Giallo Ocra and Me
1971 Alfa Romeo GTV 1750, wearing a color I would never in my life have picked off a swatch. It does not matter even slightly. That's kind of the whole point of this one.
Every Color Has A Skeptic
I like my colors loud. Giallo Ocra doesn't argue with anybody, and I still can't stop looking at it.
I'll say it plainly, since the car can't hear me: Giallo Ocra — ochre-yellow, the color Alfa Romeo actually named this paint — is not a color I would have chosen. I like my colors loud, the kind that argue with the rest of the parking lot. This one just sits there being tasteful, mustard-gold under the Main Street sun, and somehow that's nearly worse, because it means the car has to win me over on shape and substance alone with zero help from the paint code. It did. Immediately. Completely.
Found her wedged on Main Street between a blue Cobra replica and something silver I didn't have time for, at the same Cruisin' On Main show that's already given me one Alfa this year. Apparently Bozeman just has a surplus. I'm not complaining.
The Receipts
The owner did some of my homework for me, and I'm not too proud to use it.
This is a 1971 Alfa Romeo GTV 1750, owned by Gary Kachadurian out of Gallatin Gateway, and the placard propped against the windshield did half my research before I even lifted the camera: Giorgetto Giugiaro's shape at Bertone, a 1,779cc twin-cam four breathing through mechanical fuel injection, a 5-speed manual mounted on the console, and a restoration by Norman Noosha with only 1,550 miles logged since. Fifty-five years old and it's put fewer miles on since its rebirth than most daily commutes rack up in a year.
Quad round headlights up front — clear outers, amber inners, which is the give-away for the European-market lighting this GTV was actually built with, not the all-clear sealed-beam setup U.S. cars got stuck with. Small mesh grille, that trapezoidal shield mounted dead center like it's daring you to look anywhere else. On the C-pillar, a four-leaf clover — the quadrifoglio, Alfa's century-old good-luck charm, riding on race cars since Ugo Sivocci painted one on his P2 in 1923. Whether this one's a factory Verde trim or just an owner who knows his history, it's earned its spot either way.
What I'm Working With Here
- Model: 1971 Alfa Romeo GTV 1750, owned by Gary Kachadurian, Gallatin Gateway
- Body: Bertone-built coupe, Giorgetto Giugiaro design
- Engine: 1,779cc twin-cam four, mechanical fuel injection
- Gearbox: 5-speed manual, console-mounted shifter
- Restoration: by Norman Noosha — 1,550 miles logged since
- Color: Giallo Ocra. Not my pick. Doesn't matter.
Se l'Italia non ha già un proverbio per "l'amore non guarda il colore" — love doesn't check the paint code — Giallo Ocra just wrote one for them.
La Bella Figura, Anyway
Slide inside and the color stops being the point entirely.
Open the door and the argument's over before it starts: a wood-rim Nardi wheel, wood trim running the length of the dash, a gated shifter topped in more of that same wood, round Veglia gauges tucked behind the rim like they've been waiting fifty-five years for someone to finally drive it properly. Somebody hung a little Italian flag — shaped, for reasons known only to them, like a boxing glove — from the mirror. A small, unnecessary, completely correct touch. This car didn't need to remind anyone where it's from. It did it anyway, and I respect the redundancy.
Rear end wears the script in full: ALFA ROMEO, pressed into the trunk lid above a Montana plate that reads "Don't Tread On Me" under a car that has never once needed to raise its voice to make a point. Dual exhaust tips, round taillights, a shape that still looks fast parked. Giugiaro drew this in his twenties. I'm considerably older than that and still haven't drawn anything half this good.
The Verdict
Andiamo — I still don't love the color. I still love the car completely.
Two Alfas out of one Bozeman car show now, and both of them have talked me out of every objection I walked in with. This one did it despite a paint color I'd never have chosen, which if anything makes the surrender more embarrassing. Giallo Ocra and me: not friends on paper, apparently unable to stay away from each other in person. Che disastro. I'd do it again tomorrow.
