Driving the 2015 Alfa Romeo 4C: You're trying to seduce us, aren't you?

The Alfa Romeo 4C is not a Porsche Cayman fighter, nor is it a Lotus. It’s not an everyday street car, and it’s definitely not a track car. So what is it?

After spending a day driving through the cluttered streets of San Francisco, the rolling country roads around Stinson Beach and finally an afternoon lapping Sonoma Raceway, I had an epiphany: I’ve not a bloody clue what it is, but I love it nonetheless.

It’s been almost two decades since Alfa Romeo last sold a car on U.S. shores – notwithstanding a few forgettable 8Cs sold between 2007 and 2010, cars even Alfa didn’t acknowledge in its briefings. The 4C, therefore, is the machine set to put the Italian automaker back on the American map, and begin the lofty goal of selling 150,000 cars annually on our shores by 2018.

That's not likely, but with the 4C, Alfa makes a strong case for not just relevence, but respect.

As any true car enthusiast will tell you, owning a proper Alfa Romeo sports car at some point in life is a must. It’s a brand – like Ferrari – with a history and a soul. But unlike Ferrari, owning one is a realistic, attainable goal. The problem is that recent Alfas sold in Europe haven’t been particularly exciting, and that Italian spark has diminished somewhat. In America, our Alfas are old enough to be sold mainly to masochists who enjoy fixing as much as driving. Our expectations of modern Alfas are perhaps unrealistically high – much like those sales targets.

The 4C has an impressive sports-car resume, starting with a 2,465 lb. curb weight (that’s roughly 300 lbs. heavier than the European 4C, though, due to additional safety regulations and more equipment as standard). Still, it’s exceptionally light, thanks to a carbon-fiber monocoque – something that’s typically reserved for high-end super cars.

It also doesn’t have power steering, and I don’t just mean no electric steering, but no assist whatsoever (better dust off the old dumbbells). This delivers a sensation through the tarmac, up the column and into your palms that many young drivers may have never felt outside a riding lawnmower. It’s heavy at low speed, but not as bad as I expected. When pedaling at a decent click, it’s incredibly refreshing and raw. The day I come to power is the day power steering in sports cars will be banned. Followed by enforcing life imprisonment for anyone who uses the word “selfie.”

Pushing the 4C to 60 mph in 4.3 seconds is a turbocharged 1.7-liter four cylinder, good for 237 hp and 258 lb.-ft. through the rear wheels. Unlike most automakers who are reaping the efficiency benefits while feigning the delivery of a naturally aspirated engine, Alfa has embraced the turbo’s deficiencies. The whooshing from the wastegate is all encompassing, and the lag is massive. But it’s an occasion. It’s enjoyable to experience the lurch as it spools, and, like the steering, it takes you back in time. It’s as if Alfa didn’t care about smooth power delivery, or a refined engine note. It’s uncut, unfiltered; the Italian automaker describes the 4C as the purest expression of driving, and it's bang on with that assessment.

So. It’s lightweight with plenty of power – despite a relatively diminutive motor – and it’s brimming with character. The seven-speed twin-clutch gearbox derives from the Dodge Dart – which has a truly awful transmission – but it’s been reworked into something that’s not half bad. Shifts are reasonably fast and there’s a nice level of ferocity with each click of the paddle. It’s certainly not on par with ze Germans, but it’s better than the autobox in the new Corvette.

No manual is available, which by now we’re all accustomed to. But this is one of those cars that screams for a stick. It’s weird, actually: no power steering, no frills, lightweight, purest expression, etc., and yet no manual?

Talking of no frills, the interior is bare. There are no carpets, no glove box, an exposed carbon tub, no door pockets, no infotainment screen – therefore no navigation. (There are cupholders, however. Even one that will fit your Big Gulp.)

And yet I love it. Driving the 4C is an adventure, and that transcends into the cabin.

On the country roads the sensations are magical; you have plenty of grip and an excellent balance. The 4C has its own distinct character, that feeling of the car as animal that so many modern machines have hunted to extinction. It's a hoary cliché, but it’s absolutely true: The 4C is alive.

Other things the 4C doesn’t have: Adaptive dampers, for one, so the ride is quite firm. And with an incredibly quick steering rack (likely to eliminate the need for lots of arm-wrenching lock), the car hunts on highways, following the undulations and the cambers of the road. It means you can never relax, which gets annoying during a long drive. But then the turbo whooshes again. And you don’t care.

I was falling for the 4C quite badly. Starting at $55,000 with an average sale-price in the low $60,000, no cars (not even a new ‘Vette) can match the little Alfa for theatrics. But then I drove it on track. And I became mightily confused.

I had expected Lotus-like agility. And yet what I found was a slightly faster, but poorly-handling, Subaru BRZ. It had very little grip (like the BRZ on its Prius tires). And that excellent balance on the street was gone, leaving me with big understeer, followed by snap oversteer, then more understeer, followed by whatever it felt like at the time. It got better as I trail-braked into the corner to keep the front end pinned to aid in rotation, but then the rear pivots badly, meaning I couldn’t attack the entry of the corner as much as I’d like.

It was fun, though, sliding and drifting the entire time. But the 4C doesn’t feel like it uses its tires properly; it doesn’t dig in and grip. It floats on the surface, never fully settling. And it’s unpredictable. The character that charmed me on the road became a nuisance – like the excessive turbo lag. It also felt underpowered, and the gear changes are a bit tardy.

This was a disappointment. But the more I thought about it, the more I began to forgive the little Italian. For one, just look at it… it’s beautiful (I even had an older woman stop me on the streets of San Fran to gawk: “Is this the new Spyder?” she said in disbelief. Thanks to "The Graduate," Alfa will never die.) How can you stay mad at a face like the Alfa’s? And how many people will take a 4C to the track?

So Alfa’s focus on mastering the canyon roads rather than tearing up racetracks makes perfect sense. I had expected it to do both, if I'm honest. But where it matters – on the streets – I was besotted. And I mean properly in love.

So what is this car? It’s not a Cayman; that’s way more refined. And it’s not a Lotus; it isn’t good enough on track. It’s not a cruiser, it’s not multi-talented and it isn’t a straight-up brute like a Corvette. It’s not a mini-Ferrari, either.

It’s an Alfa Romeo. A pureblooded, Italian stallion – the very car we enthusiasts have dreamed about for 20 years.

Disclosure: For this article, the writer’s transportation, meals and lodging costs were paid for by one or more subjects of the article. Yahoo does not promise to publish any stories or provide coverage to any individual or entity that paid for some or all of the costs of any of our writers to attend an event.