Running the RS Clio 200 turbo was always
going to be something of an experiment. We knew from the international launch
that it was a totally different proposition from the cars that forged Renaultsport’s
reputation. We also knew this transformation would challenge our perception of
what a quick Clio should be. What we were uncertain of was whether a short
period of adjustment would see us warm to the all-new 200 turbo, or if the
fundamental changes in hardware and character would leave us cold.
First impressions were mixed. The increased
physical size of the new Clio – available only as a five-door – and its
exaggerated design features really took some getting used to. I never quite
came to terms with the profile, for it only seemed to highlight the
surprisingly long wheelbase, but when viewed from other angles and particularly
on the move from another car it had genuine presence. It also got a fair bit of
attention on petrol station forecourts, which is always a good sign. Then
again, Liquid Yellow always looks good under spotlights!
The
Renaultsport Clio 200 Turbo is no longer a manic machine, and will attract
different customers as a result
Like the exterior, the interior design was
something of a culture shock. It all looked and felt a bit mainstream,
especially with no Recaros to remind you were in something special. It wore
well, but looked a bit cheap. The prominent R-Link touchscreen infotainment
system – including the rather bizarre sound synthesiser that mimicked all
manner of classic Renaults (and the Nissan GT-R!) – added some tech over the
spartan previous-gen Clio, but the user interface wasn’t that intuitive and
every now and again it would have a bit of a hissy fit. On one occasion I
couldn’t reduce the booming volume of the stereo or even turn it off, which was
a bit embarrassing as I’d just arrived home after a late-night dash from the
airport. I had no choice but to lock and leave the Clio on the driveway,
returning a few minutes later to have another (successful) attempt at silencing
the choons.
Although
upright and a little high, the driving position is within our expectations for
a new supermini
That sound synthesiser might have easily
been dismissed as a stupid gimmick, but it soon became clear what prompted
Renault to do it: the aurally anodyne 1.6-litre turbo engine. It did the
numbers – 197bhp and a beefy 177lb of torque – but gone was the steely edge and
appetite for revs that made the old 2-litre naturally aspirated car’s
performance harder to extract, but so much more exciting as a result. Actually,
the flat engine note was less of an issue than the linear delivery. It felt so
well within itself, so safe and with such polite levels of boost that there was
minimal enjoyment to be had from working the motor to its modest rev limit.
Bluntly, it just needed more balls.
The
sense of roominess inside is even more apparent in the back
At the risk of sounding like a broken
record, the Clio’s biggest failing was its double-clutch paddleshift gearbox. I
can see how it was sold in the product marketing meeting–who wouldn’t be
seduced by the notion of a sparky hot hatch that shifts gears like a Ferrari
458? – but the reality was a slow-witted and perennially infuriating transmission
that fell short in pretty much every scenario. And I cannot begin to describe
my hostility towards the person who decided it needed an upshift buzzer…
Did anything of the once-great RS Clio
survive the revolution? Well, the chassis did provide some salvation, with a
sharpness and keen rate of response that encouraged you to push beyond the
limitations of the lacklustre drivetrain and throw the car through some
corners. The ride was firm, but not as physical as the last-gen Clio 200 Cup,
and there was a ton of grip to lean on, so you could carry great speed on
tricky roads.
Bright
white LED daytime running lights give the Clio a distinctive appearance in your
mirrors
It never felt quite so expressive or lively
as its predecessor, but it was more mature for everyday driving, and close
enough on entertaining roads to feel all was not lost. It was always a shame
not to see Brembo calipers through the wheel spokes, but the brakes were strong
with plenty of bite and a progressive response for accurate, dependable fast
road use. They didn’t respond well to a trackday at Spa, though, returning with
a nasty judd-d-d-der.
Typically, the service indicator blinked on
just before the Clio was due to go back to Renault. A 15,000- mile service
would have come free via Renault’s four-year servicing package, but new front
discs and pads would likely have been needed. We also fitted fresh rubber all
round ($960). Talking of running costs, the 1.6 turbo might have promised
much-improved fuel economy, but as ever the fantasyland EU consumption figures
make promises no car can deliver in the real world. We never saw much more than
30mpg, even when driving like a saint, and when you dipped further into the
performance the fuel economy dipped into the low to mid-20s. It was better
overall than the old NA 2.0, but not by much.
It
isn't particularly capacious, but the 300-litre boot is slightly bigger than
most of its direct rivals'
Perhaps the most telling indictment of the
RS Clio was its absence from our Greatest Hot Hatches story. That its immediate
predecessor shone like a beacon in that test (not to mention the 182 Trophy and
Mégane 230 R26) makes the situation all the more disappointing. We remain
convinced there’s a good, even a potentially great car held hostage within the
200 Turbo, but our continued faith in Renaultsport as a hot hatch force to be
reckoned with hangs on its ability to find and release it.
