Our Cars: Dan’s A110

Of all the UK’s fried eggs, though, Thruxton in Hampshire is the eggiest. And the fastest. In fact, it is this country’s quickest race track, a place even the most seasoned professional will eye up with some degree of apprehension. The point is, I might have chosen a less daunting place to drive my own car on circuit for the very first time.

And I don’t just mean my Alpine. Somehow and I offer no excuses for it, I have never ventured onto a race track aboard a car that belonged to me. Such is the privilege of a car journalist, I suppose. Always somebody else’s car, fuel, tyres and brakes, never with any expectation upon me to replace them should they be ruined.

So I was nervous as I pointed the A110’s pretty little nose at Thruxton’s pit exit. Heart beating a little faster, palms sweaty… It reminded me of the fluttery stomach and rigid shoulders we probably all felt when we first drove on circuit in any car, our own or otherwise.

How to approach this? These are my tyres and my brakes, and should the worst happen it’ll be my bank account that’s made to bleed. Nor did I want to drive home with a grumbling brake pedal because of warped discs, or with chunks of rubber being flung from my tyres. What a joy it’s been to not have to worry about those things for so long. If nothing else, this should be a very useful grounding exercise…

Even so, what a shame it would be to just potter about for a lap or two before diving for the sanctuary of the pit lane. Scary though this circuit may be, I’m not here to drive slowly. Commitment through the slower stuff, circumspection in the quicker bits. That should do it.

My tyres pressures are down at 28psi cold, because they’ll come up quickly once warm. I’ve been told more than once these cars can get lively on hot, overly pumped-up tyres. In fact, I know they can be a handful. I’ve driven Alpines on track several times before and have had a blast hurling them through sequences of slow and medium speed corners, using the soft springing and pronounced body roll – and the excitable weight transfer that comes hand in hand with it – to throw the car this way and that. Should the same thing happen through Thruxton’s quickest turn, Church, there’ll soon be a motoring journalist in tears and compromising photographs all over Instagram.

I’m in Track mode, which gives me full manual control over the gears using the paddles (the gearbox won’t shift up by itself at the limiter) and some stability control assistance, though not so much the car won’t slide. Through the tight 90-degree corners near the start of the lap the Alpine feels light and agile, responding to steering inputs without hesitation. Gearshifts are quick and sharp and the engine pulls heartily – though within half a lap I’m already craving more power and more reach at the top end.

I’m lifting early for the big stops, such as on the way into the tight chicane right at the end of the lap. The Brembos on my car, an optional upgrade, are very good on the road with tremendous pedal feel and for moderate track use they’re fine, though I’ve heard the pads will melt when given a real hammering. I’m not asking too much of them, extending the braking zones by backing out early on.

But brake longevity is a minor worry. It’s the two quick corners out the back, the ones that give Thruxton its fearsome reputation, that have my attention. The first is the endless Goodwood, which isn’t anything like as ballsy as Church but you do need to feel a stable car beneath you nonetheless. The 100mph Church comes next, an unsighted right-hander that will spit you out if you get the line wrong or carry too much speed on the way in. It should be a lift and no more, but to begin with at least I’m dragging the turn-in speed down with a squeeze of the brake pedal.

Everywhere else the A110 is fantastic, but in those two bends I’m struggling to build my confidence. On its skinny tyres the Alpine doesn’t produce face-bending grip, so it’s normal to feel it skate across the surface a little at either axle. What it does have in spades is balance, and with it adjustability. If the nose begins to wash out, lifting gently off the throttle brings it smartly back into line.

It’s the body roll and weight transfer that have me worried. You could toy with those things endlessly elsewhere in the lap, but here they’re trying my resolve. I turn in at speed and feel the car lean hard onto its outer tyres. As the weight shifts I half expect the rear axle to cry enough and let go. I’m driving as smoothly as I can, trying to make the weight shift gently rather than lurching suddenly.

Ultimately and at least for my tastes, the A110 is too softly sprung for those two corners. I’d need a flatter platform and greater stability beneath me – and therefore less weight transfer – to feel really happy turning into Church with only a quick lift. Or perhaps I simply need more laps in somebody else’s Alpine to build my confidence…

What I don’t want to do, at least as long as MV69 TKO is my everyday car, is compromise its ride comfort and poise on bumpy roads by fitting stiffer suspension. It may then be better suited to the small number of circuits with the characteristics of Thruxton, but I’d have to tour the country’s fried egg race tracks on a monthly rotation to make that sort of upgrade worthwhile.

Really, though, the deficiency is my own as a driver. When I offered former F1 driver and Ti contributor Karun Chandhok a few laps of Thruxton in my car (you’ll be pleased to read he didn’t hesitate; he was almost strapped in with his helmet on before he’d finished saying, ‘yeah alright then’) I expected him to report something similar about the body roll and weight shifting around in the quick stuff.

‘There was a bit of roll,’ he agrees three laps later, ‘but nothing too bad if you consider it also needs to be comfy to drive on the road.’ He’s right, of course.

‘I thought the engine was really nice,’ he went on. ‘Good smooth torque curve and enough power to have some fun. The steering response was very sharp and actually the front end of the car rotated very well. The brakes were also very good and I thought you could turn and brake very well into the corners. Upshifts were quick. The one thing that did annoy me were the seats, which didn’t seem to hug me as well as I would have liked so I felt like I was falling out of the seat.’

Karun drives with the kind of confidence and assuredness someone like me can only dream of. He isn’t worried about weight transfer or high-speed oversteer, because he knows he’ll get on top of it in a flash. And after you’ve qualified a Formula 1 car at Monaco, everything that might happen in an A110 does so at a snail’s pace.

You can watch a clip of Karun in my car in the Video & Podcast tab. You’ll see him driving at but not over the limit, nailing lines that I struggled at times to figure out, and correcting oversteer quickly but without ever losing forward momentum. He demonstrates not only how to drive an A110 around Thruxton, but how to drive on track full stop. He’s brave, too, carrying 105mph through the apex of the fastest corner.

I should mention my new Life110 gearshift paddles too. They’re longer than the standard items, particularly at the bottom which makes them much easier to locate when you have some steering lock applied. They’re also positioned a little closer to the wheel itself so you need only extend one finger to flick away at the paddle, rather than releasing your grip of the wheel. They have a more tactile feel than the stock paddles as well.

Towards the end of the day, I was relieved to see the fuel warning light blink on. I could park my car in the paddock and risk it no more. On the way home the brakes felt like new and the tyres had plenty of life left in them. I absolutely will use my car on track again, though maybe next time I’ll try to avoid the fried eggs.