Is a goofy yellow Renault the Right Drive for you?
An Alfa Romeo 4C is all fine and grand, you might say, but it's not to your style -- less Balotelli, more Benzema. Depending on your national allegiances, the very rare, very goofy Renault Sport Spider F1 might be your mid-engined Euro weirdness runabout of impractical, irrational, but oh-so-fun choice.
O Canada, you land of weirdo imports! Sometime in the mid 1990s, every one of Renault's 127,000-strong workforce collectively lost their minds. First, they jammed an 800-hp V10 in an Espace because that's what you do to hot-rod minivans. Then they gave us the twee, teal Twingo, which perpetually looks like a grinning cartoon character and made the Saxo look normal. Ew. Then, they built this.
Right Drive
And then, all the bodywork exploded.
Imagine if one of France's Big Three -- or, more likely, France's AMC -- built a kit car that resembled the unholy union between a koala, a bar of soap, and a roller-coaster safety hoop. Then, imagine if it threw in the 2.0-liter, 16-valve, 150-hp four-banger from a family hatchback, somewhere underneath said safety hoop. Then, imagine if it built nearly 2,000 examples -- out of aluminum! -- from the same factory that birthed the Alpine A310. Clearly, the Dieppe factory is no stranger to rear-engined weirdness. Naturally, nearly every example ended up being daisy-chain yellow. (Nearly, as demonstrated by some guy named Jerry [sic].) Imagine: a parallel universe where the Sport Spider is the best-selling roadster in history, a parallel universe where I am the Co-Prince of Andorra.
That's the Renault Sport Spider for you, which weighed only 2,050 pounds and sported an engine from a Megane Coupe, as well as an interior that -- as far as we can tell -- has only three buttons in it. That's probably why it weighed 2,050 pounds. If Renault could have removed the 50-pound emergency-flasher button, it would've been an even ton. Everything you need, of course, and nothing you don't, and as far as Renault said, you don't even need a roof, or a speedometer. Try explaining that to the cops next time they pull you over. They love a good sense of humor!
This example clocks in at only 19,000 kilometers, which is a little over 11,000 miles. A pittance, really. Such pristine rarity will cost you $54,999, and given the recent value of the fabled loonie, the price you see is basically the price you get. Coincidentally, that's within shouting distance of an Alfa Romeo 4C, and also a number of Lotus Elises and about six dozen Mercury Capris. All three cars are built and appointed like friggin' Buicks compared to this thing, of course. It's in the Toronto suburb of Vaughan, Ontario, a town where we hear Mark Vaughn is banned. Something involving a $10,000 speeding ticket and some bruised geraniums, he says. "I drove one in LA back about 17 or 20 years ago. Great sports car. No windshield. I wore ski goggles. Must've looked mighty fine."
Right Drive
Everything you need, nothing you don't. And they mean that with a vengeance.
Renault built only 1,800 Sport Spiders—enough, apparently, to support a one-make championship to feed into the British Touring Car Championship. Fun fact: Fifth Gear presenterJason Plato won 11 of the 14 races of the Spider Cup in 1996. So, there's that.
The weirdness didn't end for Renault, following the turn of the millennium: Renault shed its Nineties-ness, with the Spider's rounded edges and wide-eyed stare, for the regal Vel Satis, which resembled the machine In-N-Out Burger uses to make its french fries. (A note, here: "Vel Satis" would make a great name for an 80s-revival electronic-lounge act.) Then, it tossed a V6 in the back of its smallest hatchback. Then, it gave the world its supreme touch of weirdness: the two-door Grand Touring minivan known as the Avantime.
All we're saying is, Renault designer Patrick Le Quément should be nominated for sainthood or tossed in Devil's Island.
Right Drive
Is it more charming than an Alfa Romeo 4C? Only time will tell.
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