Is the Alfa Romeo SZ the most terrifying car to own? | Thank Frankel it's Friday

So much so that around ten years ago I determined to buy one. With proven mechanicals and a plastic body, what could go wrong? I found a car I could just about afford and, just before I was about to ring the bank, I first called a friend who’s bought and sold classic Alfas for years. ‘That car,’ he said, referring to the actual machine I was about to buy, ‘is the reason I don’t sell SZs.’

He probably sensed my disappointment because he continued: ‘it looks beautiful, but it’s been parked in a car port for years and underneath it’s just horrible…’ He frightened me off, probably for life.

So I was keen to talk to the owner of the car I found last week who admitted a completely irrational love for it, explaining its many shortcomings including a bonnet whose fibres were so short it had to be built up layer after layer after layer until it became quite possibly the heaviest bonnet I’ve ever lifted. And what, I wondered, does he do about spare parts? ‘For the body there aren’t any. If you had a small knock, I don’t know what you’d do to repair it, other than getting something made for you from scratch’. The cost of which? ‘Unimaginable.’ And yet there he was, driving and enjoying his SZ. Sometimes the power of the human spirit truly is something to behold.

Then again, if you’d driven one, you’d know why. I did, very recently when I turned up at Max Girardo’s place to drive something else entirely and found myself roaming around Oxfordshire in the SZ his dad had bought as a new car. It was bloody wonderful.

And yet it’s quite hard to explain why. It may look like a bespoke, purpose-built sportscar but the need to turn the project from a green light to a production car in less than two years means it was anything but. It sits on the same platform as the 75 saloon which dates back to the introduction of the Alfetta in 1972, which means its aged De Dion rear axle layout is retained too. You’d think they’d at least bite a chunk out of a wheelbase designed to accommodate four adults, but they didn’t even do that, which is why there’s so much space behind the front seats.

In fairness its suspension was modified a bit, with the front torsion bars replaced by coilover spring/damper units which were also used at the back, and 16-inch split rim OZ-Racing wheels (7-inch at the front, 8-inch at the back) were covered in period by Pirelli P-Zero rubber.

But despite its lower, shorter body and absence of rear seats, the thermoplastic injected composite bodywork was so heavy the result weighed almost exactly the same as the 75 saloon from which it was derived, so the fact it was fractionally faster on paper was down to slightly better traction, a touch more aerodynamic efficiency and a mild 210PS (154kW) tune for the ‘Busso’ V6 motor, up from the 192PS (141kW) found in the 75.

I can’t quite explain the magic, but I guess that’s the magic of magic. It just works. I love the cabin with its luxuriant tan hide, I love the Veglia dials, because they are so similar to those used by Ferrari at the same time. I love the sound of that engine and the way it doesn’t bang you in the back like a turbo motor, or concentrate all its efforts for near the red line, but gradually builds every thousand revs to a rousing crescendo like all the best road car engines.

But most of all I like the fact that you place it anywhere. Even by modern standards it corners flat and fast, but the accuracy and feel of the steering and the confidence it imparts is nothing short of sublime. Drive one of these for even ten minutes on a decent road and you’ll wonder all over again the point of cars with six hundred horsepower when this much fun can be had on a third as much. The real hallmarks of a fine driving car – its poise, its balance, its feel – have nothing to do with what lies under its bonnet.

Even so, I now can’t ever imagine owning one myself, and not just because prices have risen far beyond what I could afford. More persuasively still, I’d be terrified of using it, knowing all it would take would be for one idiot road user to use a bit too much space, or not look where he was going, or pull out a side turning in front of me and I’d have a damaged SZ and not a clue what to do about it. A shame, really, but at least I was spared the pain and indignity of finding out the hard way.