CLIO TROPHY
The clio TROPH Y’s inter ior is, let’s be frank, a bit rubbish. The steering wheel is covered in a material that looks like a close approximation of leather, yet manages to be shiny and sticky at the same time. The plastic of the facia looks and feels so brittle that you fear one slip when changing gear and you’d punch a hole right through it. And yet, far from being a major problem, the shoddy interior is part of what makes the Trophy so fantastic.
The Trophy is all about necessity. It’s about what is needed to make a fast, fun, hot hatch. So there are no carbonfibre body panels or Perspex windows because the back-to-basics interior and the lack of luxuries save enough weight. And there’s no more power than a standard Renault Sport Clio 182 because the 180bhp from the naturally aspirated 2-litre 16-valve four is perfectly sufficient.
What you do get is Recaro front seats that sit 10mm lower than the standard 182 items, the spoiler from a Clio V6, red paint, lightweight Speedline wheels and, most importantly, remote-reservoir dampers.
It seems insane to suggest that dampers that cost ten times the price of the ones on an already fine-handling car such as the Clio 182 Cup might be a necessity but, 200 yards up the road and a couple of corners later, you’ll be convinced you couldn’t live without them.
These very special dampers are made by Sachs Race Engineering. The bump and rebound characteristics are different from those on the 182 and they also include hydraulic bump-stops so that the ride height can be lowered without the worry of the suspension abruptly bottoming-out. The damper rods are significantly thicker, too, which means they can continue to work just as effectively even under high lateral loads. An external reservoir is needed so that the oil displaced by the wider rod has somewhere to go.
The experience is just as impressive as the theory. The first few corners are a revelation; the way the Trophy’s front axle responds so immediately is nothing short of startling. Yet you’re acutely aware there’s more to come. The steering and chassis transmit such detail about how hard the tyres are working that you know you’re going to have to try much harder than those exploratory first corners before you really begin to feel everything the Trophy has to offer.
Even when it has goaded you to the speeds at which it likes to operate, there’s still ample grip. It isn’t only about pace, though. The Trophy responds dutifully to every input, and each of its controls allows you to manipulate its balance. The front axle is so keyed-in to the surface that you can begin to use the rear to fine-tune your line as it relinquishes its grip first. There aren’t big, old-school hot hatch lift-off oversteer moments; it’s far more nuanced as you dictate the perfect angle of attack with the steering, brakes and throttle (or lack of) all at once.
The Trophy’s humble hatchback roots do reveal themselves as the shell loses the fight with the stiff suspension and it shimmies and quivers over bumps. However, that firm setup means there’s absolutely no slack and the Trophy responds immediately to every twitch of your right foot and flick of your wrists. It’s so alert that the quoted weight of 1090kg actually feels too high.
The V6 Clio might look wilder and the R26.R and Trophy-r Méganes might be more focused, but the little Trophy represents Renault Sport’s philosophy in the purest, most basic way. It’s unashamedly still a small French hatchback, but one that has benefited at the hands of gifted engineers who know what’s most valuable in a performance car. Engineers who favour quality dampers over premium interior plastics.