From Goodfellas to Good Handling: A Milano Through the Years
Italians don’t want a slice of your sad excuse of a homemade pizza if it isn’t made with San Marzano tomatoes. You might say they're picky, but they'd insist that tradition comes first, and if you’d just hauled yourself to the corner bodega, you could’ve made a proper pizza. Make jokes about their animated hands and relentless logic, but everything they touch carries a deep, unapologetic pride and emotion. The cars they produce are no different, and Victor Troia’s 1987 Alfa Romeo Milano is no exception. It arrived at his work a week after he won it on a Bring a Trailer auction with a broken radio, fuel smell, and a console full of dollar shooters. Some might say things were off to a bad start, but this isn’t Victor’s first Alfa Romeo, so he likes his cars with a bit of Arrabbiata spice, and the flaws are simply part of the charm. Plus, his Milano is more than just a car. It’s a portal to his childhood, a symbol of cultural identity, a tribute to his father, and an expression of who he is—someone proudly different.
Victor always thought the Milano was cool, until he was shoved into the back seat every time his dad wanted to cheat traffic over the Verrazano bridge. Though mildly rebellious in his adolescence like most of us, he always acknowledged that the Milano represented a personal milestone for his father, not to mention the ultimate Italian-dad flex in ’90s Brooklyn, when everyone thought they were in Goodfellas. His father took great pride in anything Italian. From athletes winning at the Olympics to regional Italian music, his dad showed him anything tied to his Italian roots; even if Victor rolled his eyes. However, the Milano had an Italian charm that resonated with Victor, who hoped it would become his first set of wheels. Years later as Victor entered high school, the Milano was too old to be cool, and too new to be vintage—at least in the eyes of other high schoolers who didn’t know what they were looking at when Victor got dropped off. Still, Victor didn’t mind. Like the Milano, which stood out among the sea of compact sedans, he embraced his individuality and had no interest in chasing whatever was popular at the moment. While the hype was all about Jordans, he deliberately picked the Gary Paytons, unbothered by opinions and quick to defend his choice. People tend to fall into routines, and when they break from the norm without a clear purpose, it can come off as forced or cliché. But in the case of both Victor and the Alfa Romeo, their eccentricities are intentional, with real thought behind their differences. Around the time Victor was gearing up to take his license exam, his dad made the tough call to sell the Milano. It had been with him for a decade, and the regret hit almost as soon as the keys left his hand. Victor, who was looking forward to driving it, was also upset, but it wasn’t until moving to San Diego nearly two decades later that he set out to find another one.
Between getting more involved with the car community, developing a greater understanding of the Milano’s traits, and being bit by the nostalgia bug, Victor’s appreciation for the Milano grew stronger, even after years of putting it on the back burner. That might come as a surprise to those who don’t have this Italian sedan on their radar, but after learning more about the Milano, I’m convinced that it has been overlooked, and is severely underrated. It might not have been a top seller compared to the BMW E30 and Mercedes-Benz 190e when new, but it effortlessly outperformed them both. The sharp driving characteristics are courtesy of a rear mounted transaxle—something you'd expect to find in a Porsche 944, not a compact sedan. Stare through the rear spokes and you won’t see a rotor and caliper until you look deeper and discover inboard rotors, which reduce the rotating mass of the wheel hub assembly. Quirky? Definitely. While it may seem unconventional, this blend of engineering choices results in a finely tuned balance, allowing the Milano to handle with the agility and precision of a sports coupe, far spicier and more engaging than your average family friendly sedan. The cherry on top of this legendary configuration is the 2.5 liter Busso V6, which many enthusiasts consider to be the best sounding V6 engine ever produced. Remember when I said Italian cars are all about emotion? Well the Busso V6 is a prime example, and was engineered to produce a grin inducing growl, instead of the raspy tone associated with most V6 engines. Even though the Milano was tailored for American car buyers, it shamelessly showcases Italian tradition in a number of ways which stretch much further than the drivetrain alone.
Interestingly, the “Milano” nameplate was originally exclusive to the U.S. Europe only recently received a car called the “Milano Veloce,” but Alfa was forced to change its name because it wasn’t built in Italy—an unacceptable offense in the eyes of proud Italians. Just like they refuse to call something pizza unless it uses mozzarella di Bufala, Italian pride in tradition is unwavering. The front fascia features Alfa Romeo’s signature “Trilobo” grill, which makes the Milano instantly recognisable as an Alfa, even if you saw one and aren’t familiar with the model. The exterior features a rubber-clad belt line which stretches around the entire length of the body. The geometric C pillars and quarter panels give it 1980s mass appeal, while maintaining a wedge-shaped silhouette typical of 1980s Italian design. Its rubber trunk spoiler and short rear overhang remind me of an Audi Quattro, but make no mistake, the Milano is far from a copycat, I just can’t help but find similarities where they exist. The Italian flair extends to the interior, which has some unique design elements, and features enough creature comforts for Americans without any unnecessary nonsense. Overlapping the center console is a parking brake handle as stylistic as it is ergonomic, and looks like a thrust lever—or for Americans, the handle of an Igloo beer cooler. Despite being built for the American market, it doesn't have cup holders—because only Chrysler would encourage their customers to cart a Big Gulp to their call center job in ‘87. What it does have is a cigarette lighter, prominently placed and marked with a four-leaf clover. It saw heavy use in Victor’s dad’s Milano in the early '90s, and now serves as a nostalgic centerpiece in the Milano Victor recently bought to recapture a piece of his childhood.
You know that one car from your childhood that your family sold before you could even drive it? For Victor Troia, it was an Alfa Romeo Milano—an offbeat Italian sedan that his dad loved like it was a Ferrari. Years later, after moving to San Diego, Victor finally tracked down another Milano. Sure, it showed up with a busted radio, reeking of fuel, and stocked with dollar liquor shooters, but to Victor, that just added to the flavor. His enduring appreciation for it never faded over the years, but resurfaced strongly when nostalgia began to hit. His recent purchase is more than a car; it’s a time machine to Victor’s Brooklyn childhood, complete with traffic-dodging, back-seat exile, and an unshakeable sense of identity… Minus the secondhand smoke.
