I've been bitten. Badly.
- Feb 2, 2018
- 5 min read
Alfa Romeo 156 Review:
Finally. I’ve driven a proper Alfa. Now all I need to do is convince my girlfriend that they’re a worthwhile investment and my life will have reached its peak.
I’ve wanted a go in an Alfa for as long as I can remember. Our family’s always had them and I was bitten by the bug at an early age. When I was a tot, I’d listen to my Grandad’s misty-eyed tales of his old Sud Sprint Veloce. It was the only one in Northern England and he adored it. It was black with a black alcantara interior and a wooden steering wheel. It was everything he’d ever wanted, right up until the moment my Dad ploughed it into a bridge the day before his 18th birthday.
I was ferried about in a silver 156 2.0 Twin-Spark from the age of ten. I can remember every detail about it; it was the pre-facelift Lusso model, with a blue leather interior, embroidered with the Alfa Romeo badge. It had a CD autochanger in the boot, headlight washers and a small dent in the rear passenger door where some pillock ran a trolley into it at the local Tesco. I vividly remember wishing I was old enough to drive it and being utterly devastated when my Dad sold it before I’d had the chance.
Luckily, Dad persuaded Mam that another Alfa would be perfect for the family and bought this post-facelift 156 after the old Twin-Spark was retired. And she’s a masterpiece. She’s another Lusso, fitted with every option that the eager Italians of the early-2000s could think of. It’s got dual-zone climate control, a “highly sophisticated” dash-mounted computer (it was 2003, cut them some slack), electric windows all round, ABS and traction control. Which isn’t bad considering most cars in the early 2000s still had wind-up windows and tape-decks.
Right. Let’s talk about the 156’s engine. It’s a 2.4 litre, 20v, 5-cylinder turbo diesel with multi-point injection which, when standard, produces 175 bhp and about 280 ft/lbs of torque. This is comparable to the performance figures of the 2003 BMW 320d Sport and 2003 Audi A4 2.5 TDI, who’s market Alfa was trying to muscle-in on.
However, this particular 156 is different. It’s been breathed on by Autolusso of Penrith and is now far quicker than its German rep-mobile rivals, producing 210 bhp and upwards of 300 ft/lbs of torque. That means she’ll now do the 0-60 mph sprint in about 7 seconds and continue to batter your kidneys well beyond the standard top speed of 140 mph.
But these figures are meaningless. Where the 156 really shines is in-gear acceleration. It’s deceptively good at overtaking; pick any gear at whatever rev range takes your fancy, bury your foot in the firewall and wait for Armageddon. It’ll do 50-70 mph in 2 seconds. 70-90 mph takes 3 seconds. 90-110 mph takes just over 4 seconds. So please, BMW 320d Sport and Audi A4 2.5 TDI drivers of the world, stop looking smug. Reliability and build quality count for nought when you’re reduced to a receding blip in a rear-view mirror.
The 5-cylinder diesel sounds biblical. Once it’s warmed through properly (which you have to do with an Alfa engine otherwise you’ll end up with a fresh window in your engine-block) it sounds like a miniature V10 at full chat. You can thrash her right up to her 5,000 rpm redline, and she’ll thank you for it. I’ve never driven a diesel that revs as hard or sounds anywhere near as good in all my (somewhat short) motoring career. Alfa, you’ve built a right peach.
And it gets better. Once you’re bored with scaring yourself witless, take a gander around the interior. Just look, I’ll wait.
It’s stunning. The Vatican wishes it was this pretty. Look that steering wheel. Every single instrument is labelled in Italian and beams directly at the driver. The seats are sumptuous, supporting and comfortable. I felt important. I felt spoilt. All of the 156’s attention is aimed at the driver; the passengers are just dead weight. It’s none of the passenger’s business if I’m doing Mach 2. My mates don’t need to know what time it is, I’ll let them know if I feel like it. Revs? Nah, why does my missus need to know I’m turning 4,500 rpm?
I felt involved in the process of driving during my time with the 156, almost as if I was bolted to the chassis. Too many modern cars try to shield the driver from the outside world, with sensory numbing equipment such as electric power steering and feather-weight pedals. This isn’t the case here. I could feel the texture of the road in my hands and feet. I had an indication of where the front wheels were pointing. I could sense how the car would behave through a corner.
The steering is well-weighted and responsive, despite having a worse turning radius than the QE2. There’s a hint of under-steer if you’re driving her like a prat but, for the most part, she’ll cling to the road like a scared toddler clings to its mother’s legs. The suspension is supple and capable, being firm enough to efficiently dispose of a B-road whilst remaining pliant enough to not rattle your teeth out of your skull when you hit a pothole.
And the brakes. Christ. They’re good, if not a bit scary. Whilst touring the Cumbrian fells, a dim-witted tourist decided to park his car just after the brow of a hill, so he could look at a sheep. I crested the hill at [insert legal speed here] mph and was met with the arse end of Peugeot, and a dopey Essex toff gawping at some livestock. I promptly hammered on the 156’s brakes. The first inch of pedal travel came and went. Nothing. I pressed the pedal harder. Still nothing. Time has slowed to a crawl and I’m panicking about explaining to Dad why the Alfa’s in a crater of car parts in the middle of the Lakes. Only once I’d mashed my foot through the bulkhead, did the brakes finally take hold and bring me to a halt about a foot off the bumper of the Peugeot.
That’s not her only problem either. She runs like a knackered tractor before the engine’s warm, the temperature gauge is broken, the fuel gauge’s accuracy is entirely dependant on the car’s mood, the gearbox is a bastard to use when its cold, the first inch of throttle pedal travel isn’t on speaking terms with the engine and you can’t use the handbrake when the central armrest’s down. Oh, and the driving position is horrendous because the steering wheel isn’t above the pedals. You sit sideways which makes the muscles in your right leg seize up so, if your journey’s longer than a couple of hundred miles, you can’t walk when you get there.
But these are trifling flies in an otherwise faultless ointment. The 156, especially with this engine and these modifications, is a fantastic car and I find myself wanting one more than almost anything else on the market. I could prattle on for days about her, but I feel if I continue at this rate, I’ll lose what little readership I have.
Just go and drive one. See what I’m on about. You won’t be disappointed.
Luke Wilkinson 2018 ©
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