PHOTOS & TEXT: CHRISTER LUNDEM
A lot of stupid things start in a bar, so does this story. My friend Dan Løwquist and I had too many drinks in Torino - this is when life is good and sanity hides in the fumes from cold Gin Tonics. Suddenly he popped a question: ”Would you drive an Alfa Sud Sprint with me to Norway?” Any sane person with some kind of self-perseverance would politely say no and inform of the existence of professional car transport by truck. However yours truly is a passionate Alfisti and agreed to go on the mission. My answer was short: “Sure when?”
Fast forward two months and we are standing in an impressive garage in Carmagnola close to Turin. There are classic Dino´s and Ferrari´s everywhere; the tiny Alfa looks somewhat out of place. But it is shiny and sounds healthy. So far so good. We are lucky to know top class Italian guy Antonio Ponzo. He has gone through the car with his mechanic. He has worked on the car day and night and now suddenly the rear lights do not work. We try to investigate but conclude. – Who needs rear lights, after all we will drive at daytime. We feel bad for Antonio when we know he has really made an effort. After all it is not his fault that this 32-year-old Italian woman has temperament. Time is of the essence, so after some small talk we head out for the Autostrada.
The car works well and we are relaxed, but not for long. Just kilometres from Turin the charging lamp begins to flicker and suddenly goes full on. Dan and I are sweating. I feel a tiny drop of sweat running down my neck and finding unspeakable places. Small car, big men and spring heat is an interesting combination. We struggle through town and to the nearest gas station. I open the hood and caress the fuse box and voila! The light goes off. We have lost some instruments, but come on - after all it is an eighties Alfa.
The car works well and we are relaxed, but not for long. Just kilometres from Turin the charging lamp begins to flicker and suddenly goes full on. Dan and I are sweating. I feel a tiny drop of sweat running down my neck and finding unspeakable places. Small car, big men and spring heat is an interesting combination. We struggle through town and to the nearest gas station. I open the hood and caress the fuse box and voila! The light goes off. We have lost some instruments, but come on - after all it is an eighties Alfa.
Now look at the positive note. The engine sounds great, we are in a classic Alfa and our portable BOSE speaker are full of Pink Floyd. Our first destination is Freiburg. The navigators say 5,5 hours drive going by Chamonix and the Swiss Alps, our brain says 7 hours. A small misfire scares us a little, but finding hidden courage we decide to press on. It has started raining and the original almost unobtainable millimetre sized tires are a little slippery. But the Alfa is stubborn and gets to the summit on will. Back on the Swiss autobahn it seems to have accepted the new owners, the engine runs strong and the Italian Christmas tree has gone dark again. It pours down now, both of us are thinking of what must be a very wet fuse box by now - but all is calm. We narrowly avoid crashing into a Fiat Abarth close to Bern, and arriving in Freiburg in the dark we are happy to be alive.
Day two. Outside it is still grey and gloomy. The Alfa is not happy at all; she is running on three cylinders and smells of petrol. Even the exhaust warning alarm goes on when we drive out of the hotel garage. The signal lamps have stopped working but we decide to press on, towards Nurburgring and some friends. Maybe we drive to slow, because when we pass 120 km/h suddenly the Sprint gets an urge to go and finds the missing cylinder. Driving it flat out helps. We are greeted by Alfa fan Ron Simons at the Nurburg Ring. He loves these characterful Alfas as much as we do, and we think the Alfa love him too. Because now we find the button for the rear lamps and the engine is smooth. Nurburgring is a petrolheads dream, there are hot cars everywhere and sports exhaust and lowering is the rule not the exception. But the goal is Spa Francorchamps, we decide to drive there before it gets dark. The car struggles and almost stops on the inclines. We both agree now it is time to pull out the tools. Ours are non existent and in real life that means borrowing some tools from RSR Spa. After some trouble finding our hotel we end up in the bar at hotel De La Source with Frédéric Mayeur and Konstantinos Zannos. Two hard core motorsport fans with great humour. A few beers and a Belgium steak later we are fast asleep. The morning is spent in RSR Spa´s workshop. The fuel filter is full of dirt and we clean this and adjust the carburators. The cars sounds right and we park it for the day.
Day two. Outside it is still grey and gloomy. The Alfa is not happy at all; she is running on three cylinders and smells of petrol. Even the exhaust warning alarm goes on when we drive out of the hotel garage. The signal lamps have stopped working but we decide to press on, towards Nurburgring and some friends. Maybe we drive to slow, because when we pass 120 km/h suddenly the Sprint gets an urge to go and finds the missing cylinder. Driving it flat out helps. We are greeted by Alfa fan Ron Simons at the Nurburg Ring. He loves these characterful Alfas as much as we do, and we think the Alfa love him too. Because now we find the button for the rear lamps and the engine is smooth. Nurburgring is a petrolheads dream, there are hot cars everywhere and sports exhaust and lowering is the rule not the exception. But the goal is Spa Francorchamps, we decide to drive there before it gets dark. The car struggles and almost stops on the inclines. We both agree now it is time to pull out the tools. Ours are non existent and in real life that means borrowing some tools from RSR Spa. After some trouble finding our hotel we end up in the bar at hotel De La Source with Frédéric Mayeur and Konstantinos Zannos. Two hard core motorsport fans with great humour. A few beers and a Belgium steak later we are fast asleep. The morning is spent in RSR Spa´s workshop. The fuel filter is full of dirt and we clean this and adjust the carburators. The cars sounds right and we park it for the day.
The sound of historic racers tears up the Belgian countryside, we want to stay there all day but know that the stint home is too far. After looking at a race we head for Hamburg. The Alfa has a strong misfire now, but we grit our teeth and carry on. A freshly restored 2000 GTV needs assistance on the motorway, the Sprint steals some of the helpless GTVs DNA and sounds strong and willing again. In Hamburg we feel at home, it is just 150 km to the Kiel ferry now. Sitting in the ferry cabin we ponder about our adventure. The Alfa is till alive and we are maybe even better friends than before. 2000 km, 4 days and 5 countries. Some things went wrong but the trip was just right. I´ll do it again, I just need a second or two to say yes.
Dan are you ready?
Dan are you ready?
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