The handsome chassis could easily compete with some of today’s bulkier SUVs when it comes to load carrying. And yet despite the car’s obvious benefits and eccentric charm it became the butt of many a joke, two of which have stayed with me Q: How do you upgrade a Renault 4? A. Put in an engine. Or, Q: Why do Renault 4s have heated rear windows? A: To keep your hands warm while pushing them.
As with so many classic Renault 4 owners my love affair was to be short lived. After failing yet another MOT (other than the famously indestructible engine, virtually everything else had fallen to bits) I decided to sell her on to a charming enthusiast for a paltry £50.
A year later, the new owner got back in touch to ask if I’d like to go for a spin in what was now a beautifully restored masterpiece complete with actual leather seats, rear spoilers, a fuel-injected engine, an electric sunroof, pink psychedelic paintwork and a top-of-the-range sound system with pumping speakers. And yet, for all the fancy modifications, the owner had worked hard to preserve the car’s essential character.
I often wonder whether she’s still out there turning heads or perhaps she was sold on to a French farmer who now uses her to transport hay bails and pregnant chickens.
Around eight million Renault 4s were sold between 1961 and 1992 and it became available in over 100 countries so the old girl will certainly be a hard act to follow.
As an enthusiast, I was interested to discover how much of the 4’s unique character has been preserved in the all-new electric version.
With its front-wheel drive 150 hp engine and 250-mile range from a 52kWh (usable capacity) battery, it’s all a long way from the original’s smelly but fuel-efficient petrol variety. The official 0-62mph time of 8.2 seconds means it’s certainly a lot nippier but the original was never designed for boy racers.
The new exterior shows only a passing resemblance to the original and as with so many re-imagined classics, such as the Mini and Ford Capri, the overall look is much bulkier and more robust.
In fact the new 4 looks much like any other small SUV although Renault has wisely preserved the famous angular nose and round headlights, and I like the smart new illuminated Renault logo positioned on the fake front grill.
As for the new dashboard the standard-issue seven-inch screen is much like every other seven-inch screen. Personally I prefer actual dials, clickable knobs and big bright buttons you can press. And give me a handsome Roman numerable clock face over a digital instrument panel any day.
This summer has seen the relaunch of a much-loved, much-missed and much-maligned motoring classic. Built between 1961 and 1994, the quirky Renault 4 became a familiar sight on British roads and on farms across France.
Due to the vehicle’s propensity to rust, UK sightings have become increasingly rare although French farmers still use them for transporting errant sheep. Now 30 years after the last of the classic Renault 4s rolled off the production line, fans have been celebrating the launch of a brand new fully electric model.
But does this sleek, high-tech rebrand live up to its predecessor’s charm?
Marketed as a superior version of the much clunkier Citroen 2CV and originally classified as a light goods vehicle due to its van-like appearance and capacious interior, I bought my first Renault 4, a white 1975 vintage, in the early 1990s.
The dodgy second-hand car dealer must have been rubbing his hands with glee when I handed over £350 for the jalopy that didn’t even have an MOT. Despite mismatched replacement yellow doors, a less than spotless history and a floor so rusty you could see the road rushing beneath your feet, I had fallen in love.
It’s easy to forget that in the 70s and 80s cars weren’t built to last; anything older than about eight years would often be on its last legs with rust being the chief culprit.
These days new vehicles are plied with primer and sealer before any paint is applied, thereby reducing contact between the metal body and corrosive oxygen in the air.
The chassis of my beloved 1975 model had certainly seen better days but the interior was surprisingly comfortable with its wide, squishy leatherette seats and acres of headroom.
Okay, the heating system had long since given up the ghost meaning I had to pile on the layers in winter and there wasn’t even an AM radio let alone a tape deck to keep me company. The dashboard may have been basic even by the standards of the day with only a couple of clunky switches, a deafening indicator and a weirdly shaped, impossible-to-read speedometer and yet, for its many oddities, the car was a delight to drive.
Like many devotees I particularly enjoyed the positioning of the dashboard gear-stick which seemed so much more intuitive than the standard floor version.
The wonderfully responsive 845cc engine and punchy suspension kept everything bouncing along nicely and, with the backseats down, I even managed to transport a hefty wardrobe to my new flat.
But the most unforgivable omission has to be the removal of the old dashboard gear stick, which became such a defining feature of the 4.
Instead, Renault has gone for the boring old column-mounted gear selector, which according to Carwow “gives a more modern interior layout”.
But what’s the point of re-launching a classic if you leave out all those iconic designs that made the car such a classic in the first place.
I look forward to the day when a car manufacturer has the courage to re-launch without having to blandify the design in order to appease modern tastes.
Those who yearn to see the classic 4 back in action should seek out the acclaimed new documentary The Last Journey, a charming story of a last-ditch road trip from central Sweden to southern France made by the TV host Filip Hammar and his ailing 80-year-old dad, Lars. The pair revisit a series of fondly remembered holiday destinations from Filip’s childhood in a desperate attempt to help Lars, a former French teacher and Francophile, out of his physical and cognitive decline.
It’s become the highest-grossing Swedish documentary in history, helped in no small part by their chosen mode of transport, a bright orange vintage Renault 4.
No wonder Colombians nicknamed the 4 “Amigo fiel” (Faithful friend).
