A110 1600S Gr. 3 "Lightweight" 1972
- Jürgen Clauss
- Sep 1, 2022
- 8 min read
Updated: May 17
HISTORY
LIGHTWEIGHT INSTEAD DISPLACEMENT - THE SOUL OF THE 1600S GR. 3
The Alpine A110 1600S Gr. 3 – Motorsport for Idealists
It was never sheer power that made this machine so irresistible. No flared arches, no horsepower showboating, no thunderous arrogance. The Alpine A110 1600S in Group 3 specification was a different kind of sports car – subtle, sharp, and light. It seemed tailor-made for drivers who followed their hearts more than their wallets.
A full-blown factory race car? Not quite. It was the sports car of choice for the committed privateer – for those who approached racing with sincere dedication rather than multi-million budgets. The 1600S Gr. 3 was no brute.
It was a sensitive instrument of precision. Less a blast down the straight than a dance along the ideal line.
Almost stock – but full of character
Visually, it remained restrained. At first glance, it was hardly distinguishable from a street-legal Berlinette – charming, compact, familiar. But those who looked closer, or pressed a flat hand against the hood, doors, or roof, felt it instantly: weight wasn’t trimmed here – it was worshipped. Fiberglass instead of steel. Feeling instead of force.
Beneath its featherweight skin, a tuned racing engine brought the car to life – not overly powerful, but vicious when provoked. The gear ratios were tailored with purpose: short, tight, and crisp. Every part of the car demanded engagement – and rewarded brave drivers with every corner attacked, every shift executed with precision.
Reduction to the essentials
KollegeIts safety equipment followed the same function-first logic: roll bar, four-point harness, a battery cut-off switch – one du gerade meiner Webseite rumbasteln Arsch und da hab ich grad gar nichts gesehenmounted on the dashboard, one gibt es Neues Ich musste wieder zurückon the front fender. No decorative nonsense. No spectacle.
Just what truly mattered.
JaThe doch doch doch doch doch ich seh grad nur ich driver’s seat? Usually swapped at the factory for an uncompromising bucket seat by Mod Plastia – pure, narrow, brutally honest. Not everyone could even fit comfortably in the tight cockpit.
The passenger seat, on the other hand, often remained stock. The result was an interior like a collage – asymmetrical,
yet expressive. One seat built for battle, the other for the quiet ride home.
Four Yellow Ones for a Hallelujah
An unforgettable sight: four Alpine A110 1600S Gr. 3s in deep yellow, lined up like pearls on a string, ready for their next run. The Swiss importer clearly had a preference for this color – and gave customers little say in the matter.
Where blue usually dominated, here it was yellow that blazed a trail of individuality.
The second car from the right – that one’s mine.
Slalom event in Frauenfeld, Switzerland. Wet tarmac, electric air. Every meter a love letter to the philosophy of lightness. Every pass through the pylons a manifesto against gigantism. No noise spectacle, no brute force – just precision, passion, and a driving sensation that becomes an addiction
TRACKDAY HOCKENHEIM
JULI 1981
SISTERS IN CRIME
A Road Movie of a Different Kind
A scene that warms the heart: two companions, united for a fleeting moment, setting off on a grand journey into the unknown – a weary-looking Renault Estafette, loyal like an old friend, and on her back, the cheeky Alpine, brimming with energy, ready to steal the spotlight at Hockenheim.
You can almost hear her sigh, the third-generation Estafette, as she bravely pulls away from the outskirts of Zurich with her modest 70 horsepower from 1,289 cm³. Her cargo may be light in weight, but heavy with history. It surely wasn’t an easy ride, that road heading south. But still, they drove – because back then, people drove simply for the love of it. Passion didn’t need a plan.
It’s a sight like something from a faded photo album – yet so alive. You can feel the rumble, smell the gasoline, sense the breeze through the cracked-open driver’s window of that old bus. A duo that turned heads – surely back then, and even more so today. And within this unlikely alliance lies a quiet kind of magic: a tender blend of pragmatism and poetry,
of workshop oil and racing dreams.
Did they make it through the road trip without a breakdown? No one knows – and maybe that’s exactly what makes the story beautiful. What remains is the image of two sisters in spirit, unequal in shape but united in soul. One hunchbacked and humble, the other sleek and rebellious – yet both on the same journey. Departed together, arrived together.
And the Alpine? She showed what she was made for at the Hockenheimring – corner-hungry, feather-light, a celebration of joy on four wheels. And her driver? He was probably still grinning long after the engine had gone silent.
SEARCH AND RESCUE
BARN FIND
APRIL 2019
At first glance, she feels like a silent magnet, irresistibly capturing the heart. The matte yellow has lost none of its original radiance, the velvety glow of her first paint tells stories of days gone by.
Her scars, dents, scratches, bubbles appear like ancient runes, mysterious and full of meaning, bearing witness to a long, silently endured suffering.
But the initial infatuation quickly gives way to sober reality. Step back a few paces and she seems ready to spring back to life at any moment, ready to conquer the road. Yet the closer you get, the clearer the truth becomes - weaknesses, signs of age, pushing the dream of a spontaneous joyride far into the distance.
For over three decades, she lived in the wrong place, retired in the mid-eighties, hastily stored in a dusty barn, forgotten by the world and left to fate. For more than 35 years, she rested there, unmoved, while moisture silently gnawed at her.
The exterior is dotted with tiny bubbles—silent marks formed by moisture trapped beneath the yellow paint, diminishing the life within the fiberglass. Her chrome trim carries rust spots like tears of times gone by. A glance beneath confirms what the surface suggests, rust everywhere, seized mechanical parts, and fabric worn and weathered by time.
This aged lady demands more than repairs, she demands love, care, attention, the gentle hand that will awaken her soul once more. For in her heart beats the promise of renewed shine, of freedom on wheels and the magic of times past, just waiting to be rekindled.
BLOOD SWEAT & TEARS
DISMANTLING
MAY 2019
No, it wasn’t love at first sight, rather a gentle approach, step by step, a cautious exploration that took time to grow. Months of contemplation, two visits, until I finally surrendered to the seductive charm of the Frenchwoman with Swiss roots. She entrusted herself to me, ready for her beauty treatment, ready to bloom again under my hands.
Compared to all the restorations of recent years, this project seemed like a child’s play, or so I thought at first. Relatively speaking, the effort was indeed less than a full body-off restoration. Yet, as soon as I began, more than just the surface revealed itself: hidden weaknesses, small ailments that demanded more time than expected. The path to completion stretched out patiently.
At the start, the chassis along with the suspension, engine, and gearbox received a gentle cleaning with dry ice, almost a tender touch that lifted old dirt away from new dreams. Then came the complete dismantling, engine and gearbox were carefully taken apart, inspected and refurbished. Defects on the underside were delicately repaired with fiberglass mats and every attached part was given renewed attention and care.
The original paint, that unmistakable shell with its unique patina, was to remain untouched.
It is the precious memory of her history, the heart we dared not break.
REASSEMBLY
HIDE-AND-SEEK
The originality of this 1600S was nothing short of a small miracle, a time capsule from a bygone era. Every detail sat in its rightful place, as if time itself had stood still. No misguided interventions, no reckless tinkering, no ill-conceived modifications , just an honest, unaltered witness to history.
A Berlinette, forgotten in a barn, it sounds like danger, the threat of damage from long neglect, of decay. And yet, that very abandonment became her salvation: she had escaped the greedy hands of tuners, the overly inventive customizers and modifiers who so often destroy more than they preserve. A game of hide-and-seek with fate, where time played on her side.
And so, she preserved her soul, her integrity, a quiet treasure, waiting patiently to be brought back to life.
BACK ON TRACK
HELLO MRS. SUNSHINE
AUGUST 2020
Like a queen on a country outing, she rolls through the summer landscape, accompanied by a sea of sunflowers that turn their heads like faithful admirers toward the bright yellow of her body.
It is as if nature itself holds its breath to pay her tribute – forests, fields, and flower meadows seem to have been created especially for her, so intimately does she blend with her surroundings.
"Mrs. Sunshine" carries the light within her – not despite, but precisely because of her patina. Cracks and fine lines on her surface tell stories like smile lines on a face that knows life. Her face speaks of experience, of adventures, of a past you can feel.
And even though time has left its mark on her, her allure remains unbroken. More than that – she has gained depth. Mature and full of grace, she draws the gaze, not like a fleeting flirtation, but like an old love that has never faded.
GET OUT AND DRIVE
YELLOW - THE NEW BLUE
They say Jean Rédélé dedicated himself to “Bleu de France” – that noble racing color which represented France on the tracks of the world. And so we know it, the Alpine A110: as a blue missile that devoured curves, conquered hill climbs, and found its place in the halls of motorsport fame.
Blue like the sea, like the sky above Monte Carlo, a legend cast in paint.
But beyond the racetracks, Rédélé revealed himself to be generous, open to diversity, to color, to character. He allowed the production vehicles a colorful life, gave them a dress of their choosing. And they came: orange, passionately red, pure white and also in sunny yellow. Brave customers chose the unconventional and let their Berlinette shine in the sunlight. But time took its toll. Many of these colorful beauties later fell victim to conformity – repainted to match the blue myth. And so today, shades of blue dominate, as if it were the only true garment.
But wait – look at her, in yellow! How she glows, how she dances in the light! Is she not just as enchanting? Perhaps even freer, bolder, more alive?
A sunbeam on wheels and suddenly, blue almost feels like the past.
Because sometimes, the new isn’t loud – it’s simply yellow.
CAR IN DETAIL
SHE SPARKLES LIKE SUNSHINE
She doesn’t sparkle like chrome, not like freshly polished paint, she sparkles like sunshine: warm, honest, alive.
A shine born of stories, not machines.
The battery cut-off switch on the front right fender, a sign of her purpose.
The yellow CIBIE IODE fog lamps, like golden eyes, ready to fight their way through fog and night.
And the two different seats, testaments to lived individuality – like two characters in a story who don’t have to be alike to belong together.
The Monoblock cast wheels typical of the A110, crafted using ancient sand-casting technique, tell in their rough patina of heat, of asphalt, of movement. No gloss, no dazzle – just pure material, raw and real. Their surface is like dry earth after a summer day – dull, yet full of life. Many paint over them, but purists know, true beauty needs no color.
And then there are those faded stickers – yellowed, weathered, a little crooked, and yet full of magic.
Like postcards from another time, they cling to her metal skin, completing the picture of a heroine who never fell because she never stopped being herself.
This bodywork carries no perfection – it carries history. And not even the most talented hand of a painter could ever compose such a poem of patina, color, and memory. Because what shines here is not the paint – it is the soul.
