It’s a Garmin with a BMW dock.

Got any pictures of this 85 Spider anywhere out there? Would love to check it out.

My one warning; if you have no interest or (worse) fear about poking around under the hood, expect your car to start 100% of the time, or anxiety when strange noises begin to emanate for various parts of your vehicle, then an Alfa may not be for you.  Of course throwing money at problems is always a solution, so if you have a fat wallet and a good Alfa shop is within towing distance then your good to go.  

These cars where engineered between glasses of wine and heavy Italian lunches, so the occasional design misstep (or twelve) occured.  If you’ve ever dated an Italian woman you’ll understand that regular maintenance and preventative care as well as upgrades and love and care and tenderness are all required to keep the peace.  These vehicles were also manufactured between glasses of vino rosso and americanos.  Occasionally Giovanni may have run out of some critical part and grabbed whatever was within reach that fit -or sorta fit. So if you expect that your ’72 Alfa has all the parts a ’72 Alfa should,  think again.   Or even that your ’72 Alfa is actually a ’72 Alfa may be suspect. 

I own the complete Alfa Workshop manual for my vehicle and recently put it to good use. Mysteriously, after running perfectly for many months, my Alfa wouldn’t start. I am by no stretch an auto mechanic and am by no stretch rich, so have learned basic automotive maintenance -out of need and actual interest.  I understand that an engine (at the most basic level) needs 2 things to start: fuel and spark.  So my inquiry began with the ignition system.  After several attempts to reach my distributor cap I finally gave-in, drained half my radiator fluid, removed my upper radiator hose so that my hand could reach into the crevice when’re the distributor is located. All looked well so I proceeded to removed one of the spark plugs from the top of the motor.  I held the plug, still attached to its wire, within a 1/2 inch of the block and while a friend turned the key to crank over the motor saw (and felt) that all was well in the ignition system, a giant spark grounded from the plug to the block and then my hand -”Yup it works! Stop cranking!!”

I went on to check fuses.  I drained fluid out of my fuel line in case water somehow made in there.  I sprayed starter fluid into the air intake. I tested the voltage at the battery in case the mysterious fuel-injection wasn’t getting the proper voltage to function.  All of this with no results. Just a motor that kept cranking but wouldn’t start. After further perusal of the giant manual I discovered a diagram of my fuel injection relay and fuse.  
“Why would all the fuses be in the fuse box except for this very, very important one.”
My logical brain asked.  Then again I hadn’t had any wine and was not in that half lucid post-nap state required to understand the reasoning used in the design process of an Italian sports car.  The manual, seemingly (at times) also written in that half- trashed state neglected to explain where the physical manifestation of this engineering diagram resided.  It asked me to check the fuse and the voltage but not where it resided in the vehicle.  I checked and re-checked under the hood, I took apart the trunk, I poked around under the dash, I crawled under the car.  Nothing that at all resembled the diagram.  The trick at this point is to either have a very strong meditation practice or have inherited the patience of a saint.  Personally I take something -anything within recharge will do- and throw it very hard at a wall or floor, then resume the troubleshooting process.  

After cleaning up the plastic casing shards of my tape-measure I decided it must be hidden somewhere not at all obvious.  I crawled (for the 15th time) under the car and followed the wires from the secondary fuel pump up into the cabin behind the passenger seat.  I removed 4 screws, removed the rear shelf and there it was -insert holy organ noises and a spiritual glow here.  

I smiled, for the first time in many days.  I removed the fuse, it was not blown, and proceeded to follow the book’s instruction.  I put the leads of the voltage meter into the two halves of the fuse capsule as a friend turned the key….the Alfa finally started!!  I removed the voltmeter, the car shut off.  I replaced the fuse and tried again, vrooooommmm.  The incredible rumble of the 2 litre motor coming to life.  ”That wasn’t so tough.” I exclaimed cockily.  

Make the maintenance and troubleshooting of your Alfa part of the experience. Be curious.  Don’t be afraid to explore, to learn something new, to be defeated when using logical, linear thinking; and occasionally sit-down have a glass (or bottle) of wine and really put yourself in the shoes of an Italian automotive engineer.  Alfa ownership is an experience, stories and (mis)adventures included.  

Yesterday driving my Alfa, shifting through the gears, gripping the wood steering wheel, listening to the rumble of the motor, watching the inaccurate speedo bob about; I became overwhelmed with joy and re-connected to why I own an Alfa…. and a good set of tools.  

The reason why people install the LS6 or LS7 motor on these cars is because you can get around 500-700 hp on a car the weighs less than 3000 lbs with a very strong unibody chasis that handles like no other and is more reliable than any european sportcars out there. I feel bad for the owner of this car.