AutoTrader Find of the Week: This 1974 Alfa Romeo GTV 2000 Brings Me ‘Back Home’

My godmother always wanted me to learn Italian.

Born in Italy, she arrived in Canada as a preteen without knowing any English. I never knew my grandparents on the Italian side of my family, but my godmother kept the culture alive for us, mostly, though not exclusively, in the form of food.

Growing up, I never really identified with being Italian. Besides the negative stereotypes perpetuated in equal proportion by HBO and MTV, which I was eager to disassociate from, I was a kid from a rural suburb in southern Ontario. My culture was double-doubles, Molson Canadian, and Ford Mustangs — not espressos, negronis, and Alfa Romeos. 

In fact, even as an early-in-life car enthusiast, I would say I developed a complete blind spot for European classics. 

Perhaps because I was raised in a muscle car family. Perhaps because Japanese sports compacts dominated the popular culture of my youth. Classic European cars just seemed so alien to me. I had no frame of reference or sense of appreciation for them.

But the older I got and the further away from home I ventured, the more my window for new experiences opened up — and the more I started to yearn for that Italian culture my godmother had kept alive for us and that I had always taken for granted. What can I say? You try spending a year or more on the West Coast without finding a decent veal sandwich. Madone.

My godmother died in 2021. Afterwards, I did my best to learn a little Italian. I started seeking out Italian bakeries, cafes, and restaurants. When a few Italian immigrants opened a gelato shop across the street, I made it my usual coffee stop, trying to build up my confidence with baby steps like prego, ciao, and buongiorno — anything to feel like I hadn’t really lost all of my godmother. If she couldn’t be present in my life, maybe she could be omnipresent.

Inevitably, I took a trip to Italy.

Lost somewhere in the cobblestone streets of Rome, sipping an espresso that I barely managed to order through my (still) embarrassingly weak Italian, I spotted a 1970s Alfa Romeo GTV.

It was a car I still knew next to nothing about, but I felt, for the first time ever, a striking feeling of, “I want that.” Maybe it was the espresso, the Roman aesthetic, or just the jet lag, but I decided at that moment that the GTV was, hands down, one of the most beautiful cars ever designed.

And that means I very much now want this absolutely stunning 1974 Alfa Romeo GTV 2000 offered for sale through Caliber Automobiles in Etobicoke via the AutoTrader marketplace.
Actually, Caliber currently has two Alfa GTV 2000s for sale. This yellow 1973 model is also available.

I learned that GTV stands for Grand Turismo Veloce and is, in many ways, the true predecessor of the modern Alfa Giulia sport sedan. The GTV’s coupe platform, developed in the early 1960s, was based on a shortened version of the original Giulia sedan — and first branded as the “Giulia Sprint GT.”

I also learned that 1974 was the last year for the Alfa GTV in North America. If I were to guess, I would think it was a no-brainer as to why. With its 130-horsepower twin-cam four-cylinder engine, nimble chassis tuning, and focus on lightness (coming in at just under 1,000 kg), the GTV just doesn’t fit into the North American lexicon of frothing-from-the-mouth iron V8s you can cook a steak on.

However, I’d be wrong. The GTV ceased sales in North America because Alfa wasn’t interested in meeting new U.S. safety regulations. Actually, sales of the 1974 model year carried through to 1975 as a way to move a few extra units and avoid production shortfall.

So, there was very much an appetite for this car in the new world — perhaps born from a contingent of enthusiasts also looking to break away from a homogenized culture. The GTV was even a rare case of North America getting the good one. Canada and the United States received the fuel injection models, whereas other markets were stuck with carbs.

In my younger years, when bravado and attitude took priority over experience, style, and culture, I would have never cared for the GTV. 

But now in my 30s, I don’t understand how people don’t fall in love with that tri-spoke, wood-grip steering wheel. I can’t relate to anyone who doesn’t want to rev out all 130 horses of that little 2.0-litre four-banger and watch those analogue gauges report back a symphony of art in motion. If you don’t want your living room to look like the interior of this car, I just don’t think we’re on the same wavelength.

This feels unbearably trite and lame to write, but a car like this really does make me feel a little closer to my heritage. Maybe because it just oozes Italian flair. Maybe because it’s the right vintage for me to imagine my relatives as newly minted adults, enjoying freedom in their own cars. Maybe it’s just because I saw one on that damn trip. 

Boh. Il cuore vuole quello che vuole. (I don't know. The heart wants what it wants.)

The green ‘74 comes with a mountain of authentication, and the yellow ‘73 has undergone a laundry list of mechanical restoration and features Webber “Trumpet” carburetors over the North American-spec mechanical fuel injection system.

Sure, the ‘73 will run you the cost of a new Mustang GT. And the ‘74? It’s Dark Horse money.

But if you want a truly analogue car that makes you feel close to something real, if you’re more interested in a driving experience than you are in chest-thumping on the Internet, or if you prefer that espresso to a gas station energy drink, then I think one of these is for you.

For me, I’d hope owning the car would encourage me to learn a little more Italian — maybe just by reading through the old maintenance manuals. At the very least, I’m sure the owners of the gelato shop across the street would get a kick out of it.