In a Maybach-fighting scenario, only the vast 7 Series and X7 would be suitable conduits. They would have all the walnut trim an oligarch could wish for, but the detail engineering – which in the past has extended to Alpina recasting BMW engine blocks so that they might take an extra turbo – wouldn’t be necessary.
Power? Sure, plenty. But ALP-marked bespoke rubber and minute tweaks to camber and torque distribution to give the dynamics additional lustre? Seems unlikely.
All of which is to say, if you have ever hankered after a factory-fresh Alpina of the trad school, get it now. In fact, a couple of months ago was the ideal time, if you want all the bells and whistles.
A full Lavalina leather interior runs to about £14k, which is why it’s rare to see it on anything less than a B7. However, with the potential imminent demise of the B3 and B5, people are going full Sultan of Brunei and ticking every box in sight.
There has duly been a run on Lavalina, and since the saddlery in Buchloe can only upholster five interiors each month (an XB7 cabin represents around 120 hours of work), it has now been taken off the menu.
So yes, there is a waiting list for having your rear armrest trimmed in the hide of some of the most pampered livestock on the planet, with its ‘cloth-like’ softness. Such is the quirky world of Alpina.
As for why the Bovensiepens are getting out, Alpinas are all about ‘no compromise’, which is currently incompatible with EV tech.
Andreas Bovensiepen has also said that hiring good software engineers would be ruinously expensive, and they would be crucial if Alpina were to continue differentiating itself from BMW on an engineering level. With the brand equity at an all-time high, now is a sensible time to offload.
It really is the end of an era, and as Autocar’s resident Alpina tragic, I find it so sad. Still, there have been some excellent moments.
A D3 S to Turin and back at 40-something-mpg and an unprintable average speed; a B3 from Munich to London in one hit; the elderly chap near Liège who stopped in his tracks at the sight of the B4 S I’d parked up: “Woah, a genuine Al-pee-naah!”
