FRIDGE SHIFTED IN WHITE GOODS
When I last reported upon the Renault, I related how I was poised to do some touching-in, and to re-fit all of the door rubbers, after some welding of stress cracks on the tailgate and some of the doors. This was an operation that turned into something of a saga.
Painting the repaired sections of panelwork was a straightforward enough aerosol job. When I was done, I decided to smarten-up the tailgate by de-rusting and repainting its flanges and making two trim panels out of some hardboard and carpet I had kicking about: the lastof-the-line Savane version of the R4 really is unspeakably bare, with the very minimum of trim.
Pleased with the result, I then fitted a spanking new tailgate rubber, a messy Evo-stik job that removed much of the paint that I’d put on the flanges. After all that, the tailgate refused to latch, standing well proud of the catch.
Endless jiggering around, plus a rebuilding and repositioning of the badly worn catch, still hasn’t solved things, so a replacement catch and a re-hanging of the tailgate beckon. Moving to the doors, I had a similar problem after fitting a fresh rubber to the driver’s door, which now barely shuts and has a gap you can almost walk through.
As well as sorting this, I also need to revisit an oil leak that won’t go away. I thought it was caused by overtightening the sump plug and crushing the brass washer too much, so I fitted a new washer and tightened the plug just-so. It still leaks. And that’s about it in terms of problems. Well, almost…
One day I discovered that I had no indicators. A mate who’s a wily former garage owner immediately put his finger on the cause: on Renault 4s the fuses settle in their holder, or corrode a little, or maybe both, and then contact is broken. All it takes is to rotate the offending fuse in its holder a few times, or give it a clean with emery cloth, and everything will start working again.
The electrics decided to play up again when the French equivalent of the MOT came up, but fiddling with the terminals on the horn and on one of the sidelights restored these to health. The Renault duly passed, with a few advisories such as headlamp misalignment and some minor play in the front suspension. Irregular tyre wear suggests that the car needs its tracking looked at, something that I’ll deal with when I replace the tyres, which are now nearing the end of their life.
I’m also planning to make the car rather more comfortable. I’ve rescued a pair of Peugeot 306 seats, and a quick run over ‘Sharon’ (the R4) with a tape measure suggests that they’ll fit, in place of the skimpy non-reclining standard items. We shall see. And while I’m about it, I might screw a couple of pockets on the doors, having had a set off a 4 GTL on the shelves for a while.
Meanwhile, the Renault has been happily going about its business, being the ideal vehicle for everyday life in rural south-western France. Two modest little recent escapades prove the point.
The first was when I needed to transport a fridge. It obviously wasn’t going to fit in the MG or my Mini, and it looked too long for Sharon. But 10 minutes of spannering had the four securing bolts removed and the rear seat lifted out. Bingo! There was just enough length to slide in the fridge, a bungee strap to hold the tailgate down, and off I went.
Next was a mission deep into the woods to retrieve some spares from a dumped car. The track was muddy and cratered, but we picked our way forwards gingerly, thankful for the Renault’s ample ground clearance. All the same we caught the underside once, but a quick inspection revealed no damage: sensibly, the R4 is fitted with a skid plate under the transmission.
What was I saying about the car being ideal for country life?