Alfa Spider 1750
Simple touches elevate the cabin of an
Alfa Romeo 1750 Veloce Spider above the Sixties sportscar norm, the body-coloured dashboard and wood-rimmed steering wheel accessorising the vinyl. Controls and dials cluster around me – the supplementary gauges point in my direction and the wandlike gearlever stretches out to meet me. I’m cocooned behind the upright windscreen but not quite comfortable. The steering wheel is a stretch away and the seat offers scant support. The Alfa is a fashionably tailored environment, just not one made to my measurements.
Setting off at a relaxed pace, the Alfa impresses me with its considered polish. The pedals act progressively, the brake and throttle reacting from the top of their travel and building with larger inputs, and I feel each gear slide home with a soft resistance that smooths out the lengthy movement. The ride is calm on coil springs and 14-inch wheels – an inch smaller than the 1750’s Duetto predecessor – and the engine note stays unintrusive below 3500rpm.
I venture further through the range and the twin-cam 1750 starts to sing. Volume and acceleration grow as the tacho climbs, splitting into gravelly bark as I close in on 5000rpm; the Spider loves to rev. The road twists and I find new accuracy in the Burman steering now I’m adding lock. The live rear axle is shimmying under load though, sending uncertain messages up through the seat, and I can feel the body pitch and roll through tighter corners. It’s a fluid movement but the message is clear – the Alfa prefers to cruise.
Though controversial at its 1966 launch, the osso di seppia styling boasts enough detail to form a design classic, the low-slung radiator grille, side scallop and wraparound rear lights sharpening a rounded shape. The original 1600 was the final design by Battista ‘Pinin’ Farina himself and a national competition saw the earliest examples unofficially christened ‘Duetto’.
Though the Spider looked like no road-going Alfa that had gone before, the unibody hid oily bits that were shared with the rest of the 105/115 Series range. Key features include double wishbones, all-round disc brakes and a shortened Giulia saloon floorpan, motivated by an alloy cylinder block twin cam engine. The Spider used a 1567cc variant with 109bhp until 1967, when it was upgraded to a 1749cc four. Renamed the 1750 Veloce Spider, the model gained revised suspension and wheels but was otherwise little changed. A 1.3-litre Junior Spider appeared in the same year.
More dramatic alterations arrived in 1970, when the iconic roundtail rear was replaced with a Kamm tail for the Series 2 Spider. A third and fourth generation followed and almost 125,000 Spiders were built by 1993, of which under 15,000 are roundtails and just 5600 are 1750 Veloce Spiders. Look at period prices and you’ll see why – the 1750 barely undercut the Jaguar E-type.
The curving bodywork should be your first concern when buying any roundtail Alfa Spider. Corrosion can be expensive to put right and wheelarches and floorpans are vulnerable, as are the complex sills. Formed from three layers that come together in a pair of seams, the construction should be evident and feature interior drainage holes. Simplified metal points to low quality rectification work.
‘The osso di seppia styling forms a design classic, penned by Battista “Pinin” Farina himself’
Mechanical components pose fewer challenges. A wide range of Alfa Romeo specialists operate around the world, ensuring that replacement driveline, suspension and interior parts are all still available. The Spider is a generally robust proposition too, though buyers should check for a smooth gearchange – the synchromesh on second and third gear is a weakness – and ensure that every electrical system is functioning correctly.
Would-be owners navigate a market that has risen dramatically in recent years. Restored and well-preserved 1750 Spiders – the most desirable roundtail variant – now congregate around or above £50,000, with road legal examples starting not far below. Cars are in high demand and prices are still rising. Expect to pay £45,000 for a good Duetto and over £35,000 for the best Juniors, with righthand drive establishing a 10% premium for all models. A decade ago, even the best 1750s rarely reached £20,000. We’ve all woken up to the little Alfa’s merits. The 1750 Veloce Spider cost serious sports car money when new; its subtle shape and ripping exhaust note make it every bit as valuable today.
The Dino 246GT looks like a Ferrari but it never wore the badge. Powered by a mid-mounted transverse V6, the 246 and its aluminium-bodied 206 predecessor represented a bold departure for the marque and Enzo hedged his bets by selling the new model under a sub-brand. As the first Maranello road car with anything other than a front-engined V12 configuration, the GT received striking bodywork by Pininfarina chief stylist Aldo Brovarone and his understudy Leonardo Fioravanti to match its innovation. Beneath the skin the new model featured a revised version of the Dino racing engine, a tubular chassis and double wishbones throughout, but take-up was slow. Just 152 206GTS were sold before Ferrari redoubled its efforts with the 246.
Despite sharing its styling with the earlier car, the 246 GT was mechanically transformed. Overall and wheelbase length both increased, most of the body panels were replaced with steel and gear ratios were revised. The biggest developments were saved for the engine bay, where the 206’s all-alloy V6 was swapped for an iron block unit with increased bore and stroke for an extra 14bhp. Ferrari had engineered a hit, selling 2487 GT coupés between 1969 and 1974. The 1972-on targa-top GTS took another 1274 sales.
I walk up to the Dino and the roofline barely scrapes my hips, preparing me to fall into the reclined fixed-back seat. The pedals are straight up ahead, knees slightly bent and a tiny three-spoke wheel skimming just above my thighs. It’s canted away from me and frames a binnacle that houses all eight dials. Turn the key, check pressures and temperatures, then hook the dogleg first.
A first dart past 3000 revs releases a guttural swell. It’s clear the Dino wants to go faster and I can’t help but oblige. The 246 flies to 5000rpm as the soundscape builds into a fluid melody with a metallic edge, and then I pull back for third. My hand accelerates towards the centre of the gate, the shifter sending back less and less resistance as it slips into the neutral.
The viscous feedback grows again as I find the next gear, telling me it’s slotted home. Practice only improves my shifts. A few miles later, I clack back across the gate from fourth to third with a welltimed rev match and the Dino falls seamlessly into the lower gear. I smile so wide they can probably see it in Maranello.
Corners inspire confidence, the Dino’s chassis and wheel alive with feedback. Before long I’m guiding the 246 implicitly, pivoting the car deeper into turns with the smallest corrections then unfurling the car out onto the next straight. I hold my nerve this time and take aim at 6000 revs. The triple-webered V6’s tone jumps and the exhaust hardens, underscored by the thousand sounds of a busy engine bay behind me. It’s not a Ferrari by name but the 246GT is definitely a prancing horse by nature.
Dino prices have softened recently, with presentable cars achieving £225,000 against a peak of £320,000, though buyers are still prepared to pay for the right specification. Right-hand-drive examples first registered in Britain sit £50,000 above lefthand-drive Dinos, GTS targas attract a £25,000 premium and concours condition adds around £50,000. Collectability also boosts
‘Before long I’m guiding the 246 implicitly, pivoting into turns with the smallest corrections’
values, cognoscenti paying extra for a Dino with the factory-fitted ‘chairs and flares’ package of Daytona-style seat inserts and wider wheelarches. Cars have been converted in the years since, so confirmed history is vital. With just two British-delivered machines, the 206GT crowns the market and can achieve £365,000.
Potential issues are consistent across the range. Budget period restorations can manifest in misshapen bodywork or an unsteady swage line, while some 246s have lost their original ‘mousehair’ flocked dash vinyl in favour of incorrect Alcantara. Some have been repainted, many Dinos gaining a coat of Rosso Corsa during the Eighties market boom, but hue has little impact on values. Some like those delicate lines picked out in red; others like anything but. I could park up in any of our quintet and enjoy them for their looks or their cabins alone: that’s the magic of Pininfarina. There are no losers here but two cars offer a drive as iconic as their styling. The Dino amazes me, its innovative layout and Ferrari pedigree delivering an unforgettable experience, and the 124 bubbles with simple fun. Climb behind the wheel and start living la dolce vita.