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Once derided as a modded boy-racer must-have, the 5 GT Turbo is now a sought-after classic French hot hatch. Alex Robbins finds out why
It’s a pint-sized version of the classic 1980s turbos we’re all harking back to
Hands up who remembers Ali G? Chances are you do, and if so, you’ll probably also remember the bright yellow Renault 5 GT Turbo he drove. It was adorned with spoilers and wheels that looked so disproportionately large that they lent the whole car the appearance of a Dayglo rollerskate.
Ali G’s choice of car tells you all you need to know about the 5 GT Turbo’s reputation in the 1990s. This was the boy-racer car to end all boy-racer cars; the one even Ford Fiesta RS Turbo and Vauxhall Corsa GSI drivers looked down upon.
But the times they are a-changin’. The example driven here couldn’t be more different to Ali G’s example. Indeed, you’ll be hard-pushed to find a ‘maxxed’ 5 GT Turbo anywhere these days, so gauche has the oncevirulent modifying craze of the late 1990s become.
So it’s surely time now to appreciate the 5 GT Turbo for its sweet chassis and whizz-pop turbo motor, rather than deride it for an image that, let’s face it, was hardly the car’s fault in the first place.
Today, the 5 GT Turbo looks absolutely cracking. That pyramidshaped cabin, the neat, cornermounted indicators and the taillights striping up the rear quarters feel so right that they manage to make even the pert Peugeot 205 look a little contrived. Inside, the design, again, is fascinating: jutting, sweeping, angular and curvy all at the same time. No car interior looks like that of a 1980s Renault.
Before I drive the 5 GT Turbo, I expect it to feel rowdy, shouty and aggressive, as befits its image as the modders’ favourite. Yet it actually feels soft and slightly squidgy on first acquaintance. There’s a long-throw, notchy gearshift with one of the least comfortable knobs I’ve held, and the seats, which look vast in the 5’s tiny cockpit, are of the sink-into variety.
Not an auspicious start, then, but on the move, things start to improve. First, that suspension: its softness makes the 5 GT Turbo pretty comfy. You’d struggle to call the engine quiet, but neither does it drone, so cruising is surprisingly enjoyable. Acceleration is just as you’d expect: very little low down, anticipation while you wait for the turbo to spool up, and then, all of a sudden, a burst of grunt that induces a grin rather than white knuckles.
On squiggly bits of road, the grin remains. There’s a surprising amount of traction from the front end. Torque steer tips the wheel in your hands slightly, but the 5 GT Turbo doesn’t writhe or squirm. That squidge in the suspension means it f lows admirably from corner to corner. And while the ruts and potholes of a British B-road do rattle the cabin, they don’t throw the car off line.
It doesn’t quite have the delicacy or subtlety of a 205 GTI, mind you. There’s comparatively little throttle adjustment mid-bend. What’s more, the brakes, which feel mushy and fade as soon as you look at them, don’t instil confidence. But on the flip side, the GT Turbo feels punchier than its biggest rival, its muscle coming all at once, causing the car to shove and bite its way around like a little terrier.
Perhaps here, then, is a trace of that more uncouth character I was expecting after all. It’s a pint-sized version of the classic 1980s turbos we’re all harking back to nowadays. As the 5 GT Turbo’s most famous owner once said: restecp.