The Alfa Romeo Factory Is Just As Horrific As You Could Have Possibly Imagined

When the Alfa Romeo Giulia first hit American shores in 2016, many automotive news outlets were incredibly quick to judge it’s seemingly ridiculous reliability issues. Numerous publications experienced press Giulias that would trigger random check engine lights, failed differentials, and even totally break down in the middle of a comparison review with its German rivals. Though it may be easy to blame much of Giulia’s problems on Italian automobile stereotypes, it’s hard to believe that such a modern and advanced vehicle can prove to be so unreliable. While many of these issues can probably be traced back to the car’s surprisingly short 2.5-year gestation period, I had a gut feeling that there was more to the issue than FCA has been letting on.

Nothing could have possibly prepared me for the horror show that I would come to witness.

This past summer I was privileged enough to attend a guided tour with a group of colleagues at FCA’s Cassino Plant in Cassino, Italy where Giulias, Stelvios, and Giuliettas are manufactured. According to FCA’s website, the Cassino production facility is “A Premium Plant for a Premium Product.” Oddly, they seem to stress the idea of Premium so much that I get the feeling that whoever wrote up the webpage had never seen a thesaurus before.

While FCA may stress the modernity and advanced nature of their production plant, the history of the Cassino facility actually dates all the way back to 1972. It was initially developed by Alfa’s parent company, Fiat, to produce the Fiat 126. A vehicle that had more in common with a tic-tac than an actual car. Over time, the plant has hosted the production of over 15 different models, with nearly 7 million vehicles produced. While those surely are impressive figures, it goes without saying they seem to have been done in typical slap-and-dash Italian fashion.

As soon as we set foot onto the property, the plant reminded me more of a campus than a typical factory complex. There is no one main factory building. Instead, the production of cars is spread between no less than 4 different structures (sadly, we were not allowed to tour every building), with cars flowing in and out of them with the speed of the line. While FCA claims that the facility is “Premium” the buildings we saw clearly had been there for decades and have been adapted and added onto to accommodate the needs of modern production requirements. Only just barely.

When we stepped into the first building in the production line, I noticed something rather peculiar. It was hot. Really hot. In fact, we came to find out that there was no climate control whatsoever. In a car factory. In a Mediterranean climate. At the height of summer. Only the Italians.

As we moved onto the production line of the vehicles, our tour guides explained the automated methods used to produce 2 different cars of the same platform (The Giulia and the Stelvio) simultaneously. While explaining this elaborate process and its significant advantages, we observed a Giulia body shell become trapped in a series of Stelvio tooling. Alarms were blaring, and huge red screens flashed the words “STOP.” Nobody seemed too alarmed. In fact, it almost seemed like a regular occurrence for the workers. After witnessing this clearly bizarre spectacle, we then stuck around to see the extraction of the poor Giulia shell from the confused and arced spot-welders. While companies like Volvo have been using production methods similar to this for decades now, clearly, Alfa has a lot to perfect in this department.

After that, um, interesting experience. We moved onto the reject line. Yes, Alfa Romeo has a reject line. Let me explain. When a completed body shell comes off the initial production line and does not meet factory specifications (i.e., panel gaps, door alignment, missing welds, etc.), it is not simply junked. Instead, it is sent on to a separate line to be reworked to “acceptable” standards. Sadly, the guides would not divulge what was acceptable, but it was clear that there were a lot of rejects. In my short stint, I witnessed 30-40 cars on the floor. For example, there were shells with doors that wouldn’t fit into their openings, missing welds in suspension towers, and blatantly apparent overall panel alignment issues. If these cars had paint jobs, I would have told you they had already been involved in some sort of significant accident. Seriously, they were that bad.

Next, we moved on to the finishing line (we were not allowed to visit the paint shop, unfortunately), and as we passed between buildings, I saw something truly extraordinary. Panels. Bare metal body panels being stored outside. Exposed to all sorts of weather without any semblance of protection. Additionally, utterly bare metal shells have to travel outside the initial production line and make a journey of about half a mile, totally exposed, before making it to the paint shop. Surely, this must render Alfa’s corrosion warranty to be about as reassuring as a condom pinned to a dorm-floor information board.

When we moved on into the finishing building, though we were met with the same sweltering heat as before, there was something refreshing about it. The people. I must say, the employees on Alfa Romeo’s final assembly line have a passion for automobiles, usually only reserved for auto enthusiasts and employees at supercar manufacturers. Many were locals who grew up around the plant with family members working there. They told us stories of growing up around and working on cars. You could tell they had 10w-30 flowing through their veins. Every employee we came across, from infotainment installers to drive-train marrying technicians, was thrilled to be building Alfa Romeos that, after years of mediocre products, could finally have the potential to rival the likes of BMW and Mercedes-Benz.

And there lies the heart of the issue. FCA simply doesn’t seem to care. They have all the perfect ingredients to make a fantastic car that could be a world-beater. They have an engine that (un-admittedly) hails from the legendary house of Ferrari, a design that could easily have been carved by Caravaggio, and an unbelievably passionate and dedicated workforce. They have all the elements necessary to create an exquisite dish, and FCA instead has decided to doctor it all up over a Coleman camping stove. To get the new Giulia and Stelvio out into showrooms quicker, FCA chose to cut corners and save money on the backend rather than take their time to do the job right.

With that in mind, I think it is important to address a question we have been asking ever since the Giulia was revealed. Can Alfa Romeo really compete with the German competition?

With a factory like that, not a chance.