Thanks Renault for igniting a passion

If this was Top Gear, I have no doubt that Jeremy Clarkson would be guffawing at my car history.

First there was an Opel Kadett, a simple sewing machine – no frills, no fuss – got me from A to B. Then a step up, with a gorgeously deep red Opel Astra.  

It had a huge boot that could hardly fit a fishing stool. The sound was great, but the rest of the car – all bark, no bite. It promised a lot dressed to the nines with a wing, skirts, trims, stunning mags and lowered suspension, but was powered by a weedy 1600 cc engine … Minis laughed at me. I also managed to turn the snow plough into a rake after some minor curb-hopping. We’re still amazed it sold after restoring the suspension and keeping the low profile tyres. Not a pretty sight.

After moving to the Netherlands, our vehicle was of the two-legged kind, and then two-wheels. It terrified the gajeebers out of me on icy roads and muddy forest tracks. Buying groceries by bicycle is difficult enough without it being a slip course!

Then there was a love-hate relationship with an old Fiat Panda that optimistically sported a speeding tortoise on the tail gate. Compared to the bike, it was zippy. And the hammock in the back revealed a ravenous  boot when folded away. I saw my first ice-stars … on the inside of the windscreen. The car was temperamental in starting, lacked heating of any kind, and worse, there was NO sound(!) and then … wilfully I’m sure, ”Snelly” [snel = fast] locked me in! At a mere -8 deg C the door locks froze solid! A gazillion light years later, I was Papillon escaping Devil’s Island.

On the 1st of January 2003, Snelly died on the freeway; while we were moving from Emmen to Zwolle. The -12 chill factor proving too much. I pulled over and tried to calm our two Persians and five pot plants. More challenging was resuscitating the blood in my fingers through thick winter gloves. The double-beanie seemingly useless. Man, it was cold!! Marcel pulled up in the business van, music blaring and a heat haze eminating from the cockpit. I wasn’t sure whether to spit or be immensely grateful. The ANWB (roadside help) said there was no hope, so we repacked all into the van and, with mixed emotions, left Snelly to die; eventually trading scrap for towage fees. 

Again we reverted to bicycles. Our needs were limited ‘cos it was work, work, work. No fun, no weekends away and certainly no travelling through Europe. A couple of years later we started making headway, and could look at another car. Great stuff! Marcel gets a kick out of surfing to find “the perfect” whatever and made a short list, so we visited a couple of dealers. Sneakily in the corner of my eye, a Golf Cabriolet was shouting, “Pick me, pick me!” Unlike Marcel’s family, I’m not a Golf fan. The only exception … a Cabrio. The sun was shining, we were in a great mood, our travels lay ahead … we purchased a green baby with “Pink Floyd trim”.

The car was exactly what I hoped it would be – fun and care-free with the top down. I’d inevitably forget the suncreen or hat! Not something you think about really. I enjoyed the wobbly relaxed drive, but it disgruntled my man. He thought it should feel more solid, and wanted more neighing under the bonnet. My gripe with the car was its impracticality. The internal storage was so badly designed that you couldn’t leave the “necessary stuff” lying around, especially with an open roof. Papers in particular were fond of escaping.

Then our business goals changed as we set out to sell and deliver laminate floors and underlays. We traded the cabrio for a Renault Kangoo. Purely functional. But with a pretty, industrial face. The Kangoo was easy to drive and I loved the new car smell. The heating worked, it started every time, and although a stiff suspension, it got me safely from supplier to client. We even ventured out on the odd weekend away - Germany, Belgium, … it was safe and reliable with lots of space for luggage, even a cat or two. They were less enthralled at the idea. Getting the car washed, however, clattered like monsoons on tin shacks.

Then we visited South Africa and hired a Nissan X-Trail ‘cos we were heading into the summer bush and needed something tall. The comfort, the padded silence, the good sound. Hmmm. Getting back into the unclad steel panels at Schiphol (Amsterdam airport) came a shock.

Marcel started browsing the net. We had a basic list:

• 1800 cc or higher (power for overtaking)
• economical in diesel use
• able to take passengers
• enough space for deliveries
• good sound
• heads was an estate, tails an MPV

Marcel found a couple of Audi A3′s, Volvo V40 or V50′s that could be an option. We also considered Saabs and Renaults. Not wanting to fork out too much after the trade-in, we narrowed our options further. 8 weeks later, Marcel found a corker. “It’s got a panorama roof …” he said. “We’ll take it!” I replied.

It was love at first ride. It just clicked. We understood each other. For a moment, I even drove better than Marcel!

50,000 km’s later, my dread of driving has been replaced by sheer joy.

The gears are smooth and the ride comfortable, especially when loaded. We’ve seen most of Holland, and a fair bit of England, France, Italy, Switzerland, Germany and Belgium. I overtake, reverse and park (even parallel) in confidence and enjoy throwing the car around s-corners. I even catch myself making vrrrm noises.

But what inspired me to write this article, was a gorgeous Spring day. The roof was open, sun flushing my cheeks. I was driving back along the dyke with a lake to my left and nature reserve to my right. Veronica was playing the Top 40 from 1983. Talking Heads. Slippery People. AWESOME!! Dwang. Dwang … two handed air guitaring on the straights, ”Turn like a wheel inside a wheel” .. hah! My ecstasy boiling through the roof.

Perhaps our expectations were low and other cars are far superior … but we’re bowled away by our Megane 1.9 dCi. We keep discovering new things. The rear view mirrors that tuck in to get washed. The windscreen wipers that react to the rain in the same way I do (erratically). The key that doesn’t need to be in the ignition. Nooks and crannies to hold all. The practicality and yet … the fun!

This is going to be super-difficult to replace one day. I hope we still have many, many kilometres together.

Mr Clarkson, is this not the quintessence of driving?