buying a fulvia 1.3, what a story

[chistian skjott]

This is the story of a another unusual weekend. I went to Milan with my father. It had all been planned in advance of course: How to come, where to be and who to meet. We had all met before, last november in a village near Rome. The weather was a promise of spring and spirits were high. Italy is certainly pretty this time of the year. Blooming, welcoming and warm, just like our found friends. We were brought to their home, a suburb to Milan, a secured area of highrises surrounded by farmland, which at the moment were not enjoying the best of times as waterlevels were low and therefore the farmers were having problems irrigating their coming crop. By the time we arrived the sun had set and not much was to be seen. It took nearly an hour to drive from the airport due to the heavy traffic and it was now round 7 o'clock.

In the enclosed courtyard, there she was. Just new in town, arriving there only an hour sooner than we. Her skin dark as plum. Purposeful and with a cheeky look she stood before us, and we could only to surrender to her charms, again..

We got on with the details for our encounter and enjoyed a nice long and hearty dinner, with chats about this and that, satisfying streams of local wine and good spirit. It wouldn't be till the next day, I would get the chance to get inside her, as everyone courting something properly will recognize. She was opened by corny keys known to the select few, black and white she craved..

Crisp and to the point she fired up, giving her best, but still in the slightly awkward way any first time usually is; sporting shift is new to me, I must admit. But we got around the bends and off we were to a long ride, not forgetting for one moment why were together at last. We would take her home with us. At first she would play it coy, not at all warming up to the idea, any control whimsical and stiff, as she hadn't really been touched the last eight years, and the whole journey through the swiss alps was very and nearly unbearably cold, only overshadowed by intent, and two men at once can be very insisting. Once into Germany, where the ride had been generally smooth, but chilly indeed, while carefully exploiting her possibilities, she emmitted a loud but unmistakable squealish sound. We needed to stop. All along she had had our full attention, but now she demanded our utmost attention. Something was wrong. Once stopped, we gave her a good look over and found that she was spilling her liquids from here and there. The purposeful ride had made her sick and she did need our immediate attention, but we were practically in the middle of nowhere and had no possiblity whatsoever of fulfilling her immediate needs, not carrying any remedies but our luggage. However we would calmly inflate her with new hope, as she had also run a complete flat. I did think we were pulling a bit to the left. We provided her with a spare tyre to sit on. Persuading ourselves with our blessed luck we agreed to proceed with our journey and deal with whatever was ahead. What else could we do? Fortunatly we were very close, about 100 kilometers, from a little town called Bühl, where I had allready been some years before with another "femina", and to get supplies of necessities. We spent the night there.

As it would turn out the following morning, the fuel pump had burst the membrane and fuel was now literally cascading down the block, where it had only been dripping the day before. Fortunatly the leaking zimmering was a minor problem, we topped up the differential oil and leaking was unconcerning. No worse, than with regular check up along the way the Fulvia would make it nicely back to Copenhagen. But the fuelpump was a near fatal problem, and we had been very fortunate indeed to find this guy, Bassem El Boubou, still at work late Saturday afternoon at ItalCar in Bühl. He had a new fuelpump in stock and differential oil, regretably not a zimmering we could have for later replacement. Now the only trouble was, it being a quiet Easter Sunday and ItalCar definetly not open for business at 8 o'clock in the morning, to find tools to make the replacement. Funny how gasstations these days no longer can service in any way, a car with trouble, but we were lucky at the second time, an Aral station, where a young kid minding the store showed me to a cupboard at the back with various usables. It's true what they say, proper tools is half the work. But we managed and with my old man looking over my shoulder I dug in. After all he trained me on my Gamma Coupe 1978, type 1, 2500 ccm carburettor version, and really being the one getting him into this story, I felt responsible and got to show him the value of his meticulous training. Now he doesn't have to get his hands dirty over a bagatelle such as replacing the fuelpump. Doesn't mean he's not paying attention to every little thing I do, even though he is just enjoying his pipe.

Quite a tight unit on the Fulvia, but nice and spacious around to work in, regardless. It took an hour and then some in all, the new pump fitted and everything back in place. A lazy Sunday with few people out and about, some would come over and gaze at the strange view of two adult men roaming around, what they might consider a strange looking car from another planet, one would offer his admiration for the car and his help, but we were just fine. Could have used a nice and warm garage though, as it was a pretty cold. But with task in front, such luxury is soon forgotten.

Back on the road, all was well. No scent of fuel, all systems go, temperature steady as a rock, oilpressure in top and we pushed on, getting back on the Autobahn from Baden-Baden. Then was the breakthrough. The accelerator suddenly gave way and became lighter to the touch and more responsive. The clutch smoothened. Feel was now definetly unveiled and clearly back to it's former glory. Speed was still moderate and after a refuelling stop down the road and triplechecking my handywork, oil levels and anything else, it was time to eat some tarmac. Best of all, that in the meantime my old man, sitting in the passengers seat had found the lever under the dash which directly controls the heating. Somewhere in Switzerland, desperate for heating, the dashcontrol had slipped completely. We now had heating in the car, and could truly enjoy the entity.

The Fulvia is an amazing little car, however lightweight it handles like a bigger car. Steering is superb, the car pointing exactly where you want it and with outstanding precision. The engine emmits sweet tones. Really rock'n roll at just the perfect level. How typical of Lancia, never omitting to remind me I'm driving just that: a Lancia. My dad would take the wheel from Frankfurt and on towards Kassel, only proper as this is his car, and I find this stretch of road to be the ultimate testing grounds for any car, wide track caressing hillside up and down and in long sweepy curves. We are in total agreement. This is where I fell in love with the Gamma, a sighting back in the 80's on my way to Italy for studies. It is my favourite stretch of road of all for highspeed trials. With rpm's round 4500 and 5000, the Fulvia was pulling steadfast and not once losing it's grip. Balance is perfect and the shocks communicate everything without twitching. I realise that I'm just taken, that my love for the Lancia cars, these built when I didn't even have a driver's license, but was chasing girls on a bicycle, is so generously and shamelessly rewarded. I admit that I have streak of fuel running through my veins.

10 hours later we would arrive at our destination, all in one go, constantly keeping it round the 4500 rpm mark. I believe we left everyone behind, as they might possibly be able to go faster but surely not as steady nor continuedly. New cars just don't instill this kind of confidence. I might have been a bit ruffled in the end, the seating in the Fulvia is great, but I'm rather tall and used to altering the seat support on long journeys in my Gamma, this Fulvia has fixed seating with just the one position, which is pretty upright and alert, take it or leave it. Steering also is in a fixed position. Really not worth mentioning. Support and position is really outstanding for such genuinely simple car. It doesn't even have any noise reducing textiles to it. Besides I'm getting older and driving for hours on end will naturally leave it's mark on even the thoughest driver. I'll risk stating that I could probably have stayed in my seat and easily continued the ride, had we decided going to the northpole. This is truly another driver's car.

It was dark when we reached the danish border by boat from Puttgarten, and now we could take in the nightlife. Pleasing green light oozes over the Veglia Borletti dials, which are easily monitored, and the headbeams over the road are indeed surprisingly bright for parabolics nearly 30 years old.
Parked in the driveway with the engine idling and the lights on I gave it a good last look for now. Actually the engine note is very full, and if I didn't know, I could easily convince myself, a bigger unit was inside. The V4, 1.3 is a masterpiece, I say, sound and clear, never intrusive, only alluring. The design are the strokes of a genius. I know, being a designer myself, but this is out of my league. What a mind. We humbly praise Castagnero.

I recommend anyone who has read so far: If you haven't, and you can, get one, it is so choice! I would, after this encounter and if I didn't allready have my own mistress, the Gamma Coupé. Which reminds me of a side remark: On our way through Switzerland, we encountered and trailed a Gold metallic 2500 i.e, series 2 Gamma Coupé.. Looked shiny and A1, greetings exchanged with thumbs up, he left us behind taking off in another direction when the road split. Licenseplate AG something. It was a mixed emotion, glorious on the one side, but also quite frustrating, because I live in Denmark and drive the only Gamma Coupé on the roads here. Would be nice to encounter another kindred spirit now and then, but I guess I'll just have to face the facts: I live in the wrong place to enhance or even enjoy the occasional mirroring of personal indulgence.

On the bright side: We now have three Lancias (the Fulvia and my 2 Gammas, ref. to Viva Lancia Gamma forum in english) in our modest family, different in class and age, but unmistakably related by their individual style and capacities, the products of the former, and in my opinion, greatest italian car manufacturer. It will be quite something when we cruise them alongside each other to future events of all sorts.

Forza la Lancia, thanks for reading, and I hope to see you on the road, somewhere, sometime.

Details on this Fulvia: a 1.3 series 3, The Safari edition. Dark brown (Umber) with black interior. Now owned by Knud Christensen, Denmark. Built 1975, one previous owner only, an italian geologist and it certainly is in great original condition. It's a gem, not even fitted with a radio.

[Randy Adams]

Great story.

I ran Fulvias for over ten years. I never had a radio in either one of them.

[Jesus Echevarria]

My 1.3 S3 came with a Pioneer 4 track tape radio. The tapes were difficult to get but the quality was excellent. I used to go around old markets and buy box loads of 4 track tapes for a pound or two for the box! Most of the stuff was rubbish but you often got some good oldie stuff like Simon and Garfunkel and Beatles, etc...The good thing was that nobody wanted to break into your car for the Stereo!
Sadly I had to sell it when I went to University and the guy that bought it wrote it off very soon afterwards.

Regards

Jesús

[Andreas Tantius]

what do you want with a radio i a Fulvia ? The music comes up to 4000 rpm
from the front of the car.For sure believe it !!

[christian skjott]

absolutely right, music comes from within...

[Ruud]

Hi Christian

Interesting story, but can you tell me what the special remarks are from de type "Safari"

Thanks, Ruud (Holland)