Alpine A110 S | Test Drive

1 July 2025 Redazione News, Stories, Tested

When you’re in a hurry, take the long road.

Words by Alessandro Marrone / Photos by Alessio Becker

The other morning I treated myself to a little gift. For once, I decided to have breakfast the way it should always be— sitting at a café table. I would sip my coffee slowly and bite my croissant without letting my eyes bounce to the first emails of the day. Such a simple and seemingly obvious situation, yet it has vanished in the frenzy of a daily routine that has enslaved every single minute of the day. So, proud to have taken up one of the available tables at my usual place — where I typically spend just enough time to order and pay — I found myself holding an old-fashioned newspaper in my hands. Between its rough black-and-white pages and news I’d already glanced at while scrolling through social media before arriving, one phrase suddenly caught my attention: “When you’re in a hurry, take the long road.”

It’s a famous Japanese saying that perfectly reflects the philosophy of any true driving enthusiast. The longest road, the most winding one, the least traveled and least obvious. It’s always there, but it’s often ignored in the relentless race against the deadlines of modern life. Not today, especially since I’ve got the Alpine A110 S parked right in front of the café. Everyone’s looking at it, with its striking blue paint gleaming on a cold and wet winter day — but I’m the one with the key — or rather, the card — in my pocket. I quickly realize how hard bad habits die. After being distracted for just a second while admiring its shapes, I notice I’ve already finished my breakfast and also exhausted the waitress’s patience, ready to pass my table to the next customer.

Moments later, I’m back in my world, that padded microcosm that shuts out everything unrelated to the pleasure of driving. Every kilometer, every curve on this journey is a visceral ode to emotion, the kind that only a few cars can still make us feel, now that the line-up of small, lightweight sports cars has been nearly wiped out. Since its triumphant return in 2017 and now with the introduction of the interesting all-electric A290 compact, Alpine has become the undisputed standard-bearer of a philosophy long praised by Lotus, where the essence of driving pleasure follows a simple rule: feelings come before figures. Less is more, at least when it comes to weight, because the A110 S certainly doesn’t hold back in terms of specific power, with 300 horsepower ready to challenge today’s grip conditions.

It’s practically tradition now for me to embark on adventures balanced precariously between total disaster and bliss. I’m referring to the fact that my Alpine is fitted with summer tires and it doesn’t really matter that there are snow socks stowed in one of the small luggage compartments. My sights are always set on the long road not because I’m in a rush, but because I simply can’t and won’t look away when it comes to cars designed and built with one goal in mind: fun.

The A110 S carries an even more special flavor thanks to its deep connection with its 60s and 70s predecessor, a rally legend that proves how true sports driving begins with the need to feel the car as an extension of your own body. Enough with oversized power, enough with engineering gimmicks designed at the edge of the multiverse just to offset problems caused by excessive weight. Alpine’s formula is as pure and simple as it gets: a lightweight, compact car, a mid-mounted engine in the right place and the possibility of reaching mechanical limits, something that’s nearly impossible with 1000-hp cars, even on a track. No curbs here, instead it’s snow that outlines the road ahead. With sub-zero temperatures and wind whipping the tree branches and littering the road, I soon realize that the best place I could possibly be is nestled within the tight grip of the Sabelt bucket seats. They’re not the most practical solution for a supermarket run, but that depends on the number of curves.

If you’re going to do something, do it right. That’s why I don’t settle for Sport mode, I switch to Track, which disables traction control and makes the Alpine’s rear end wonderfully playful. Weighing just over 1,150 kg, the A110 S boasts a nearly perfect balance. The 1.8-liter inline-four remains unchanged and delivers its 300 horsepower in a linear way. As I’ve experienced before, Alpine’s acceleration doesn’t rip your guts out, but it builds confidence meter by meter, allowing you to reach and maintain a spirited pace. And I say “spirited” because I’d very much like to keep my license by year’s end.

On certain days, snow and bad weather clear out traffic the way mid-August empties big cities. The result: no one’s around. So I take advantage of the open way and push fun a little further, just to see whether luck is on my side today. Despite a minor sound insulation, this enfant terrible grumbles on lift-off and huffs between shifts, with the 7-speed dual-clutch transmission in Track mode becoming incredibly quick. The suspension is the biggest improvement over other versions, even more than the power increase. Thanks to the stiffer and more precise setup, cornering becomes more exhilarating, the car pressing to the asphalt as if sucked down by each grain of tarmac.

The tires perform miracles, truly. But when I joyfully enter a dirt-covered corner, the A110 S starts to slide. A slight steering correction, easing off the throttle, and somehow — I don’t even know how — I’m taking the next bend rather than lying in a ditch. There’s no rest, because the Alpine’s driving engagement gets under your skin, climbing up your spine, the same intensely worked by those Sabelt that seem designed to heighten awareness: the S isn’t a mini grand tourer, it’s a mini supercar for special occasions.

And it checks all the right boxes: it turns heads, it’s loud, rear visibility is nonexistent and the trunk space — yes, there are two — is laughable. There’s nowhere to store anything inside the cabin, at least not practically (there’s a large pouch behind the seats and a shelf under the center tunnel, but both are awkward) and it’s the fastest way to wave goodbye to your license. But I’m sure it has flaws, I’ll let you know if I ever find one.

I shift up through the gears and on the faster stretches I watch the speedo climb without hesitation. The Alpine is fast, no need to sugarcoat it. But speed isn’t everything, because the S which gains 20 Nm of torque over the standard version and still offers strong, linear delivery across the entire rev range. From 2,500 to 6,000 rpm, you’re pressed to that seat that’s been crushing you all along. You cling to the steering, fingers flicking the paddles to grab the next gear and do it all over again, in the name of speed. In the name of fun.

And just when you think you’ve figured out what it’s all about, you hit another bend, one of many on the infamous long road and you realize that double-wishbone suspension and a lightweight alloy body matter even more when it comes to engagement. Because if power raises your heart rate, curves make you sweat and bite your lip, hoping you haven’t misunderstood the laws of physics, especially when running winter tires over shady, snow-covered patches that hide danger.

The Alpine A110 S isn’t the most extreme in the lineup, that title goes to the R Turini, but it’s undoubtedly the one that makes the most sense in the real world. It blends opposing needs: you can use it more often than you would with a supercar, thanks to its manageable running costs and surprising comfort even over long distances. It’s the new car you’d want to take on familiar roads, or discover new ones, with the confidence that it won’t betray you. Push it to the limit and it might not be easy, but still it remains predictable.

Power-to-weight ratio is the answer. It’s the formula every maker of fun cars should tattoo into their mind. Because these increasingly rare machines are capable of things we didn’t think possible — like elevating the driving experience on a road you know by heart, making it feel like the most unexpected exploration, dodging every definition typically reserved for vehicles ready to charge down forgotten dirt paths. Today, the Alpine proved itself as the hero we didn’t know we needed eight years ago. Today, it’s all about it, maybe because it’s the best, or maybe the boldest. What matters is that it’s so damn good at keeping that thrill alive, the one that reminds you why you love cars, why you cringe when someone mention comfort zones and why you’ll always choose the long road, whether you’re in a hurry or not.