Alpine-Renault A110

When I think of French cars, I think of many things–funky durability, quirky comfort, even slightly odd performance. In every case, the distinctive Gallic eccentricity baked into French cars gives them an extra flavor that I find delicious. Like an aged Roquefort bleu cheese, French cars have a strong flavor and are certainly an acquired taste; but after you are accustomed to the flavor, everything else tastes bland.

By those standards, the Alpine-Renault could be considered stunningly conventional. It is sleek and elegant; hunchbacked profiles and awkward angles are notably absent. The A110’s one possible quirk is its rear-engined layout, but given the fact that the car is a contemporary of the Porsche 911, that barely qualifies.

If I’m belaboring the point here, it’s because I want to be completely clear–unlike so many Gallic classics, the Alpine-Renault A110 isn’t special because it’s French, it’s special because it’s one of the great cars of all time. The A110 matches strong performance with drop-dead gorgeous looks and, most compellingly, legendary status in the motorsports world for its dominance in international rallying. This is not just another case where I’m featuring a weird car because I’m off my rocker.

Alpine and Renault essentially mirrored the AMG/Mercedes relationship, only 20 years earlier. Alpine started as an independent manufacturer of race cars and sports-car specials based on Renault mechanicals; it would come closer and closer into the Renault orbit over the years, eventually handling Renault’s motorsports activities before the larger company finally absorbed it.

The A110 was Alpine’s crowning achievement. It was totally unlike most French cars–or any other car, really–of the era. When it debuted in 1961, most cars were big, blocky, heavy, and bathtub-shaped. The A110, on the other hand, was small, light, and smooth; it was exotic without being inaccessible.

Even more remarkable for the time, it was quick without relying on a muscular V-8. Over the first several years of production, the A110’s small 1.1- and 1.3-liter liter, four-cylinder engines put out meager horsepower in increments as low as 50 horsepower. Over time, grunt grew to as much as 170 horsepower from 1.8 liters; that’s impressive, considering the technologically advanced VTEC four-cylinder in my 1994 Acura Integra GS-R produced exactly the same power from precisely the same displacement.

The A110 made the most of that power. It was small, light, and agile; shorter and less wide than a Ford Aspire, and nearly a foot lower to the ground. With a sleek shape and featherweight mass thanks to a fiberglass body–the street version weighed in at 1,700 pounds, the race version at 1,300–the A110 could run with much beefier and more muscular cars. The most powerful street Alpines could turn the 0-60 sprint in the low 8-second range and could top out at more than 130 mph. That was serious performance in an era in which cars with fewer than eight cylinders could rarely exceed 100 mph and were generally considered novelties.

The panache of rallying dominance added yet more sheen to the A110’s curvaceous lines. The A110 won most of the races it entered in the early 1970s, and it took an amazing one-two-three finish at the 1971 Monte Carlo Rally. Only the introduction of the much more advanced Lancia Stratos in the middle of the decade ended the A110 whitewash.

While it was one of the most accomplished cars of the 1960s, the Alpine A110 never quite earned the popular acclaim of its Porsche 911 rival. Still, while it never became a household name, the A110’s competition success and attractive looks earned it cult status among the enthusiast community. Today the die-hard can buy A110 models and collectibles; slot car racers can buy various versions of the A110 in different liveries to race on their own electrified rally courses.

The A110 may not have achieved the fame it deserved, and it may not have been as quirky as its French brethren, but it certainly had the power to intoxicate. Listen to its primal howl in the videos below; it’s incredibly soul-stirring. And have I mentioned that it’s gorgeous?

The top image was taken by Flickr user bjmullan; the second and third images were taken by Sebastien Morliere and are available as desktop images from All Sport Auto.com.

–Chris H.