Which Red Hatchback Wins Your Heart? 1977 Alfa Romeo Alfetta vs 1992 Plymouth Sundance Duster

Before you say anything: this is a weird matchup. I know. One is a bona-fide Italian classic, and the other is a jumped-up American economy car. They don’t seem to go together. And I’m betting that a lot of you already think you know which one you want. But, as always, the devil is in the details, and after looking at both of them, you may change your mind.

Yesterday was a weird matchup too, but who says I have to always choose two cars that go together? The only rules here, as far as I can tell, are “keep David happy” and “do the SEO stuff that Peter asks for so he doesn’t have to.” So if I want to compare a Lexus luxury coupe with a featherweight Honda hybrid, I’m going to do so.

It probably comes down to what you want out of a car, but the vast majority of you voted for the Lexus, and I can’t blame you. I think that would be my choice, too. The seller seems to really care about it, and they’re honest about the reason for the rebuilt title. And it’s a really nice car.

Today’s matchup is one of those that looks closer on paper than it is when you actually look at the cars. They’re both 2+2 hatchbacks, they’re both manual transmissions, they’re both fuel-injected, and neither one has air conditioning. But no one in their right mind looks at these two cars and sees them as equals in any way. Luckily, I’m not often in my right mind, so putting them together makes perfect sense to me. Let’s take a look.

1977 Alfa Romeo Alfetta GT – $3,500

Engine/drivetrain: 2.0-liter DOHC inline 4, five-speed manual, RWD

Location: Langley, WA

Odometer reading: 33,000 miles

Operational status: “Runs and moves under its own power but is not road worthy”

If you listen to what Jeremy Clarkson says, you aren’t a real car enthusiast until you’ve owned an Alfa Romeo. The Italian firm’s cars are legendarily fun to drive, and notoriously unreliable, so living with one is supposed to make you appreciate both a good driver’s car by its own example, and a reliable car by comparing it to everything else. But is that really necessary? Does suffering really build character, or is that just some bullshit your dad told you when you went on a camping trip and it started to rain? I just rid myself of a beautiful, unreliable British car, and I don’t feel like I learned anything from the experience other than “don’t buy British cars.” Do I really need to suffer through an Alfa too, just to prove myself worthy?

Were I not a recent veteran of MG ownership, I probably would really want this car, though. The Alfetta is the epitome of the classic Alfa experience, with a twin-cam four-cylinder engine, a rear-mounted transaxle, and a fancy DeDion rear suspension. US model Alfettas came with SPICA mechanical fuel injection, to improve emissions, and while some cars have had the system removed and replaced with carbs, this one is still intact. The seller says it starts and runs, but needs some tuning. The brakes also need bleeding, and the tires are old. In other words, bring a trailer.

The Alfetta’s instrument panel is unusual: the tachometer is directly in front of the driver, but the speedometer and other gauges are in a separate panel in the center. In other words, you can watch the tach needle swing to the right in concert with that wonderful Alfa engine noise, while your passenger can watch the speedometer climb and wonder if maybe you shouldn’t slow down a little. This one needs some work inside, or at least some carpet and a center console. The seats don’t look too bad, and if that cover has been on the dash all along, it probably isn’t cracked underneath. And if it is, you can just leave the cover on.

Like all Italian cars from the 1970s, it has some rust on it, covered up in black primer that I presume is some sort of rust converter. In my experience, that stuff doesn’t work nearly as well as you want it to, but at least it’s something. I’ve heard people joke that these cars started rusting on the boat on the way over to the US, which sounds like hyperbole, but it wouldn’t surprise me. I’ve seen a lot rustier Alfas being sold for more money than this, though. You can confidently lie to yourself and say “it’s not that bad.”

1992 Plymouth Sundance Duster – $2,300

Engine/drivetrain: 3.0-liter OHC V6, five-speed manual, FWD

Location: Portland, OR

Odometer reading: 96,000 miles

Operational status: Runs and drives great

The original Plymouth Duster was a two-door coupe based on the Valiant, introduced in 1970 as a cheaper alternative to the Barracuda, which had grown larger and more powerful for 1970. After the Duster bodystyle died out in 1976, the name lived on, first on the Volare, then on the Turismo, and finally on this car, the Sundance. Like the original, the idea here is having fun on a budget. This car isn’t pretending to be anything it’s not.

The most celebrated versions of the original Duster had larger engines with more power, and Plymouth revived that idea for the Sundance Duster. This car is powered by the same 3.0 liter Mitsubishi V6 used in Chrysler minivans of the day, but with a five-speed manual transmission in place of the automatic found in the vans. It’s a good setup for this car, a little less powerful than the turbocharged four-cylinder versions, but less hassle, too. This one is still under 100,000 miles, and it runs great. It just passed Oregon’s DEQ emissions inspection, too.

The interior is exactly what you would expect: gray plastic, and lots of it. But it’s functional, and the seats are comfortable. It’s in good condition overall, but there are a few flaws, like a burn mark on the driver’s seat and wood screws holding down the gearshift boot. The Duster package, no matter what generation, was always about being sporty on a budget, and as such, this car is missing some equipment you might expect – like air conditioning. But at least it has those flip-open rear quarter windows.

Outside, it’s faded, and the clearcoat is gone, but it’s rust- and damage-free. I thought the Duster package came with alloy wheels, but either I was wrong or this one lost them somewhere along the way. Nothing wrong with black steelies, though. It does come with wheel covers if you want to put them on, but I assume they’re some sort of ugly silver plastic junk from Walmart.

So that’s your choice for today: On one hand, you have a rough example of a legendary marque, and on the other, a pretty nice example of a scrappy bargain performance car. Are you willing to put in the work to bring the Alfa back up to snuff, or would you rather just have fun in the Plymouth?