Curbside Classic Commentary / QOTD – What’s a Car You Covet Even Though You Know Better?

Side view of an orange Alfa Romeo Montreal

There’s a popular phrase: The heart wants what it wants. Most of us have done things for love (or lust) that we knew ahead of time were terrible ideas, but that we just couldn’t resist, from indulging in a rich dessert that’s guaranteed to cause indigestion to getting back together with a lunatic ex because the sparks still flew. The automotive world is of course full of imprudent temptations that you know full well would just strain your nerves and empty your bank account if you gave in — but for a few of them, you still would if you could. Here are two of mine.

Alfa Romeo Montreal

Take a Tipo 105 Giulia GTV platform, fit it with a racy all-aluminum DOHC 2,593 cc (158.2 cu. in.) V-8 derived from the Tipo 33, drape it in show-stopping Stilo Bertone concept car styling, and you have … a headache, most likely.

The great automotive writer Michael Lamm, who owned one for nine unhappy months in 2007–2008, described the Alfa Romeo Montreal in Chapter 14 of his 2012 “Unauthorized Auto-Biography” as “an intemperate ferret: aggressive, aggravating, high-strung, complicated and hard to live with.” Lamm’s car was in rough shape when he acquired it, and the mechanical complexity of the car and its SPICA injection system made it sorting it a nightmare. Lamm wasn’t impressed with the styling, which he called “clichéd,” or the performance, which he thought weak even when the injection and ignition systems were more or less in order. So, he gave up after less than a year, later calling the Montreal “my least favorite car.”

High front 3q view of an orange Alfa Romeo Montreal

I still would — though maybe not in orange.

I freely admit that the Montreal has an abundance of nonfunctional styling gimmicks, the workmanship leaves much to be desired, and the customary Italian long-arms-short-legs driving position is awkward if you’re not built like Doc Savage’s ape-like assistant Monk Mayfair. The chassis wasn’t quite sorted, the brakes were heavy, the ZF five-speed gearbox was notchy, and it wasn’t outstandingly quick even with 200 PS DIN in a 2,900-lb car. (Autocar recorded 0–60 mph in 7.6 seconds, the quarter mile in 15.4 seconds, and 137 mph on top, while burning 101 RON super premium at an alarming rate of 12.4 miles to the U.S. gallon.) As Lamm found, the Montreal is also a pain to repair or maintain, and is full of minor annoyances.

But, but, but: The Montreal is also a dazzling showpiece, an exuberant Op-Art confection like something from a Jim Steranko Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. comic book. When it’s running properly, the injected V-8 is one of the world’s most charismatic engines, burbling and growling rhapsodically in that intoxicating way that used to be the stock-in-trade of Italian cars. If the details were better-sorted, the Montreal would be completely irresistible even if it meant always having a vintage Alfa specialist on speed-dial — a car to make you look and feel like a rock star.

Paradoxically, that’s ultimately the real dissuader: Stylistically, the Montreal is a car for people who look like Milla Jovovich (and have Milla Jovovich money); if you don’t, there’s a very real risk of looking like a prat. Still — considered as an objet d’art, something to look at and listen to, the Montreal remains terribly tempting, for all its flaws.

Mazda FD RX-7

Not so very much different from the Montreal in size (it’s about 2 inches longer overall on a 3-inch longer wheelbase, but of about the same width and similar weight), the final Mazda RX-7 of the 1990s is significantly different in character. To my eyes, the 1992–2002 FD RX-7 still a knockout — lean, muscular, and purposeful — and it’s not nearly as frivolously indulgent as the Alfa. For the FD, Mazda trimmed something like 200 lb compared to the last FC RX-7, so the twin-turbo version, with 255 hp, was ferociously quick for the ’90s, and still respectably fast today. It’s also sharp-edged and responsive, with very strong brakes and bundles of grip, at least on a dry road. A serious driving machine.

The downsides, though: It was fragile (on early cars, even the paint was easily damaged). The twin-turbo 13B engine ran hot (tending to cook itself, its wiring and vacuum hoses, and the occupants). It was very thirsty, and it had some weak spots that need to be dealt with if you want to keep it healthy. (Allegedly — allegedly — the FD can be reasonably reliable if you upgrade a few problem areas and if you know how to know to properly maintain it, but do you really?) Also, as impressive as the RX-7’s dry-road performance can be, very sharp handling was a double-edged sword in the days before stability control, and wringing out an FD RX-7 without ending up sideways down a canyon or wrapped around a utility pole requires a non-trivial degree of driving skill.

There again is the weak link in the fantasy: I can’t drive like Keiichi Tsuchiya any more than I look like Milla Jovovich, and if I’m being even halfway honest, I have to concede that a new MX-5 Miata RF would have a much more viable fun-to-terror ratio while probably being far less hassle. (I talked myself out of buying an RX-8 years ago on a similar basis and don’t regret it.)

Even so, I wanted one of these awfully badly when they were new, and when I see an FD now, I can’t help thinking, “Aww, man, if only …”

So, the question for the group:

What’s a car you covet even though you know better?