In most hot hatchbacks these days the extra power afforded by the big engine is wasted lugging around all the luxury and computer equipment that the Milton Keynes flip-chart salarymen think we all want.
Not on the Clio it isn’t. Instead of overly complicated climate control you get simple air-conditioning, and that, on the luxury front, really is the end of the story. Unless you count the weirdest cruise control I’ve ever found.
Like any other cruise system, you can choose a speed and the car will stick to that unless you turn it off, brake or accelerate. But unlike any other system I’ve encountered, there’s another facility that lets you choose the top speed of the car. Select 70 and it becomes impossible to go faster. The engine just won’t let you.
I had enormous fun with this, driving from one side of Birmingham to the other with it set on 30. You’d be staggered how much of a nuisance you can be if you are physically prevented from breaking the speed limit. I was given the finger maybe half a dozen times. Even more than usual, the Brummies were delighted when I got on the M42 and went back to Britain.
Here, I turned off the Clio’s only techno feature and just used it as a car. And it was great. The 182bhp 2 litre engine pulls with planetary torque from low revs and sings power ballads at the top end, but the car’s real party piece is its handling. It seems to go round any corner at whatever speed takes your fancy.
There is traction control but it’s the laziest, most ineffectual system in the world, not bothering to get off its fat arse once in a whole week of road rocketry. I got the impression after a while it was just a button on the dash, connected to nothing at all. And that’s a good thing. It meant I was in charge.
And boy, was I having a laugh. I loved the big, comfortable and hugely supportive seats, I loved the speed, but my most abiding memory is the way this little race-bred car arcs round corners like a mono waterskier on a millpond. I also loved the way that, when all is said and done, the Trophy is just a Clio, same easy-to-mend parts, same practicality and the same value. It’s only £15,500, for heaven’s sake.
There are only two things wrong. First, it has a very hard ride, and second, the Clio Trophy was a last hoorah before the new Clio came along. You are therefore hard pressed to find one. But if you can, go ahead and buy it. It’s a very human car in a very complicated world.
Not too bad a review really is it?
