Alright, let me tell you about this 1966 Alfa Romeo Spider I got my hands on. It wasn’t exactly something I was planning, you know? These old cars, they just sort of find you when you least expect it, or maybe when your garage has just a sliver of space left.
How It All Began
So, a buddy of mine, he knew this older chap who was clearing out his garage. And tucked under a dusty old cover was this Alfa. It hadn’t seen daylight in, well, let’s just say a long time. My friend called me up, said, “You gotta come see this.” I’m thinking, “Oh no, not another one,” but curiosity, she’s a cruel mistress, isn’t she? Went over, pulled back the cover, and there she was. A bit sad, a bit neglected, but you could see the lines, the potential. The price was, let’s say, persuasive enough for me to ignore the little voice in my head screaming about “another project.”
First Impressions and The Plan (or Lack Thereof)
Bringing it home, the first thing was a proper look-see. Underneath all that dust, the body was surprisingly okay-ish. Some of the usual Alfa rust spots, sure, but nothing that looked like a complete nightmare. The interior, though, was pretty rough. Sun-baked, cracked, the works. The engine? Well, it was all there, that classic twin-cam, but it definitely wasn’t about to fire up with a splash of gas and a prayer.
My initial plan was simple: get it running, make it safe, and just enjoy it as a driver. No concours restoration, just honest, usable classic. Famous last words, right?
Getting Stuck In: The Greasy Bits
The first big job was tackling that engine. Pulled it out, which is always more fun than it sounds. Then started the strip-down. Found a few surprises, as you always do. Some worn bits, some “previous owner specials” in terms of repairs. Sourcing parts, that was an adventure in itself. You spend hours online, talking to specialists, hoping you find that one little widget you need. Cleaned everything, replaced what was shot, and slowly, piece by piece, it started to look like an engine again. Getting those twin Weber carbs tuned just right, that took some patience, let me tell you. Lots of fiddling, listening, tweaking. But when it finally coughed into life and settled into that характерный Alfa burble, man, that was a good day.
More Than Just an Engine
With the heart beating again, I moved onto other systems.
- Brakes: Completely overhauled them. Non-negotiable on an old car. New lines, rebuilt calipers, the whole nine yards.
- Suspension: Replaced tired bushes and shocks. Made a huge difference to how it felt.
- Electrics: Oh, the joys of old Italian wiring! Spent a fair bit of time with a multimeter and a lot of head-scratching. Tidied things up, fixed some dodgy connections. It’s still not perfect, but it works!
- Interior: Couldn’t live with the disaster zone it was. Found some decent replacement seat covers, new carpets. Didn’t go crazy, just made it a nice place to be. That new old-car smell, you can’t beat it.
Bodywork wise, I tackled the worst of the rust myself. Bit of cutting, bit of welding, nothing too fancy. A friend helped with the paint – just a simple respray in its original red. Suddenly, it looked like a proper Alfa Spider again.
The Ups, The Downs, The “Why Am I Doing This?” Moments
There were plenty of days I’d walk into the garage, look at the car, and just think, “What have I gotten myself into?” Knuckles got busted, patience wore thin, especially when a “simple” job turned into a three-day saga. That one bolt that rounded off, or the part that arrived and was completely wrong. Frustrating is an understatement sometimes. But then, you’d have a breakthrough. Something would fit perfectly, an engine would start, a tricky bit of trim would finally snap into place. Those little victories keep you going. It’s a slow process, this kind of thing. You chip away at it, bit by bit.
The Reward: On The Road
Finally, the day came. Everything checked, double-checked. Took it for its first proper drive. A bit nerve-wracking, listening for every strange noise, smelling for anything too hot. But then, you find a nice winding road, drop a gear, and that little engine sings. The sun’s out, the wind’s in your hair (what’s left of it). That’s it. That’s the moment you do it all for. It’s not the fastest thing on the road, not by modern standards anyway, but it’s got character. It feels alive. Every drive is an event. Still got a few little things to sort, a couple of niggles here and there – these old cars are never truly “finished.” But it’s on the road, turning heads, and putting a massive smile on my face. And that, my friends, is what this hobby is all about.
