I was riding with my cousin in his Peugeot 306 on a June day when the topic of what car I drove came up. At the time, my daily driver was a 1988 Milano. I started to explain what an Alfa 75 looks like.

“A four door sedan, kind of boxy. You know, the ones the cops used in Italy in the early 90s. Does that help at all?”

“.. not one bit.”

I told him I’d show him a photo and with that, the subject was dropped in favor of us two taking turns pointing out how hot it was. Not five minutes later, I saw a worn out Alfa 75 2.4 TD parked at a shop and pointed it out to him. As we drove past, I noticed more Alfas—a 33, an Alfetta, a Super, a Spider and another 33. The second 33 had a trailer with the remains of a 2000 GTV on it. Thinking that GTV would be worth a look, I asked my cousin to turn around at the next roundabout.

He parked, I told him I’d just be a second and stepped out. At that moment, I unknowingly set foot in what I feel safe calling one of the largest Alfa Romeo shops in Europe: Giglio Racing Services in Toulon, France.

The GTV was fairly rust free but missing just about everything, it had been dragged there from somebody’s driveway. The Super behind it wasn’t much better off. A very nice Giulietta Spider was parked a couple of cars away and behind it was an opening to their parts lot. Without entering, I looked: rows upon rows upon rows of mostly Italian cars, the majority of them Alfas, although from where I was standing I spotted a couple of Lancias and an Autobianchi.

I went into their office and asked if I could wander around for a bit. They put forth no objections so, much to my cousin’s chagrin, I went in.

Now, I had been impressed with what I had seen from outside. I entered and saw that in addition to what I had seen, the parts lot extended pretty far to the left. 75s by the dozens, 164s, Alfa6s, Alfettas, 155s, Supers, 90s, Berlinas, Alfasuds, 33s, the works. If it’s come out of Arese, there was a run down and/or stripped down specimen of it here. In addition to that, they had a myriad of Fiats (notably 126s), Lancias (including Deltas), Autobianchi A112s, Peugeots, Renaults, Citroens and the like.

By then I had forgotten about my cousin waiting in the Peugeot and was walking towards the back of the lot. As I walked further, the cars got older. The very end of it was almost exclusively older cars. GTVs, Berlinas, Supers, the occasional Fiat 500 and a Lancia Flaminia. The real kicker is that while a good number of cars were beyond repair, quite a number of them were salvageable. A rust free Super with a complete (if worn) interior sticks out in my memory. Worth mentioning that the car is now gone, hopefully off to be restored.

Then I noticed a green, rusty stepnose GTV shell resting on top of an Alfetta GT. I immediately recognized it: a couple of years prior, I had bought a classic car magazine in a train station. It was an issue specially dedicated to Alfas and they featured two shops. A shop in the north of France and this one. The GTV shell on the Alfetta was pictured on the first page of the article.

Despite all this, the real treat came inside their shop. They had a Montreal registered in England, a GTam replica, the restored shell of a Super undergoing reassembly on a rotisserie and - I couldn’t believe it - a TZ2! A real TZ2! They were nice enough to let me near it but I was not allowed to take the cover off all the way, just a bit off the front. The back was not covered, revealing the black panel that so many race cars from the 1960s got a good view of. The back of the shop was littered with drivetrain parts. Engines, transmissions, clutch discs, everything was stored in disarray, on the floor, on shelves, on cars, under cars.

I thanked the employees who had let me tour the place, made it back to the Peugeot and we went on our way. I explained to my cousin what I had seen but, to somebody who doesn’t pay much attention to cars, it didn’t mean much. To this day, every time I visit my cousin I pay Giglio Racing Services a visit as well, dreaming of dragging home one of their parts cars.

Tags: Anecdote.