Art Form

(…) The CSS still sounds fresh and looks gorgeous. The seats retain the perfect dose of patina, a palpable testimony to its wonderful history.

It feels right as well. The driving position is as sporty as expected. The floor is high and the seat low, the usual with performance cars of this era. However, and unlike the smaller Giuliettas, the seats are reclinable which makes them way more comfortable.

Your legs are outstretched, and the pedal arrangement doesn’t suffer from the Italian trademark offset. The huge steering wheel sits close to my chest, but I don’t mind, as the steering requires some determination during manoeuvres and slow corners.

And that’s where the evidence that you’re driving a 65-year-old car ends. It feels incredibly modern. The engine pulls smoothly, the admission gasping air with a deep tone and the fruity exhaust note making it sound racier than you’d expect.

For an engine that is less two litres, the usable rev range is incredible, tolerating very low revs, but reacting to throttle inputs almost impatiently.

Even so, the real star of the show is the five-speed gearbox. Everyone who has driven a 60’s Alfa is familiar with the lovely sleek, long through shifting. Well, this is nothing like that… It’s a tight, very short throw gearshift, which encourages you to click franticly through the gears as fast as you dare, and it never fails on you. Only the kink up to fifth requires a bit more concentration, but there’s little use for it on these roads.

Caramulo mountains are a truly idyllic place, but more than that, they are an empty playground to any enthusiastic driver, with all sorts of corners over epic backdrops. However, these roads are often narrow, technical, hardly suitable for most 50’s Grand Touring cars. Except maybe for the 1900 CSS…

As I climb up the hill, the engine feels bigger than it is, which can be partly explained by the low weight of the body. The Superleggera label means the thin aluminium panels are supported by a clever tubular frame, keeping weight down to around a tonne. Combining that with the clever suspension, the CSS ends up being much more agile than it looks. Yes, it rolls, but not near as much as a Giulietta Sprint. There’s less understeer as well, as I force it round the hairpin that leads us to the highest point of the mountain.

However, it’s over the fastest corners that the 1900 really shines. As you pile up speed, the car feels even better: lighter, more alert to every input. Only the drum brakes feel week and out of place.

Whenever there’s a chance, I rev the short-stroke engine up to 5000rpm, and it is clear that it would happily sing up to the 6000rpm indicated redline, but I would feel guilty and there’s really no need for it, as there’s more than enough grunt all through the rev range and the gearing leaves no flat spots.

So why aren’t we told more often about how wonderful this Alfa Romeo is? Maybe it’s because the smaller Giulietta Sprint, launched in 1954, stole the limelight. Understandably, perhaps, as it was a more crucial model to the brand’s faith, being the first series produced Alfa Romeo coupé.

As it is, the 1900 SCC remains as a well-kept secret, although the fact that they’re so sought-after, is a clue that the word has gotten out before. I can’t help wondering how many of these cars get to be driven properly, considering its collectable status, and the fact that they look like precious sculptures.

Yes, those looks alone are a great part of its allure. Driving one for the camera in this scenery, as the sun drops down, feels like if you were handed a canvas and some brushes, and found out that, for a first and unrepeatable occasion, you are able to make art.

Feature originally published on Auto Italia magazine.
Photos by Rui Reis

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