The Legendary Alpine A110: A Story of Passion, Innovation, and Rally Triumph

Dieppe, 1950. Post-war Normandy is slowly recovering—beautiful, yet devastated. Not long ago, Jean Redel inherited his father’s car dealership, selling Renault cars. Still under thirty, Redel was the youngest Renault dealer in France, but his soul craved adventure—preferably automotive adventures. But what could he do when Renault didn’t have a single exciting car in its lineup?

The nationalized post-war company was busy manufacturing inexpensive rear-engine “French Beetles”—the 4CV. It was in this car that Jean Redel began his rally career!

Success came almost immediately. In the mid-1950s, Redel won his class (up to 750 cc) twice at the legendary Mille Miglia. And in the same 4-cylinder 4CV, he also triumphed in the French rally, the Coupe des Alpes. Tall and stately, Redel always raced in a tie and a three-piece suit, embodying the true gentleman driver. Can you imagine how he looked behind the wheel of the tiny 4CV?

Youthful energy and good taste came together, and soon Redel’s first car, created under his initiative, appeared—the Redele Special coupe with a 550 kg aluminum body, which he immediately raced in rallies. In 1955, Redel founded Alpine, and shortly after, he started small-scale production of the A106 coupe, followed by the A108 with a Renault Dauphine engine (40 hp) in 1960. But this was just the beginning.

No matter how I look at the Alpine A110 from Renault Classic’s collection, it’s a masterpiece. How did Redel’s company manage to create a car in 1963 that still looks stylish and modern today?

They really skimped on everything. The body was as simple as possible—a space frame made of steel tubes, with plastic panels attached. The suspension and powertrain were borrowed from Renault’s most modern car at the time, the rear-engine Renault 8. However, the A110’s low, sleek silhouette (which led to it often being called a berlinetta rather than a coupe) and its lightweight construction allowed it to achieve a top speed of over 170 km/h, despite only having 55 hp.

At the same time, Alpine was essentially a large garage, assembling just two cars a week. It was a struggle for survival since the A110 was one and a half times more expensive than the Renault 8 sedan. Naturally, the idea emerged to create a coupe for foreign markets, specifically manufactured abroad. Over ten years, more than 4,000 cars were produced in Brazil, Mexico, Spain, and even Bulgaria. Redel also knew the universal method for boosting sales: rally victories!

How on earth did they race in such conditions? Getting into the driver’s seat was a challenge: you had to squeeze in, tucking your legs into the narrow gap between the giant wheel arch and the central tunnel. At 187 cm tall, the roof didn’t just press on my head—it would need to be raised by at least 10 cm for me to sit upright! The floor pedals were shifted to the right, and there was nowhere to put the left foot… Only the soft, amorphous seat made it somewhat bearable to sit behind the wheel—albeit awkwardly. Rally drivers complained about the visibility—due to the very low seating position, especially on British and Finnish rally stages, nothing could be seen over the crests of the road. In the rain, it was even worse—the wiper mechanism from the Renault sedans couldn’t bring the left wiper to the pillar, missing by nearly 25 cm!

However, the A110’s advantages quickly became evident in racing—its handling and reliability. The lightweight body played a huge role: the lightest version with thin body panels weighed just 685 kg, while the heaviest version, the “Morocco,” weighed around 900 kg, including all the reinforcements. Its reliability came from the simplicity of the design.

But the four-cylinder Renault engines, taken from mass-production models, were too weak for racing—even after being modified by the Mignotet workshop, as was common. Attempts to “boost” the Alpine A110 started in 1966 with the 1300 version. Various Gordini engines were installed under the rear hood—by 1969, a 1300S version with 120 hp was introduced, and two years later, the 1600S with 138 hp. There were even experiments with 16-valve cylinder heads and turbocharging. But nothing quite worked!

“My” car is a 1975 Alpine A110 1300S, a road version from the final production batches. It has a more modern engine, nearly 80 hp, from the Renault 16 model, but the acceleration is underwhelming. The magnificent large speedometer, marked up to 240 km/h, seems almost like a joke, and the tachometer, with a redline of 8,000 rpm, is clearly too optimistic. The engine barely pulls at low revs, and after 4,000 rpm, it only slightly wakes up before it fades again by 5,500 rpm. The interior noise is so loud that it feels like you’ve entered a combustion chamber.

Is this really a rally legend?

The competitors—Porsche 911, Lancia Stratos, Ford Escort, Fiat Abarth 124 Spyder—were always more powerful, but the Alpine drivers “made up for it” with consistency. In 1971, they managed to win three first places at the Monte Carlo Rally—recognition came in the form of permission to call their racing team Alpine-Renault.

In 1972, rally drivers finally got a more powerful engine—a 1.8-liter engine with more than 180 hp. By that time, the powerful brakes from the Renault 16 were also available, though the car had used disc brakes “all around” from the start. They also started making bodies with wider wheel arches to accommodate larger tires, and the second set of headlights appeared earlier.

Then, in 1973, true success arrived: in the debut World Rally Championship (WRC) season, the Alpine team won gold. Although there was no individual classification—just a team one (likely Björn Waldegard would have won individually in a BMW)—the Alpine crews triumphed thanks to their stability and reliability, winning seven out of ten races.

Since 1972, the rear suspension was upgraded to a more modern double wishbone setup, replacing the outdated rear axle with trailing arms, which improved handling. However, this setup, combined with a higher center of gravity, led to constant oversteering in rally situations. As a result, both drivers and modern collectors consider the 1300 versions from 1971 to be the most balanced.

It was believed that in rallying, the A110 should always be driven with some slides—the key was to keep them small. While I can’t test this “70s postulate” with a museum car, even driving calmly, there’s a certain joy in driving the Alpine. The ultra-light car responds to steering inputs so directly and quickly, it feels like there’s no weight at all—despite its 700 kg. Most of that weight is concentrated at the rear, making the steering feel almost weightless, even without power assistance. This precise handling was often compared to karting—it follows the steering so closely and takes turns so “flatly” that the association is inevitable.

The key is a smooth road—on bumps, the A110 with its short-travel, stiff suspension will jump off its trajectory (the steering column shakes as if trembling in fear), and even straight-line stability is lacking. But there are no issues with the ancient rear suspension design when cornering—the A110 does not suffer from excessive oversteering, unlike the taller Renault 8 sedan.

One downside: to fully enjoy the nimbleness and lightweight sharpness of the Alpine, you need to be under 170 cm tall. For me, pressing the pedals from the side is uncomfortable, and God forbid my foot slips off the stiff brake pedal. My left elbow is pressed against the door, making it impossible to steer properly—the lower section of the wheel is blocked by my legs. The most challenging task is making a sharp right turn. Trying to engage second gear while tucking the short-shift lever under my right knee, turning the wheel, and simultaneously activating the turn signal with the stalk on the steering column is just impossible—there’s no space!

The history of the A110 ended almost simultaneously with the independence of Alpine. In 1968, Jean Redel achieved the unimaginable—he secured the right to sell his berlinettas through Renault’s vast dealer network. Essentially, Redel was selling cars for Renault, which then sought buyers. Money poured in, a new Alpine factory was opened, and production rose to six to eight cars per day. However, the “fatherly” corporation increasingly influenced the company’s policies. In 1968, Redel secretly built the advanced Alpine A350 racing car with a three-liter Renault-Gordini engine for Formula 1. The car featured original suspension—double wishbones with upper arms connected by a Watt’s linkage to ensure the wheels remained perpendicular to the road. However, under Renault’s insistence, the project was closed: the corporation was only interested in Le Mans and rallying.

The integration grew tighter, and by 1971, all A110s bore the Alpine-Renault double badges. However, by 1973, Renault’s audit revealed that Alpine’s factory was disorganized and its accounting was neglected. Redel was convinced to sell the majority of his shares to Renault. Perhaps it was for the best—this was the era of the oil crisis, and interest in sports cars waned. Moreover, speed limits began to be enforced in traffic laws—something that had never existed before.

Renault managers envisioned making Alpine “the French Porsche.” While the A110’s handling could still be compared to the Porsche 911, it was no match for them in comfort and practicality for everyday use. It’s enough to say that the A110 had no trunk space: the front compartment was fully occupied by the gas tank, spare wheel, and battery.

The next model, the A310, was supposedly better on the road, but something was missing. Sales were decent—about 8,000 A110s were sold, and the A310 sold more than 11,000 units. But who remembers it now? Renault shifted its priorities, and the A310, with its finally powerful V6 engine, was never homologated for international rallies. All efforts were focused on Le Mans and Formula 1, where Alpine engineers played a significant role in the development of a 1.5-liter turbo engine. But those races were far removed from road cars.

And the Alpine A110 berlinetta remains with us on posters, T-shirts, and racing emblems. In this car, French charisma is concentrated like the essence of Normandy apples in thirty-year-old Calvados. In its silhouette, you see Jean Redel in a tie at the start of a race; in its handling, you feel the twist and drive of French Alpine roads. It’s a car created in the name of rallying, but one that remains democratic.

Few cars have been honored with life-size monuments—but in the Spanish city of Orense, I happened to stumble upon a bronze Alpine A110! The monument is doubly unique, as it’s not quite the Alpine A110. The main problem of the berlinetta—its lack of power—was something the factory and enthusiasts tried to address throughout the car’s production. Spanish rally driver Stanislav Reverter solved it radically by installing an engine from a wrecked Porsche 911R under the rear hood! The one-off car was named Realpor, combining the names Reverter, Alpine, and Porsche, but it became known as Alpinche.

At first, the car used a 220-hp 2.2-liter flat-six engine, and with this motor, the coupe noticeably lightened up the front wheels during acceleration, making it difficult to control. Later, a 2.4 engine was installed, followed by a 2.7 (280 hp). With such impressive power, Alpinche won several rallies but was wrecked by 1975.

The monument was erected not only to the car but to its drivers. Stanislav Reverter and Antonio Coleman spent their lives rallying, organizing races and teams in Orense, earning eternal gratitude from the locals. Now, Reverter’s descendants are preparing to open the Stanislav museum and eventually recreate the Alpinche.

One way to combat the “engine weakness” was to install Gordini engines in the Alpine A110 – essentially the same Renault engines, but deeply modified by engineer Amédée Gordini. I drove the Renault 8 Gordini sedan with a 110-hp “four-cylinder.” What a difference!

Gordini’s main innovation was the cylinder head with spark plugs positioned at the center of hemispherical combustion chambers, marked with the iconic G logo on the valve cover. Combined with horizontal Weber carburetors, this setup produces a magnificent growl from the engine and a “high-revving” character to its performance. You can truly feel the racing heritage!

A rear-engine car in itself is interesting: it’s a unique, democratic sports car for its time. The Renault 8 Gordini was sold starting in 1964 in only one color – blue with white stripes. In 1966, the engine displacement was increased from 1108 to 1224 cc, and two additional headlights were added. That same year, they introduced a racing monocup, which gave many aspiring drivers the chance to enter professional motorsport.

Wealthy people would never have sat in such a car. The driving position in the Renault 8 is only slightly more comfortable than in the Alpine A110—at least the roof doesn’t press on your head. However, the gear shifter, or rather the thin rod with a rubber ball knob, hides even further under the right foot, and its movement is huge and imprecise. You sink into the soft seats like into straw, but that’s what keeps you in place. I wouldn’t want to do a multi-day rally in that position, yet the Renault 8 Gordini won both the Monte Carlo Rally and the Tour de Corse!

How? I don’t understand, because keeping the Renault 8 Gordini on the road with its soft suspension is no simple task. The rear end tends to overtake the front even on straight roads, and if you take a corner a bit too fast, the rear wheel “collapses” on the trailing arm, sending the car into an early skid. You’re constantly spinning the wheel back and forth, even when driving calmly. However, the brakes are fantastic – the Renault 8 was the first car in history to feature Bendix disc brakes “all around.”

The first car created by Alpine after it was fully absorbed by Renault was the GTA coupe, which evolved into the A610 by 1991. Ambitions were high: the A610 was seen as a competitor to coupes like the Porsche, Lotus, and Ferrari. However, the model turned out to be a failure, and by 1995, it was discontinued, becoming Alpine’s last production car.

In 1993, the public’s interest was hoped to be rekindled by the “charged” Le Mans version with a turbocharged engine, boosted from 250 to 285 hp. However, it never made it to production—yet, it was in exactly this version from the Renault Classic collection that I got the chance to drive.

The most striking impression is the interior design. It’s like a spaceship from the ’70s or perhaps something from Le Corbusier—an elegant mix of rectangles and arcs. To the left of the steering wheel, there’s a block of additional instruments, including an oil level gauge, and to the right, the washer fluid level indicator. The car features air conditioning, ABS, and a digital radio… The wipers rise from the lower corners to the center of the glass—slightly out of sync, with the right one moving first, then the left.

But the ergonomics aren’t great—the steering column is non-adjustable, and when pressing the floor-mounted clutch pedal, your foot gets in the way of the wheel arch. The A610 drives poorly by modern standards. The steering is without power assistance, and the wheel feels heavy even at high speeds. The slightest unevenness or change in road slope pulls the steering wheel to one side. The suspension is bone-jarringly stiff, and road noise insulation is almost nonexistent. You can’t sit in this car for long—it’s no wonder it quickly fell out of favor in competition with GT coupes in the tourist class.

But the 2.8 turbo engine is great! It pulls from 1,000 rpm, and by 2,500 rpm, the big turbo spins up, sending the boost pressure gauge into the red zone and not giving up until 5,000 rpm. The acceleration is powerful, forceful, with that classic turbo surge. But there’s a deep turbo lag—at any revs, you hit the gas, and only after a second does the car hiss, breathe, spit out air, and shoot the Alpine forward. Straight into history.

Photo: Renault | Nikita Gudkov

This is a transaltion. You can read the original article here: Никита Гудков рассказывает, как компания Renault начинала делать зажигательные машины