The Alfa Romeo Junior Ibrida Made Me Feel Rich For About 30 Seconds

I was at Millbrook for the SMMT test day. That’s the bit you’re meant to say first, like anyone cares, but it matters because the whole day is just you hopping between cars like you’re picking snacks from a buffet you can’t afford. I’d already driven a few electric cars, and they all do the same party trick. You put your foot down and the car goes instantly, so for a moment you start thinking you’re a better driver than you are, when really the car is doing the heavy lifting and you’re just sat there with your large and inflated ego.

Then I wandered over and asked if I could have a go in the Alfa Romeo Junior Ibrida. Not because I needed to, but because I saw an Alfa SUV and my brain immediately went, right, this is going to be posh and expensive and a bit grand. It’s red as well, which helps the illusion. Red makes everything look like it costs more, even if it’s a toaster.

The funny thing is my “this is expensive” moment wasn’t the door shutting with a fancy thunk or the smell of new materials. It was literally just the idea of it. Alfa. SUV. New. I was careful getting in like I was borrowing someone’s watch and I didn’t know how much it was worth, so I was holding it with the sort of respect you normally reserve for things you can’t replace with a single panic payment.

As soon as I pulled away, what I noticed wasn’t power or steering or anything clever. It was the simple fact I was in a bigger, brand new car that wasn’t mine. I’m 6’2” and I daily a Peugeot 107, which means my normal driving position is basically collapsed. In the Alfa I was higher up, less cramped, and I didn’t feel like I was wearing the car. It felt like the car was around me, which is what an SUV is supposed to do, even if I still think the whole genre is a bit of a con.

Visually, I’m still torn on it. From some angles it works, especially the side. The front, though, has too much going on. I don’t get why they felt the need to write Alfa Romeo on the front like they were worried you’d forget. Just give me the blacked-out badge and let me get on with my life. I like blacked-out things. My ideal SUV is basically a fully blacked-out Range Rover, because I’m common and boring like that, and I’m at peace with it.

The rear didn’t do much for me either. It didn’t have that “pretty Alfa” feeling. It felt like they were trying too hard, which is never a good look on a car, because you can sense the committee decisions through the paint.

Inside is where it made more sense. It felt clean and simple, and I liked that. The screen isn’t massive, the layout is straightforward, and the physical climate buttons are a proper win because I don’t want to change temperature by doing admin. The best little detail was the embroidered serpent thing in the seats. It’s daft, but it’s Alfa daft, and that’s exactly what you want because it makes the car feel like it has some character instead of just being another small SUV with a different badge.

Millbrook has hills on the route, and that’s where I tried to have a bit of fun. Foot down in auto, knock it down a gear, see what happens. There’s one bit I remember because it forces you to concentrate. The first turn is a steep drop into a sharp left-hander, and you have to be careful, but it’s also the kind of corner where you end up pretending the road is wider than it is because you’re treating it like a track. I shouldn’t have done that, but I did it anyway.

Handling-wise it was pretty sound. It felt relatively light for an SUV, and it sat somewhere between being a bit Alfa tight and a bit granny-pace safe, which is probably what it’s meant to do. The problem was the power, I kept waiting for it to wake up and it never really did. It just felt a bit soft. Not slow, but soft, like it was always half a second away from doing what you asked.

It’s still quicker than my 107, obviously. In my car you put your foot down and you’re waiting for it to arrive like a jack-in-the-box that can’t be bothered. The Alfa wasn’t that bad, but it didn’t give me the shove I wanted either, and if I’m getting excited about an Alfa badge, I want at least one moment where it makes me grin like a moronic child.

The gearbox was the bit I properly liked. It was smooth enough, and the semi-auto setup makes life easy. I’m a fan of anything that means I’m not fighting a manual box in traffic, especially when I’m already squashed in my own car and my left leg is doing overtime. In normal life, in stop-start nonsense, it would be a massive help. You can still knock it down a gear when you want to move on, but you don’t have to do the constant shifting routine that just turns every commute into a mild annoyance.

If I owned it for a week, I think the things that would wind me up are the same things that put me off now. The looks feel like they’re trying too hard, and the small SUV shape does that thing where the arches look bigger than they need to be. Once you notice it, you can’t unsee it, and it makes the whole car look like it’s wearing the wrong size shoes. I also just wouldn’t choose a small SUV anyway. I’d rather have a big, powerful hatchback and be honest about what I am.

So that was the Junior. Nice day, glad I did it, glad I got to drive it, and I still feel lucky I got invited to something like that when I hadn’t been in the industry long. But I wouldn’t buy that car, and I wouldn’t buy a new one full stop. If I’ve ever got that sort of money, I’m buying used, probably something like a Golf GTI, or maybe R, even if my parents keep telling me to lease one like it’s a normal thing to suggest.

The Junior made a good first impression, then it stopped feeling grand, then it reminded me why I’m not built for small SUVs. That’s basically the story.