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Our Cars: Au revoir Alpine
4 years ago
After almost three years, Dan is bidding farewell to his A110
But MV69 TKO was never going to be an ornament. I had specified the lightweight forged wheels and uprated Brembo brakes because I wanted it to drive as sweetly as possible. I didn’t bother with blue calipers, a stainless steel passenger footrest or ‘A’ emblems on the flanks because I knew none of that stuff would make any difference to how much I enjoyed driving the thing, which was all that mattered to me.
I didn’t pay the £1800 or so Alpine was asking for a sports exhaust either, which means my A110 isn’t as tuneful as some others I’ve driven. It turns out you can buy the sound symposer that ducts real engine noise from the top of the motor into the cabin – this is the part that makes the difference, for occupants at least – for a third of the price, but I was never bothered enough to, well, bother.
I also specified parking sensors and the Focal stereo, plus handy little leather pouches that sit against the door sills and mean there is actually somewhere to put your phone, wallet, sunglasses and keys. It all added up to my perfect A110.
"Nobody who has read a single A110 review will be surprised to learn it is sublime on quiet B-roads; what’s less obvious is that it’s comfortable, quiet, easy to use and pretty frugal the rest of the time too"
So why am I about to sell it? Because the Sabelt bucket seats don’t adjust for height, at least not without a spanner set. It sounds absurd that one small, seemingly insignificant detail could be the difference between me holding onto the car and it being no use to me whatsoever, but it’s true. I’ll explain why in a moment.
I had fanciful plans to keep it forever, but in the end I’ll manage just shy of three years. In that time I’ve done 17,000 miles, that figure depressed somewhat by the once-in-a-lifetime global event that was just months away as I drove away from Manchester, lurking over the horizon like a hurricane nobody saw coming. For several months while we were locked down it barely turned a wheel. The pandemic was also one of the main reasons I didn’t manage to take the A110 back across the Channel for a trip to the Alps – the spiritual home of any Alpine – as I’d hoped.
But I did drive it on track (though only once, at The Intercooler’s first track day at Thruxton), I went for many memorable blasts in it with friends, plus weekends away with my other half, and it’s been my daily driver the entire time, used for errands in town, airport runs and long motorway slogs. Nobody who has read a single A110 review will be surprised to learn it is sublime on quiet B-roads; what’s less obvious is that it’s comfortable, quiet, easy to use and pretty frugal the rest of the time too.
"I have loved having it and even now I admire it for being so unlike the other cars in its class – lighter, smaller, less powerful, not as grippy and not as stiffly sprung, but always more fun to drive"
Apart from servicing, tax, insurance, fuel and screen wash, it hasn’t cost a thing to run. Nor has it ever let me down or even missed a beat. The two biggest failings I can recall were the rear screen heater not working (simply a loose connection and rectified in seconds) and an intermittent rattle from the driver’s door card that was fixed once but has recently returned. It doesn’t burn oil and only now do the rear tyres need to be replaced.
Litchfield’s full-body protection spray means the paintwork is still in excellent condition and I’ve managed to keep all four wheels well away from any nasty kerbs. I wasn’t happy that my car’s ride was quite what it should be during the early part of my custodianship, so I had its springs and dampers swapped for those that had come off an early Première Edition car, which helped.
Given what I do for a living, owning an A110 has actually been rather useful. It’s like a palette cleanser, reminding me what chassis balance, good steering, progression at the limit and compliance over bumps really feel like. And whatever piece of fearsomely expensive exotica I’ve been driving from McLaren, Porsche or Lamborghini, I have always been thrilled to get back into my little French coupé. I have also been able to write and talk about my experiences with it here and elsewhere (rather more than some people would have liked, I know!).
My lasting impression, though, will be of a quirky, lesser-spotted sports car that’s been a joy to drive and a pleasure to own. I have loved having it and even now I admire it for being so unlike the other cars in its class – lighter, smaller, less powerful, not as grippy and not as stiffly sprung, but always more fun to drive. I wrote when it was new that the A110 undoes the cycle of sports cars becoming ever bigger, heavier and more powerful, and several years on I still get a kick out of that.
What’s it worth today? I have some idea but I won’t know for sure until somebody makes me an offer I’m willing to accept. But I have already been bid 70 per cent of its original value in the trade which, after not quite three years, seems pretty extraordinary to me. With a fair wind I may get my full deposit back, which would effectively mean I’d rented an A110 for 34 months. The car will be listed on an online auction site soon if I don’t receive a decent offer beforehand.
But back to those fixed Sabelt seats… Our first child is due in the next few months, which changes everything. My partner, Imogen, has her own, more practical car, which would be fine if she could also drive the A110. But she’s much shorter than me and would need the driver’s seat set to its highest position, in which case I couldn’t even sit upright. And that wouldn’t be a problem if the seat could be adjusted at the crank of a handle or the touch of a button – less so when it’s a fiddly 20-minute job each time. It means she’d be stranded, contemplating a car she simply couldn’t drive, if I ever needed to take her car. If I was prepared to be utterly Machiavellian about it I could probably cling onto the Alpine, but that’s not me.
I’ve considered every plausible alternative to selling up. Buy some sort of cheapo Golf for family duties? Space at home is short and with nursery fees looming, I don’t fancy the extra cost. Trade my A110 in for one with adjustable seats? Tempting, but if I can’t have the Alpine that I followed down the line a few years ago, I don’t think I want one at all.
So my Alpine’s time is up. At least for now – I’m already wondering if at some point in the future I might be able to buy it back…
Photography by PistonHeads/Harry Rudd
