History originally published in Sport Compact Car November 1998; republished by the author
Shakespeare said, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Sure, Bill, but would it sell? When Renault began importing its new econobox in 1976, they use their current practice of numerical model designation and called it the “5.” A bare-bones version was called the TL and a more fully equipped model, the GTL. But despite being reasonably powered – at least for the time – and functional as a Swiss Army knife (plus imbued with Gallic charm and a cushy ride that shamed cars much larger and more expensive) the Renault 5 was a slug on the market.
How frustrating it must then to see the car sit on the lot. The Renault 5 got a
40 mpg on the highway and an easy 35 mpg around town, yet was agile and fast enough to dominate the SCCA’s Showroom Stock C, taking 12 of 16 races in a field that included, among others, the VW rabbit. Though a two-door, the 5 had comfy seating for four and the interior didn’t give the impression that its makers had skimped on quality of materials. An optional fold-back fabric sunroof open to nearly the whole roof of the car, useful when A/C wasn’t an option.
The 5’s ride came from fully independent suspension, A-arms up front and trailing arms with transverse torsion bars at the rear, and a surprisingly long wheelbase in a car, that at 141.5 inches, was more than a foot shorter than a Rabbit. That’s wheelbases, actually, at 95.8 inches on the left and 94.5 inches on the right, necessary to make the rear suspension fit, according to Renault. Michelin ZX tires were 1405R-13s on styled steel three-lug wheels. Renault had perfected the rear hatch and fold down rear seat for a maximum of almost 18 cu. ft. of cargo area.
The spare lived under the hood, a common European economy car practice, almost hiding the pushrod 1298 cc engine mounted longitudinally behind the transaxle. Equipped with a2-barrel Weber carburetor, the 5 revved merrily toward the 58 bhp power peak at 6000 rpm. There was no tachometer, but the large speedometer was marked with shift points. And for the for the U.S. market, there was no automatic transmission and the manual had no overdrive fifth. But then most didn’t at that time. That a 0-to-60 mph time of 16.7 seconds and quarter-mile E.T.of 20 seconds flat was considered peppy was another sign of the times, as well as the top speed of 91 mph.
The soft suspension meant that when pushed in a corner, the 5 would lean dramatically. When the SCCA established a spec class for the cars, a pack going through a turn look more like a sailing regatta than an automobile race. Thanks to generous wheel travel, tires generally stayed on the pavement – unless, of course, one Renault leaned on another, in which case all four wheels generally became, shall we say, relieved of their duties.
But for the most part, the Renault 5 was a comfortable yet penurious automobile, seemingly ideal for the fuel crisis of the Seventiess. Renault even advertised it using an animated frog with an accent like Maurice Chevalier singing Thank Heaven for Little Cars. Why then wouldn’t the Renault 5 sell?
Out of desperation a dealer bought into a promotion developed by an ad agency. Each 5 was decorated with tape stripes and large tape letters that spelled “Le Car” were applied to the doors. Radio and TV ads with a French motif invited customers to “come and drive the car.” It was a hit, so much so that the national organization adopted the promotion, and ads “Introducing Le Car” appeared in March 1977 magazines. The Renault association was minimized, the French connection emphasized: human models in ads wore berets. It was “Le Car by Renault,” with Les Features, Le Performance, L’Economy, and Le Fantastic Ride. French teachers blanched, but sales doubled. (In bilingual Canada, they called it Le Cinque – “the five”).
Still, the quirky look car was never able to match the appeal of the more conventional Rabbit, Pinto or Chevette, nor that of the perfectly ordinary Renault Alliance appearing in the 1983 model year. After selling side-by-side with the newcomer for a year, the Renault 5 Le Car quietly took car quietly bid adieu to the U.S. market. It was la finis for Renault’s plucky little fleur. And Bill, stick with the poems and plays. Apparently it does matter what you name a car. At least they didn’t name it the “Frog,” which Renault U.S.A. reportedly had considered.
Addendum: Using voice-to-text to transcribe this article for web publication, “The spare lived under the hood” came out as “despair lived under the hood.” Well, if you say so…
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