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Alittle red Italian convertible, an unoccupied winding road that passes through an idyllic valley and not a cloud in the sky. Like the opening sequence from a classic film, that scene was recently my reality for a couple dreamy hours.
After donning my favorite pair of dark tortoiseshell sunglasses and lamenting the fact that I’d carelessly forgotten my Dents driving gloves for a second, I slid into the driver’s seat of one of the sexiest cars of the 20th century. I ran my hands over the thin-rimmed steering wheel, wiggled the gear lever to make sure it was in neutral and adjusted the dash-mounted rear view mirror. (I may or may not have uttered “damn, I look good” upon catching my reflection.) Then, finally, I reached for the key — and came up empty handed. Apparently I’m not, in fact, the smoothest guy in the world.
Now keenly aware that the ignition is on the left in these cars, I lightly twisted the key and the 60-year-old vehicle came to life. The 1,290cc dual overhead cam inline-four cylinder idled smoothly. It was clear this thing was ready to stretch its legs. I was more than happy to oblige, but first I had to get comfortable with the quirks and peccadilloes associated with a classic Italian vehicle.
The brake pedal is Mariana Trench deep, gear lever action is vague. And, man, you’d better be patient with those synchros; otherwise, CRUNCH — suddenly you’re the jackass who’s ham-fistedly driving a classic car. Thankfully, this particular Giulietta has lived a charmed life, well maintained and cared for since it rolled out the factory door on June 17, 1957 in San Giorgio Canavese.
As you might imagine, the Giulietta is not a fast car by modern standards; still, I’ll be damned if the process of acceleration isn’t one of the most dramatic I’ve experienced. A curb weight of 1,896 pounds allows its 80 horsepower to feel like much more, especially coming out of corners. Then there’s the fact that this particular car has one of the most raucous exhaust notes ever to grace my ears.
It was clear this thing was ready to stretch its legs. I was more than happy to oblige, but first I had to get comfortable with the quirks and peccadilloes associated with a classic Italian vehicle.
