so narrow (1560mm, compared with 1873mm for its modern-day namesake), it’s easy to pick your line through corners. And I chose skinny 175-section rubber (although the factory-fit Pirelli Cinturatos were thinner by another 10mm) to allow the car to move around at lower speeds.