Totem GT Electric: It’s like an Alfa, only better

Gorgeous: the Totem GT Electric

I was drawn recently to a ­photograph of a car that had been posted on Instagram by a virtually unknown Italian company called Totem. I was so drawn, in fact, that I decided to follow the company, and pretty soon I got a direct message asking if I’d like to drive the car they’d made.

I replied saying that I was planning on a trip to Sicily anyway and could maybe try it out there. And because they are based near Venice, which is what a cartographer would call “a very long way from Sicily”, I expected to hear nothing back. But no. When I arrive at my hotel there it is, in the courtyard.

It looks like a restored 1960s Alfa Romeo Giulia GTA, but in fact it’s a completely new car. It has a carbon-fibre monocoque and a carbon-fibre body, and instead of an Alfa engine under the bonnet there’s nothing at all, just a leather-trimmed empty space. Because this car is electric.

It’s the brainchild of a chap named Riccardo Quaggio, who worked at Alfa Romeo designing indicator stalks and heater vents for SUVs, until deciding one day that what he really wanted to do was design and build an entire car from scratch. And he has. When he made that decision five years ago, he was 23 years old. At 23 I could barely get up in the morning.

It’s flabbergasting, because cars are governed by so many safety and environmental regulations these days that the project must have been overwhelmingly daunting. “Well, it helps being Italian,” he tells me with a smile.

Inside the Totem GT Electric

Every single detail on this car is exquisite. The radiator grille alone must have taken him a year to make. And you could put the headlights, modelled on hi-fi speakers, in any of the world’s design ­museums. Small wonder Alfa Romeo has ­apparently given him permission to put its badge on the car.

So what was the hardest bit? “The speedometer,” Quaggio tells me. “I just can’t make that work properly at all.” He has also dropped a bit of a clanger with the sun visors, which won’t fold down properly. “I know,” he says. “That’s a mistake but I can mend that.”

So what’s it like to drive? “Fast” is probably the best way of describing it – 445kW fast, 254km/h fast. But, like all electric cars, the sudden burst of speed is always the precursor to a plateau of strangled frustration where the acceleration sort of stops. It’s why his next effort will have a proper engine. “I don’t really like electric cars,” he says. “But they are easier to make, so...”

The most surprising thing, though, is that there are no squeaks or rattles. Not even Alfa can ­manage that half the time. To have produced a car this well screwed ­together, pretty much by yourself, is nothing short of remarkable.

And then there’s the comfort. There’s acres of space inside and, because there’s no engine, two boots – one at the front and one at the back. But it’s not the space or the speed or the silence that impresses most of all. It’s the ride. To say it glides is to do it an ­injustice. It doesn’t matter which driving mode you select, it’s like sitting on a very old, feather-filled sofa in a part of the world that’s geologically notable for being ­extremely stable.

My only real criticism – not the malfunctioning speedo, because this is Sicily, and nobody cares how fast you’re going just so long as you’re not in their way – is the steering. There’s a dullness around the straight ahead and then a ­sudden bite when the car actually starts to turn. Oh, and then there’s the price, which starts at half a million euros (subject to spec).

So you’re not going to buy one. Of course not. Because for that money you could get a proper car that’s been tested by government agencies and men in high-visibility jackets called Colin. So you know it’s safe and kind to the polar bears and the moss and the earwigs. You could have a Ferrari for that kind of money. Two even.

But, and I’ve started to think about this quite a lot in recent months, a car spends maybe 95 per cent of its life in the driveway and only 5 per cent moving us around. Which means you spend a great deal more time looking at it than you do driving it. This means its styling is considerably more important than anything else. And that’s why I find these reimagined old cars so appealing. Because they look much better than anything that’s factory fresh and fitted with a bonger to tell you when you haven’t fastened your seatbelt. Which the Totem isn’t.