This car broke me. I very nearly wept when returning it.

And a few hours earlier, I'd been contemplating how five years of building up a career in motoring journalism might as well end with me stealing the car and driving off into the sunset.

It had all been for this. I had reached peak car.

Go on the internet and you'll find reams written about this phenomenon - how Alfa Romeos just get under your skin. Enthusiasts use words like passion, charisma and emotion a lot to describe it.

They'll also quote a famous man who once said, "You can't be a true petrolhead until you've owned an Alfa Romeo", normally glossing over what he was also implying – that Alfa Romeos break down a lot.

But as a man who has keys to two of his own – a 2018 Stelvio and a 2006 159 Sportwagon – it's safe to say I've well and truly fallen for them. Hook, line and, crucially, wallet.

And I did again this week.

The question is: should you?

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At a glance

What we liked

• Razor-sharp, wonderfully direct steering

• Glorious 2.9-litre twin-turbo V6

• One of the best-looking sedans ever made

What we didn't

• Ageing infotainment system and uncooperative Apple CarPlay

• Grabby brakes in stop-start traffic

• Having to give it back

What is it?

The Giulia is practically geriatric by today's standards. It was unveiled in 2015, arriving in Australia in 2017 alongside its SUV sibling, the Stelvio, as part of a no-expense-spared €5 billion blaze to revive Alfa Romeo.

At the time, the brand was under Fiat Chrysler Automobiles (FCA) and its formidable CEO, Sergio Marchionne. And the engineers were apparently given licence to obsess over everything: the styling, the 50:50 front-to-rear weight distribution, extensive use of aluminium, and even a carbon-fibre prop shaft.

They also tapped on the back some engineers with Ferrari experience to effectively lop a couple of cylinders off Ferrari's twin-turbo V8 to create the Quadrifoglio's 2.9-litre twin-turbo V6.

Even the Stelvio, an SUV that might ordinarily be regarded as a turd floating in the pure waters of a motorsport-bred brand, won over the Alfisti. Even Jeremy Clarkson once said that if he had to own an SUV, it would be a Stelvio Quadrifoglio.

Even the wheels make you pause and gawk.

FCA merged with PSA Group to form Stellantis in 2021. And, quite rightly, the new parent company has been rather reluctant to mess with either car. There have been facelifts, bringing sexy new triple-element headlights and improved infotainment. But the fundamentals remain largely unchanged.

And will for some time yet.

Stellantis did announce plans for Alfa to become a fully electric brand by 2027, but such were the pitchforks, it U-turned that decision and said, no, actually they would adopt a "multi-energy future".

And you know how Giulia and Stelvio production was meant to wind up in mid-2025? Yeah, that's been blown out to the end of 2027.

Alfa even showed the Cuorerosso concept at the 2026 Paris Motor Show, featuring an electrified version of the same 2.9-litre V6. 

So there's hope for the petrolhead yet.

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What's it like to live with?

As a geriatric car, let's get the annoying stuff out of the way first.

For the entire week, I couldn't, for the life of me, get Apple CarPlay working on the rather dinky central touchscreen. The system supports it, apparently. It just didn't seem particularly interested in supporting me. Bluetooth worked fine, and the audio through the Harman Kardon sound system was mighty. But maps? Nope.

A depressing amount of my week was also spent commuting in traffic, where the grabby brakes became a little wearying.

But that's about it.

Survive these tests of fortitude, and the rewards are immense.

Like the steering. It is so sharp and direct. When I bought my Stelvio, the previous owner warned me that I'd get into every other SUV afterwards and wonder why its steering wheel was set in yoghurt. It's the same here. A little turn, and the front wheels respond immediately. 

All start buttons should be red.

Combined with the seating position and compact-feeling chassis, it's a car you can wield with the dexterity of your favourite pen. Even if I defy anyone to tell the difference between a car with 50:50 weight distribution and, say, 60:40. That's getting into the realms of knowing what an ant had for breakfast after running over one.

Obviously, it's quick, too. The 2.9-litre twin-turbo V6 produces 375kW and 600Nm, sent to the rear wheels through an eight-speed automatic transmission.

And it sounds wonderful. Although perhaps not quite as loudly as you'd expect.

Because this is an ageing car, there's no convenient button to open the exhaust flaps independently. You need to select Dynamic mode on the DNA drive-mode dial. Or Race mode. But Race also disables the electronic stability control, which is worth remembering in a rear-wheel-drive car with 375kW and a tendency to get rather exuberant in corners.

Yep, ex-Ferrari engineers were involved in the creation of this beast.

Inside, there's a lot of black, which might be a little German for some people's liking. But the engine start button is bright red and mounted on the steering wheel, while carbon-fibre trim covers the dashboard, doors and centre console. So all is still right with the world.

Besides, your head will still be swimming in the sheer beauty of the exterior. My test car was finished in Montreal Green, a colour that seems to have been invented specifically to make people fall hopelessly in love with it.

The proportions. The curves. The angry vents. The squat rear diffuser with its four exhaust pipes. Those gorgeous 19-inch wheels. People travel across the world to study the Sistine Chapel and bask in its scale and detail. This should be on the list, too.

Phwoah.

Should you buy one?

Yes. Yes. Yes.

I'm not sure why you're still reading. There really isn't much more to say.

Look, a BMW M3 is considerably more advanced on the technology front. You might even be able to get Apple CarPlay working. And an Audi RS4 is a mean-looking thing, too.

But neither has ever made me feel quite like this. The easy thing to do at this point would be to wheel out all the usual words. Passion. Charisma. Emotion. But I'm going to go with raw.

No other car I've driven has put so few filters between me and what's happening underneath it. Maybe that's an indictment of modern cars, with their regenerative brakes, increasingly electronic controls and endless attempts to protect us from the business of driving. But I don't think so. And no other sedan looks this good.

The Giulia Quadrifoglio deserves to go down in history as one of the greatest cars ever made.

But please, Stellantis. We're not ready for it to go just yet.