Alfa Romeo 4C Spider review: Flawed as f***

Ben Griffin spent a week with one of the world’s most impractical, flawed and overpriced cars, the Alfa Romeo 4C Spider, and now never wants to give it back.

“I hate this car, it’s so impractical,” she said, “but it is pretty.” An ex-girlfriend with absolutely no knowledge of cars had just summed up the Alfa Romeo 4C in the blink of an eye and I was a bit miffed. Turns out, all those years of being a petrolhead and writing about cars were a complete waste.

That’s hardly the statement you want to hear while cruising around in a £65,000 car that some petrolheads would give their right arm to own. Or their gran’s kidneys, in the case of Rory Reid.

But then there was some truth to her point. What exactly is the point of this Italian pocket rocket? Time to find out, hey.

Alfa Romeo 4C Spider: The sensible stuff

The Alfa Romeo 4C and its convertible cousin, the Spider, really are the antithesis of A to B motoring. For starters, the bonnet is bolted shut, the boot is woefully small and closing the hatch with bags of shopping in your hand is only impossible if you use your head. Which hurts as much as the eye-watering price tag.

Then there is the seating position, which would be more accurately described as the lying down, and the low ride height, which makes getting in and out more like an episode of Gladiators.

You best never it take shopping either because the mid-range layout means the engine will cook your food in eight seconds. And because it has shaken all the ingredients to bits, your groceries will look resemble an omelette.

Boy is it pretty, though. It’s a rare sort of pretty, too, because it manages to look inviting and dangerous without trying too hard or being too showy. No one would ever be mad at an Alfa Romeo, especially the 4C.

In any case, the Spider is arguably better looking because the removal of the roof gives it added presence. Thanks to global warming, you can also keep it stored in the boot more of the time as you soak up the sun and collect insects in your hair. Ironically, the awful multi-eyed arachnid headlights were ditched for the Spider, so every angle is now pleasing.

Step inside and it’s a bit like the moment when your favourite record starts skipping. It kills the moment, except here you can only embrace a weird mix of plastic more brittle than a frozen Daim bar and beautiful carbon fibre.

On the one hand it’s Italian, quirky and somehow feels spacious. On the other you feel like an Italian engineer raided the rejects bin. Don’t fall for the press photos, the reality is much less impressive.

That’s not to say the 4C Spider’s cabin is entirely bad. But some of the buttons are in weird places and there’s no where to store anything. Except a cup holder that will accommodate a coffee so small it will have evaporated by the time you get in (and are lying down).

Somehow though I rather enjoy my time in the cabin. The digital dial behind the steering wheel works nicely and the switch to go between driving modes looks menacing. Even better, it waits a second or so to initiate a change. Just in case you change your mind.

In the same way wearing a tuxedo is much more hassle than throwing on a t-shirt, it feels like an occasion just stepping in the Alfa Romeo 4C Spider and firing her up. This is a proper sports car with proper pedigree and none of the creature comforts beyond a stereo you can never hear over the engine and a heating system that can only manages lukewarm. Even in the summer.

Alfa Romeo 4C Spider: The roof

This is by no means a proper convertible because the gap you get between the windscreen and the middle of the car is about two inches. But it’s enough to blow the cobwebs out.

There’s no mechanical operation here to open and close the roof. Instead, you have to slide two plastic and rather stiff buttons to one side, releasing two metal pins. You can then remove it, roll it up and then hope it never rains with it down because you will be drenched by the time you put it back in place.

How exactly does it drive?

Somewhat tiring is probably the best description of how the Alfa Romeo 4C Spider drives on a normal road. A sensor linked up to an iffy digital display tries to make the lack of rear visibility bearable, but you trust it so little you edge backwards so slowly people think you have died at the wheel. As for checking your right blind spot on a motorway, you are going to need to see through solid objects or hope the mirrors are good enough.

Did I mention the lack of power steering? This was fine on my Fiat Punto 60S because that had the wheels of a shopping trolley, but low-speed and dry-steering require the sort of physical effort you would need to climb Everest in a wheelchair.

It also tramlines almost as badly as an original BMW Z4. It’s as if everything you drive past catches the 4C Spider’s attention because half the time it has a mind of its own, pulling left and right hard and without warning. Most modern cars have killed this problem, Alfa presumably decided to emphasise it.

That makes the Alfa 4C Spider somewhat tiring, although I have driven modern-day cars that are harder to keep straight at 70mph. It’s more to do with the fact you need to keep your wits about you at all times as each steering input really does change the direction with the sort of enthusiasm you get in a Caterham.

From a pound per horsepower perspective, the Alfa Romeo 4C Spider is horrendously expensive. But from a power per tonne rating, it’s in a league of its own. A measly 1.75-litre turbo provides 240hp and all it has to drag around is 895kg plus you. If you managed to get in.

Turbo lag is an issue, but progress is swift even if you catch the 4C Spider off guard. When it does kick in, you best be ready for wheelspin because it launches off the line with painful enthusiasm. Some cars are fast, but feel as if they want to hold you back. Some like this car feel akin to a lurcher on a lead that has just seen a rabbit covered in dog treats.

0-62mph is a four-second affair, which is enough to put hot-hatchbacks in their place and chase bigger fry in the straights before catching them in the corners. By weighing nothing and having a wonderfully rigid carbon fibre tub at the heart of the body, the 4C Spider is as fast as it is razor sharp in the corners.

In some ways the 4C Spider’s rawness means you have to be careful all the time. Pebble on the road? Slow down or risk losing the bottom half of the car. Bit of rain? Good luck keeping it straight with anything other than a feather resting on the accelerator.

On one rainy evening, I was almost facing backwards on my local road. I was only trying to park. Though it plays the daily driver card somewhat well, it gives up with the facade the moment you start being more enthusiastic with your input. This is a track weapon and as such anything that makes it less effective is irrelevant. The harsh ride is a prime example. As if you thought your comfort mattered?

It’s loud, too, in a sort of drone, ‘oh look my ears are bleeding’ kind of way. The turbo whoosh is almost childishly loud, the exhaust note flat until the revs pick up and the gears are reluctant to relax. Except when you do bury your foot, in which case they decide it’s time to drag their heels. Without a manual option, it is either go auto or embrace the paddles attached to the wheel. Oh and get used to the fact you need to have the brake on to go into reverse.

Caught in its web?

No one of sane mind should ever buy a 4C Spider. Or would. A Porsche Boxster will make you feel like a better driver, while a Cayman will offer absurd handling in a more livable package. The Lotus Evora, meanwhile, has a less eye-watering price and does a similar thing albeit without being as pretty.

It is as pointless as an air-conditioned body bag, then, but that makes it special. Because not only is it uncompromising, you will probably never see one on the road. Supercar performance with supercar rarity is something no other car can do at this price.

Not only that, every niggle, every fault, every annoyance and every swear word it induces all falls away like leaves in the autumn when you get out of it. Because on a good day with good weather and good conditions it will remind you how great man and machine can feel when working as one.

In a car so capable, the flaws end up making it feel human. We fight, we get jealous, we do stupid things. The Alfa Romeo 4C Spider is impractical, unforgiving and ridiculous. You form a bond because it’s imperfect and it never tries to be anything else.

“Pointless”, then, is exactly the right description. Except after a week I had decided the greatest things in life are often flawed and pointless. The roof of the Cistine Chapel didn’t need to be painted to keep the rain out, but I’m glad Michelangelo bothered. In the same vein, I’m glad Alfa Romeo made something so human.