Alternately, a lift-off carbon-fiber hardtop is available for $3500; this panel is not stowable in the vehicle. The 4C, you see, makes no pretense of practicality.
What the Alfa does make is noise. And while the coupe can be unfortunately boomy and whooshy inside, suffering from nigh-unbearable resonances at certain rpm, the roofless nature of the Spider sends any unfortunate sounds to dissipate into the ether, leaving only the righteous bark of the 237-hp 1.7-liter turbo four.
Inside, the cockpit remains an exercise in forced intimacy. Refuse to take proper care upon ingress and egress, and your head may become forcefully intimate with the carbon-fiber windshield frame. The Spider is, however, slightly fancier than the hardtop in its basest trim—a full-leather interior is standard on the Spider. And thankfully, last year’s inscrutable Parrot-supplied stereo has been discarded in favor of an Alpine head unit, which we can at least figure out how to turn on.
On heaving, patched pavement—the nether regions of Carmel Valley Road, for instance—the high-strung chassis forces the driver to manage the road surface. Chuck it down a smooth road, however, and the (claimed) 2487-pound Spider’s a sweetheart. Apply throttle at a bend’s two-thirds mark, and the grunt builds progressively. You’ll be at full chat by the exit, the rear end will step out ever so slightly and tuck back into line in one smooth, progressive motion. Presto! You’re off down the straightaway, spitting upshifts. We did encounter a bit of spooky lightness hurling the car over the hairy crest on the front straight of Laguna Seca. If you do manage to bend the thing out of shape, it’s easier to reel back in than the short wheelbase, quick steering, and mid-mounted engine might conspire to suggest.
Four decades ago, the first crop of semi-populist European mid-engine cars offered frill-free interiors, a targa-esque roof treatment, and some oddball compromises to make the packages work. While Porsche has worked for 20 years to iron those out, Alfa has taken the opposite tack and left the kinks in. The 4C demands your involvement, whether that’s in removing the roof, figuring out how to pack light for a weekend jaunt, or tossing it through a corner.
Alfa acknowledges that the $65,495 4C will be cross-shopped, although they claim the car has no direct competitor. The only other carbon-fiber car under $100,000, the BMW i3, features a battery pack, a rear seat, and an optional two-cylinder engine. Porsche’s Boxster offers a power-folding top, a naturally aspirated engine, power steering, and is made of less exotic stuff. The closest thing to the Milanese bulldog is the departed Lotus Elise, but the spindly Brit didn’t showcase what FCA supremo Sergio Marchionne so memorably termed a “wop engine.”
But let’s be real here. Zuffenhausen’s good-at-everything-except-cup-holders Boxster is a real competitor. The Boxster S starts at $64,895, a shade lower than the Spider’s base price. Buy a Boxster, and the world will dismiss you as just another dude with a prostate that’s starting to bulge. Splash out for a 4C and they’ll assume you’re having a midlife crisis and go in for a biweekly cologne colonic. You can’t win.
As a track toy, the open Alfa is a fine little thing. As a throwback to the era of cramped, wonky Italian sports cars, it does a passable impression. As a boulevardier? The flinty ride would make effortless profiling on the Meatpacking District’s cobblestones largely impossible. Given that the open roof adds only 22 pounds and offers limitless headroom, though, if you’re going the 4C’s way, go Spider.