THE POLITE OUTLAW
When you first lay eyes on this delicate Junior, you get the impression that what stands before you is a well preserved stock car. It is so clean and understated that you may overlook the few clues that give away the true nature of this car. You could be shocked to discover that this is, in fact, what you would call an outlaw. Maybe even more shocking is to learn that this very car, with its crisp green paint, spent quite a bit of time as a famous rat.
The first time we wrote about this Junior, it was in our Sunday Scramble coverage, where it was paired with the other famous South London rat, Charles’ Giulia. While the Giulia is still very much as you last saw it, the Junior shed its distressed skin for a fresh lick of green paint. Feels a bit like a boxer dressed after a fight, with some scratches still showing, in sharp contrast to the impeccable suit. The new look is very fitting. What Jamie pulled off now is a look that is just as happy to be surrounded by white roses as it is blasting up the twisties.
This car is a true reflection of the free spirit of its owner. A true Alfista, he shares the car on most of the meets with Jack, his trusted four legged companion, who is impervious to the sometimes capricious fumes of the Junior, happy to flap his ears in the wind while Jamie unleashes the Milanese music of the twincam.
In a warm summer morning, on the cosy streets of Hampstead, the evergreen Junior is just the spice you need to be instantly transported on the Mediterranean coastline. You could almost hear the waves crashing on the towering cliffs of Capri. After a brief run around these unfamiliar surroundings, Jack, the perennial co driver of the car, assumes his beloved position by the passenger window. The location got his seal of approval, so I can start shooting. Fittingly, I have to start by taking shots of him and giggle watching him pose. He recognises the shutter sound and gives me his best side.
These narrow streets make you appreciate just how compact Italian classic cars are. Alfas are agile and the sight of the metal dragon dancing around the not so vertical walls reminds me of spaghetti being pulled pulled out of the plate. Like the pasta being dragged by the rotating fork through the delicious sauce, the car captures the flavour of the surroundings through the fast changing reflections, it engages in an arresting dialogue by returning the light it receives and casting its own shadow. You simply don’t get this in wider spaces. Just like the feeling you have when you share a family lunch at a crowded long table, there is a certain conviviality that develops between the participants. The happiness is contagious. On moments like these, you realise how you fell in love with cars in the first place.
Maybe there is a lesson to be learned here. Maybe we should be making smaller cars, to run on narrow streets, close to the people. With a low beltline, so you engage with the passers by rather than isolate yourself from them. The moment we started to look at cars as armour from the environment we lost the very thing that made us dream about them in the first place. Long before mobile phones gave us the illusion of being constantly connected to our friends, cars were the only ones who got us to them. They take us to meet them in real life, to share moments of delight together, not just technically charged interludes. And cars get us to meet strangers on the way. Strangers that can often become your friends, if you start the relationship on the right terms. Perched on top of a bulky SUV, looking down on the people having their espressos on the small stools outside the local cafe, you are not likely to make the best first impression. Come in a Junior though, and you will be surprised how quickly people get over the inevitable petrol fumes and immediately smile and wave at you. It connects to society simply because its original design intent directed it in such a way.
As outlaws go, this one defies convention. Like a reformed offender, it can still irritate the purists and it can still inspire you to drive as hard as you can. It is still being used just as before and Jamie is at peace with the inevitable light damage that this can incur. You can’t help but agree with him. The real damage would be to stop enjoying the car as it was meant to be. And, once you do that, you need more than just some fresh paintwork to make up for the lost time.
