ON THE ALPINA TRAIL
The cars that announced the Buchloe tuner’s arrival: B7S, B7 Coupé and B9
Some gigs you just don’t turn down, and this one has led me to an imposing compound on the banks of Lake Geneva. It’s an ungodly hour on a cold late-winter morning and, far from the Alpine idyll, concrete and barbed wire surround us. We must have taken a wrong turn but, despite the entrance looking like a scene from The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, we are eventually waved through and pick our way between the railway lines and lorry tenders to where, we’ve been assured, we will see something very special.
The unit’s roller shutter clacks up in noisy protest to reveal a cavernous hall, empty but for silhouettes of row upon row of classic cars. If discovering a barn-find is like a nugget of gold among the silt, this is opening the vault doors of Fort Knox – ingot after ingot lined up against the darkness. Our eyes finally adjust to reveal the treasures within; from Bentley Continental R to Renault 5 Turbo 2, hundreds of modern classics stretch out in the gloom. But it’s the collection’s bent towards German tuning powerhouse Alpina that most excites.
To see one Alpina is a thrill, to come across a room of dozens is truly remarkable – more so considering the rarity of the examples before us, some of which are so special that they’re rarely
spotted outside the pages of period magazines and reference books. Incredibly, we’re given free rein, kids in a sweet shop, allowed to take the keys to whatever we like for one day only.
The temptation is to start at the beginning – but that exact point is up for debate. The earliest Alpinas, after all, didn’t even have four wheels. Like Citroën’s specialism in helical gears and Honda’s production of piston rings for future rival Toyota, Alpina’s early path involved the manufacture of something more mundane: typewriters. It wasn’t until the sale of the business that the former owner’s son, Burkard Bovensiepen, turned his hand towards automobiles. And, as with the most interesting endeavours, work began in a garden shed.
Bovensiepen started tuning cars with the arrival of the Neue Klasse in 1962, reworking the manifold and replacing the single Solex carb with a twin Weber set-up to increase power by nearly 10%. His modifications were so popular that he began to sell conversion kits, and within two years Bovensiepen had gained factory approval from Munich and began producing a range of supplementary suspension and handling enhancements.
Search as you might, you won’t find any of these early go-faster shed-built examples in the halls of this collection. There were plenty of them built, though: by the mid-1970s, Alpina was churning out as many as 300 cars per year and more than twice as many conversion kits, which were often fitted by inexperienced mechanics. It was the danger of shoddily converted home-brew cars damaging Alpina’s reputation that led to its focus on converting entire cars and, with BMW’S backing, brandnew cars were shipped straight to Buchloe. The shift was heralded in 1978 by the arrival of three new bona fide Alpina-badged models: the E21 3 Series B6 2.8, the E24 6 Series B7 Turbo Coupé and the E12 B7 Turbo.
It’s the latter of this early trio that became the most desirable of the marque’s models, and nestled in a quiet corner of this warehouse is a jaw-dropping Sapphire Blue Metallic example. In über-rare ‘S’ trim, too.
Alpina had been tinkering with BMW’S businesslike Marcello Gandini and Paul Bracqpenned E12 since it first went on sale in four-cylinder guise in 1972, but the highlight of the range arrived in 1978. And, as one of Alpina’s first complete packages, the B7 Turbo showcased what the firm could do. The humble 5 Series was treated to a hotted-up 2985cc sixcylinder M30 that now produced 295bhp thanks to lightweight pistons, reshaped combustion chambers, a hot camshaft and Pierburg
continuous-flow fuel injection, plus a KKK turbocharger that was more usually spotted in the back of Porsches. Boost pressure could be varied from 0.5bar to 0.9bar via a small dial between the front seats; the adjustability allowed the driver to turn down the power to 236bhp if low-quality fuel had to be used. The impressive spec sheet also boasted a dogleg five-speed Getrag gearbox fitted with close ratios and a limited-slip differential.
The pinnacle of the E12 range, the B7S Turbo launched in 1982, took things even further. At its heart was a turbocharged iteration of the 3453cc sohc six-pot found in the 635CSI and M535i, with full power rated at a dizzying 325bhp. The 3-litre car had already been crowned the world’s quickest four-door saloon, and the new version dropped the 0-62mph sprint time from 5.9 to 5.8 secs – less than half a second off the pace of a Ferrari 512 Berlinetta Boxer.
There’s no confusing the B7S Turbo with its cooking-model siblings, either. It might keep the same instantly recognisable silhouette, but its features are tough with an incredibly deep front spoiler, trademark turbine-style wheels and plastic boot lip that isn’t just there for show. It’s straight-laced but mean; its purposeful 16in rims fill the arches and help its muscular stance, which comes courtesy of Bilstein dampers and firm lowering springs. The ‘Deko’ decals that run along each flank, appended by its model designation emblazoned in gold, complete the look. Open the heavy door and the detail continues inside the cabin: it is decked out with all the trimmings including plush green and blue velvet-trimmed sports seats, and a meaty fourspoke steering wheel.
Walking deeper into the frigid storage facility is like stepping through Alpina’s back catalogue, and it isn’t long before we spot the unmistakable sharknose of the E24 6 Series, second of the complete models that marked Alpina’s move