Alright, let’s talk about this Italian car thing I got myself into. It wasn’t some grand plan, really. Just kinda happened. I always liked the look of ’em, you know? Seen them in old movies, that sort of thing. Always seemed a bit more… dramatic than your average motor.
Finding the One (or the one I could afford)
So, I started looking around. Not for anything fancy, mind you. My budget wasn’t exactly Ferrari territory. More like… rusty Fiat or Alfa territory. Spent a good few weekends scrolling through classifieds, driving out to see heaps of junk. Some were just sad, paint peeling, smelling like wet dog inside. One guy tried to sell me an Alfa Romeo that sounded like it was gargling rocks. No thanks.
Then I stumbled across this little Lancia. An old Beta Coupe. Looked decent in the photos, price was low. Maybe suspiciously low? Went to see it. It wasn’t perfect, sure. Bit of crust on the wheel arches, interior seen better days. But the owner fired it up, and it actually sounded… okay. Ish. We haggled a bit, shook hands, and suddenly, I owned an old Italian car. What could possibly go wrong?
Getting Hands Dirty
First job: give it a good clean. Found about three kilos of old sweets and dust under the seats. Then I thought, I’ll do a basic service. Oil change, filters, plugs. How hard can it be? Well, turns out, pretty hard when every single bolt seems welded on by rust and spite. Spent an entire Saturday just trying to get the oil filter off. Ended up stabbing it with a screwdriver. Made a huge mess.
Then the real ‘fun’ started. Little things.
- One headlight decided to work only when it felt like it.
- The heater fan made a noise like a dying pigeon.
- Sometimes, it just wouldn’t start. No reason. Then, an hour later, it would fire right up like nothing happened.
I started spending more time tinkering than driving. Bought some tools. Spent hours reading confusing old manuals I found online (well, photos of manuals someone posted). Talked to guys in forums, trying to figure out the weird electrical gremlins. It’s like a puzzle, but the pieces don’t quite fit, and some are missing, and maybe they’re from a different puzzle altogether.
So, Was It Worth It?
Honestly? It’s complicated. It drives me nuts sometimes. Finding parts is a nightmare. Things break constantly. It costs more than it should. But… there are moments. When it’s running right, and you take it out on a twisty road, the engine makes that buzzy sound… it feels special. Different. It’s got character, I guess. You don’t just drive it; you sort of negotiate with it.
It’s still in my garage. Still tinkering. Still figuring things out. It’s a process, right? You learn a lot doing it yourself, mostly about patience. And maybe a bit about Italian cars too. They’re flawed, yeah, but maybe that’s the point.