Alfa Romeo 6C2500SS Aerlux

I was lucky to end up as I did. I’m still in doubt where all this is heading towards, but it’s getting better day after day.

I know, I could have been more fortunate and be parked in a cosy museum, being gently dusted from time to time, having my rubber parts regularly cleaned to keep them nice and elastic, in best case having my engine started once a year. Happiness is relative, I’m not sure if I would like such a fate. Feels boring…

I’m sure about never being a daily commuter again, but I wish to be a car which runs from time to time, drives few miles there and back just to feel alive.

Please don’t get me wrong, this is not complaining at all. I could have ended up owned by an Italiano engineer building a railway somewhere in Saudi Arabia. That would be very cruel. How do I know? There must be sand storms on daily basis over there. I went through it once. Never again! It was a sand hell. It all began in a very innocent fashion; guys dismounted everything from my desolate-looking bodywork covered with holes of various sizes. After this, only the naked frame remained, the famous Superleggera. It found myself being super-light, perhaps even a bit over the top.

Then I was loaded on a riddicuosly small carriage with even funnier looking little wheels. This was all put on a trailer and towed away who-knows-where. At least I enjoyed the fresh wind blowing through my frame.

Once I was back on the ground, this funny dressed ragazzo appeared, holding a thick tube in his hand. It was quite an amusing sight, until…

…he turned into a monster! Che cosa terribile! From that tube in his hands, he started blowing a stream of sand at tremendous speed, landing on my weak and painful bodywork. I could see in his eyes full satisfaction to see old layers of paint going, as well as the rust. That cruel sadist didn’t omit one single spot. The framework showed new dents and holes, and some poorly-welded joints too.

Once he was finished, I was put on a trailer again and brought back to the workshop. I was mad at them. How could they...? It hurts!

When everyone left, Delahaye revealed to me that it was actually a good thing for me going through that purgatory. Well I really want to see how...

So I was right, we were moved to Europe, namley the country of Slovakia. No need to describe the journey – no particularly best memories, as my tender soul definitely didn’t enjoz that deep darkness and splashing waves. For a month, I did not see a single ray of sunshine.

So let’s skip that, now I’m here, in Slovakia. Rumours say the girls here are georgeous. Already when being unloaded from the truck I noticed a few. I tried to wink at them, and got some results – my headlight trim fell off. They ignored me completely! But pretty girls are everywhere here. It will be a pleasure to live here!

Let’s better change the subject and give you my fresh impressions from this place. It’s apparently a busy spot, just next door there is progressing renovation of the Lincoln going on (he might be un americano but he’s all right, surprisingly enthusiastic for his age) and on the other side, there is this great French Delahaye, also being put back into glorious shape. That got me thinking, that they seem to be pretty serious about this renovation business.

I was very pleasantly surprised by being pushed  into this very workshop just in the moment when the mighty Lincoln was leaving. I felt like apologising to him for being thrown out because of me, but it turned out he was leaving to finally get his body fitted and painted and should be soon back.

As soon as I got used to this environment, the mechanics started dismantling everything down from me. There was a bunch of them and I felt important, like in a racing curcuit depot or so. They started with stripping down body metal parts, as pretty much everything was already in boxes. Actually, I left US in this state, feeling like a homeless man with all my belongings in cardboxes next to me. It was difficult to assess what was in them - there was no time for thorough inspection. But fortunately, it seems that apart from the steering wheel, cooler fan and some minor bits and pieces everything was there. Ragazzi (that’s how I named these good people) said that everything will be fixed and renewed. I hope I can trust them with this one.

After the inventory check the dismantling process continued; all the way to the steel tube framework, my pride, and the chassis frame. I felt naked. It was lightly embarassing, because only now I discovered what an appaling state I was in: with some parts missing, and a rail welded to my chassis frame just to keep it together...

It is going to be a long way until I will be able to seduce Slovak girls with my good looks.  And this is definitely THE place to make that happen!

Ciao ragazzi! I’m Alfa. Alfa Romeo 6C 2500 SS by full name. I better explain that complicated code. 6C stands for sei cilindri, in other words six cylinder, 2500 represents the engine capacity and please don’t misinterpret the SS, as it’s my pride – Super Sport. Because I’m super and sporty too, you know. But I don’t care much about any formal titles, although I could – perhaps you didn’t know I’m one of the very first cars with Superleggera body. It translates as Superlight. Of course, this trait concerns only my overall weight, nothing else! So it would be the best if you just call me Alfa.

I’m one of those who adore life. Infinitely. Dolce vita, you know. I think it’s one of the best things that can ever happen to you. To live. And if you are as handsome as I am, it’s a bonus you can always use.

It’s a fact that recently, I did not care much about myself, but the reason behind that is that I’m in US. I never quite learn to like it here. You see, I have nothing against this place, it’s just that I will still prefer good old Europe. It’s the roads. I know every corner back there. Naturalmente, not every single one, but in my homeland Italy I know some magical places, so should any lady be interested, I can show her some of them, with all my pleasure.

My current problem is that there are not many beauties around. Not a single one to be more accurate. Just my sister Alfa Romeo 6C 2500 SS Pininfarina Cabriolet. She doesn’t count though. I suspect that’s one of the reasons for my decline.

But I’m alive and that’s what counts. It seems that we’re about to move from here. Not that I dislike this place or anything, it’s dry and there’s no wind, but I can use a change. Some time ago, a young racing driver showed some interest in my purchase. I had to make a strong statement that me and my sister are going together whatever the destination. He accepted it. You see, I have a broad family including lot of cousins, but only one sister.

That racing driver was from Slovakia. I know the place… …well I heard of it. What matters mostly is that Slovakia is in Europe, which is the racing paradise. Oh, I forgot to share with you that I’m a thoroughbred racer, despite my civilised look. Americans can race well – remember Juan Manuel Fangio from Argentina? But I still prefer European racing drivers, especially Italian. Does the name Tazio Nuvolari ring a bell? Definitely one of my most-beloved idols! The guy has made our racing family famous. He’s a true legend.

I adore the adrenaline rush when going fast through the corner, with the risk that I might end up being wrapped around a tree. Molto pericoloso. And from what I’ve heard, Slovakia is packed with corners and hillclimbs. And trees, too, but let’s not think about that.