The Alpine A110 was the seminal model of the marque in many ways, but you could be forgiven for thinking that this is not it. The A110 you might be thinking about is the blue Berlinette, a much flatter and sportier car than the odd duck we have here. The thing about the A110 is that it was the last Alpine model to have several body variants. So let’s get to know the obscure “family-sized” GT4 a little better.
The great thing about Alpines is that there aren’t too many of them, so they’re pretty easy to identify. Before I encountered this one earlier this year, I had never seen a GT4 in my life, but I immediately knew what it was. Because there aren’t many Alpine models to begin with, but even fewer of the older pre-wedge ones came with a back seat.
Alpine was still a relative newcomer in the early ‘60s. Having created their first A106 model in 1955 from the bones of the little Renault 4CV, the fledging firm found its footing with the Dauphine Gordini-powered A108 (1958-63). Not that the A108 sold that well, but it did hint at Alpine’s ability to create genuine sports cars, not mere 4CVs in fancy dress.
The A108 was also important because it broke new ground in two ways. It was the first Alpine to be licensed for assembly by another company (Willys do Brasil), and it was the first to be given body variants – namely a convertible and a “long wheelbase” 2+2 coupé with an extra 7cm between the wheels. Said 2+2 was a bit cobbled-together and odd-looking, as well as pretty cramped, so it sold very poorly. Alpine founder Jean Rédélé figured a more well-thought out and harmonious four-seater might catch the eye of the sports-inclined family man.
At the October 1962 Paris Motor Show, the Alpine stand displayed the new A110 range, which included said four-seater. The styling was done by Rédélé himself, in close collaboration with the Chappe brothers, top-level GRP body-making specialists involved with Alpine since the very beginning. Alpine had started to build some of their bodies in-house, but Rédélé always tried to keep the Chappe & Gessalin works busy in some way.
The A110 cabiolet carried over from the A108 unchanged; the berlinette (below) was heavily modified.
Compared to the other three A110 models (the popular berlinette, the discreet cabriolet and the extremely rare 2-seater coupé), the GT4’s wheelbase was 17cm longer.
Engine-wise, the early A110s received the rather modest but more modern 950cc 4-cyl. engine seen in the new Renault 8 and also located in the rear. Berlinettes received the souped up 55hp version, but the rest of the A110 range made do with 51hp (gross). However, all A110s did get disc brakes on all corners. So they may not have gone all that fast, but at least they stopped much better.
The A110 would evolve quite a bit throughout the ‘60s – at least in terms of performance. An 1100 and 1300 variant would be proposed in due course, mirroring the development of the Renault 8 Gordini. The GT4 would be able to top 190 by the end of its production run in 1969, but the really spicy 1300S and 1600 variants, though, were only available in Berlinette form.
But what we have here is one of the earliest GT4s still on the road – most probably the third car made, with the comparatively tame 950cc engine. So it’s not exactly fast, for an Alpine, but just like the cabriolet, the GT4’s mission was to broaden the marque’s appeal. So let’s have a look inside and see how that was done.
First impressions of the early A110 driver’s seat were usually positive. There weren’t too many recycled Renault bits strewn about, unless you really looked. The driving position was typical for a rear-engined car, with the pedals offset to the centre, but that went with the territory.
The star attraction was the back seat. It was a real innovation for an Alpine, as there was a chance the circulation to your legs might not be cut off, while there was a decent amount of room for your head as well. The problem, as I’m sure you’ll agree, was that whole bit in between: back pretty much vertical, knees under your chin – not a great position in terms of ergonomics. Anyone over about 1m65 (5’4’’) would have struggled to fit there in any case.
But that was still progress of sorts, and it meant kids and large dogs were able to travel along. So in theory, the GT4 was a good concept. The issue was the market context: how did it compare to other two-doors with sporty pretensions? Well, I thought you’d never ask.
* DIN rating
Thanks to its fibreglass body and optional (extra cost: FF1,450) 5-speed gearbox, the Alpine did have a few trumps in its hand. But in terms of out-and-out performance, it was outclassed by the slippery Panhard, the daring Bonnet and the brilliant Abarth. All two-seaters, of course – but the Triumph or the Saab could propose better rear seating for pretty money, and great street cred, as one had the smallest and cheapest 6-cyl. in current production, while the other had multiple rally trophies to boast about. Styling and luxury-wise, the Peugeot, the Simca and the VW were far more appealing.
Despite the GT4, the three Chappe brothers and their associate Amédée Gessalin did not find the amount of work that Alpine were sending their way to be sufficient. They were involved in manufacturing some of the GT4’s rivals (Panhard CD, René Bonnet), as well as many Le Mans prototypes, but eventually figured that the better solution was to launch their own model, which they did in 1966 under the CG marque. Those were basically expertly re-bodied Simca 1000s, and they sold decently for a few years until Matra joined Simca, causing the extinction of CG’s car line.
The GT4 was not a runaway success, but it did manage to get buy-in from one of Renault’s foreign JVs. Mexico’s Diesel Nacional, better known as Dina, locally assembled Renault Dauphines, Florides and Estafette vans, but from 1965 they decided to add the A110 range to theirs – including the cabriolet and the GT4. Other countries assembled A110s (Brazil, Spain and, oddly enough, Bulgaria), but only the Mexican branch ventured beyond the berlinette body style.
Very quickly, Rédélé realized that the cabriolet and the GT4 were never going to set any sales records, so absolutely zero further development time or expense were spent on those models. The sole external modification was the addition of a small Renault lozenge on the car’s nose in 1968, just prior to the end.
The A110’s star attraction was and would remain the no-nonsense berlinette, which remained the definitive Alpine even after the A310’s launch in 1971 and carried on until 1978.
Back when Alpine launched the A110, the small firm’s output was measured in dozens of cars per year. The GT4 and the cabriolet kept to this artisanal scale, while Alpine grew in size thanks to the berlinette. This means only 263 GT4s were made by Chappe & Gessalin between late 1962 and early 1969. A further 128 units were made in Mexico, allegedly, but that still doesn’t make for a very large cohort.
Alpine’s repeated attempts at turning their little rear-engined sports car into a usable 2+2 did not lead to many sales – nor did it keep the body-maker busy enough to avoid their devising a rival model. In the end, the only way to go was to start from a blank page, which led to the A310 – which was a 2+2 from the start. Turns out adding over 15cm of wheelbase and 15cm of roofline to a small sports coupé was not such a great idea. Who’d have thunk it, right?
Well, I had no idea about this version (or the others bar the Berlinette)….it looks alright, or at least it did to me until I started perusing your chart and then, yeah, some of the others such as the Simca started to draw me in, and for quite a bit less money too in that case. Although if there wasn’t a need for he rear seat, the Berlinette would perhaps be top of 5hr list again. A very interesting find indeed, and wholly unexpected, more or less as usual!
I was pondering the improbabilities of this find, when something reminded me that Japan’s economy is the world’s forth largest, and shared by the comparatively small number of 125 million-odd.
This means that there is, amongst those islands somewhere, a good number of properly wealthy people, here, perhaps, including someone who could out-bid a French person for this car. I don’t mean some nationalistic bollocks about this “belonging to France” or the like: I can’t bear that stuff anywhere. However, I’d wager that there’d be at least one person in its place of birth who’d have paid almost anything to have such a rare French car, but just doesn’t own it. This wealth factor does explain some of the incredible finds our man in Tokyo has spied, along with the Japanese lust for cars equal to anyone who reads CC.
So here it sits, in Tokyo, not entirely right in its proportions, perhaps, but still quite seductive, and really rather desirable to this Antipodean, who wishes it sat as put by me for spotting, outside my place.
Your comment got me curious as to the number of (and percentage) of millionaires in Japan. Wikipedia has a long list, the top 18 I’ve excerpted below.
Japan has plenty, although I might have expected the number to be a bit higher. But as I’ve said before, I think it’s some other Japanese qualities that drive their automotive acquisitions. As in, they are extremely knowledgeable and have very high standards. They appreciate the obscure, quirky and off-beat as well as the obvious collectibles. And they treat them with the typical Japanese off-the-scale standards of attention and care. The results are absolutely amazing, as T87 has shown us here over the years. I continue to be deeply impressed, all round, regardless if it’s this A110 GT4 or a Chevy G van. Now if only they would treat their older houses with the same respect and appreciation. But some cultural traits are just very deeply embedded.
“But some cultural traits are just very deeply embedded”. Indeed so. By that chart, Oz has about 2/3 as many millionaires as Japan, with 1/5 of the population – an increasingly-unevenly rich country indeed – yet any car money goes on paying very silly prices for any older Holden or Ford or Chrysler. Sure, there are some properly rich dudes who buy high-end old cars/racers, but by and large, the car culture here is pretty bogan (think kinder version of redneck?) Put it this way: there wouldn’t be a queue for this extremely sweet little Alpine!
Would have never guessed this was an Alpine without seeing the badge on the front. Great find.