Dropping behind the wheel of the Alfa Romeo 4C with a cup of cappuccino in my left hand, I turned to my tall, blonde co-pilot and asked for my biscotti.
“Look how Italian we’re being!” she beamed.
“Yes, but the Italians would never approve of driving while consuming coffee and pastries behind the wheel, no matter how Italian.” I reminded her, as I bit into my biscotti sending crumbs exploding across the tiny cabin.
“See,” I began, brushing the crumbs onto the floor mat covering polished carbon fiber, mouth still full of sharp biscotti fragments. “I’ll bet these poorly placed cup holders aren’t even included in the European version of the 4C.” I pointed to the shallow divots carved into the hard plastic that covered the transmission cover, directly in line with the driver’s right elbow.
“Well, I’m still having fun!” She shouted in retort over the excruciating ringing chime that marked the completion of the 4C’s ignition process.
“As am I, dear. As am I.” With that, I pushed the “1” button on the center console and ripped off in a loud four-cylinder bellow, marked with just a soupçon of turbo whine.
“Loud noises!”
I am not being pedantic about that horrendous chime that goes off after the 4C is started. Honestly, calling it a chime is like calling Donald Trump’s mop-top a hairdo; it’s a downright monstrosity and everyone knows it, no matter what you call it.
Regardless, the chime honestly sets the tone for the driving experience of the 4C because the little wedge of Italian carbon fiber is very, very loud. However, that’s not all bad.
Yes, at ignition and on the highway, a driver might wish he’d spent his money on a sensible Lexus rather than a stripped-down sports car because his tinnitus will be in full force. On the backroads, or tooling through town, he’ll be quite pleased with himself indeed.
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