Widebody Rarity: 2001 Renault Clio V6 Sport

One of the more entertaining aspects of our hobby is when a car comes along that represents a point when manufacturers were far less cautious. These days, most cars are safely sanitized for consumer use, even the most hairy sports cars, which have personalities that suggest no one wanted to risk a lawsuit in building something too dangerous. This is inherently a good thing, of course, but it does make you yearn for the zany exercises like this 2001 Renault Clio V6 Sport, which is listed here on Hemmings for $92,000. This is a car that doesn’t make much sense, likely didn’t make much money, and is all-smiles when you’re driving it. Thanks to Barn Finds reader Curvette for the find.

Anytime a manufacturer says they’re building a “race car for the streets,” a wave of eye-rolls follows. After all, if you’re building it for mass consumption, it can’t be all that ridiculous since better than half the population won’t like it. True race cars are cramped, have uncomfortable suspension, and engines that don’t idle particularly well. They have to be driven as intended to get the best out of them, so if you’re sitting in a late-model 911 that soaks up road abrasions, has functional air conditioning, and doesn’t sound like it’s about to swallow a valve while sitting at the stop light, is it really that raw? I digress, but cars like this Renault are in a truly different class because they were left so unrefined. Its flaws are the reason you want one.

The other desirable trait about cars like this Clio is the story behind them. Limited production vehicles like these usually have some zany skunkworks crew working in the background to get the finished product just suitable enough to pass the sniff test with the bean counters (and even then, I’m pretty sure they present cars like this in such a way to fool the suits.) The first version of the Clio V6 Sport was built by none other than Tom Walkinshaw Racing (TWR) in Sweden, and they promptly deleted the rear seat and stuffed in a 3.0L V6 from the larger Renault Laguna. Significantly widened bodywork was incorporated along with cooling ducts and fatter wheels and tires. A 6-speed manual was the only available transmission.

227 horsepower rode high up in the back of the tiny car, and because of the higher center of gravity of the motor, handling was best described as twitchy. Many reviewers found the car hard to drive well at the limit, and sadly, the additional weight of the new performance model caused performance to suffer. 0-60 happens in a tick over 6 seconds, so it’s not particularly fast by today’s ridiculous standards. But few modern performance cars have the story that this one does, and it exudes the wonderful excesses of the outgoing eras of motorsports and small crews of enthusiasts building the cars the people wanted – all for what was a very reasonable price at the time. When you buy a car like this, you’re not buying it because it’s the fastest – you’re buying a time machine to an era we’re never going back to.