Meet your heroes: the Renault Clio V6 was a proper pocket rocket

It was inevitable, really. My love affair with the Renault Clio dates back to 2011, when I bought a 2005 1.2 16V ‘Extreme’ as a fresh-faced 17-year-old after passing my driving test. Three years later, I’d somehow managed to scrape enough money together as a uni student to upgrade to a 2005 RenaultSport Clio 182 ‘Full Fat’, a real pinch myself moment.

I cherished it for the next eight years, but sadly life eventually got in the way. In 2022 I decided, rather than it sitting unused, it was time to let it go to pastures new. I’m yet to replace it but I’ve often asked myself since then, what next? Well, logic would suggest...

Because it was with this car that my Clio obsession began. Its story started in the late 1990s with the Clio V6 Trophy, a one-make race series designed to promote the new Clio range. Then, at the 1998 Paris Motor Show, Renault revealed a road-going concept based on this very racecar, and the reaction was immense. So immense, in fact, that Renault turned to Tom Walkinshaw Racing to see if the thing could be built for real. And the Phase 1 was born.

Photography: Luc Lacey

It measured some 171mm wider and 38mm longer than the regular Clio, while it also had a 110mm wider track up front and 138mm at the rear, plus bespoke suspension and an entirely new rear structure. Inside the rear seats and boot were gone (sorry kids), replaced by a 3.0-litre V6 sending all 227bhp to the rear wheels. Some 1,631 were built between 2001 and 2002 but it quickly gained a reputation as being something of a scally on the road. Rumour has it, just under three quarters were spun backwards into hedges.

So Renault went back to the drawing board for the Phase 2, and while much of the development was again handled by TWR, the cars were fettled by RenaultSport too. While its refreshed look was in line with the facelifted Clio, the engine now produced an increased 252bhp, its chassis had been reworked and it got a 33mm longer wheelbase, 23mm wider front track, upgraded suspension and a stiffer subframe, all with the intention of making it even more outrageous to the naked eye but, more pertinently, a little more civilised to drive.

All of which weighs heavily on my mind given the particularly grim weather we’ve been treated to today. Here now, best get on with it. From the driver’s seat the cabin is near identical to any Clio of its generation, complete with large steering wheel and absurdly high seating position, but turn the key and you’re quickly reminded that all is not as it seems.

I came away simply relieved I’d managed to keep it facing the right way

As I pull away, it initially takes some getting used to. The steering’s heavy, the turning circle woeful, and I find myself constantly checking the mirrors on account of the swollen arches. But I’m surprised by how friendly it is. It’s wonderfully analogue, the ride comfortable, the power delivery impressively smooth, the sound somewhat subdued. Don’t let that fool you. As my confidence grows the revs build and the V6 soundtrack makes itself known.

Sure, it never fills me with confidence around fast corners despite the squat stance, struggling to shrug off its extra weight compared to my old 182 and not helped by the wet roads the day I had it. But this is a car best driven at eight-tenths, and I came away simply relieved I’d managed to keep it facing the right way.

“Fair play – from a 1.2 up to a V6, you’ve come a long way. Lucky git,” my brother replied when I sent him a selection of the pictures you see on this page today. It might have taken me 13 years to get behind the wheel of one of these, but it was more than worth the wait.