Appropriately, for a one-of-250 prima
donna, the Trophy-R must be collected
en route to Blyton Park for the first day
of testing. Cue 90 minutes of motorway
work in the lily-white Mercedes. The
same things always stand out to me in
an A45. It’s mind-bendingly stiff for a
hatchback. The power extracted from
the 1991cc engine is astonishing and
it seals shut like a sarcophagus. With a
snapper and luggage added, the car must
be nearing 1800kg. But at low revs this
weight is overwhelmed by the 450Nm
beyond 3000rpm.
The A45’s lack of adaptive dampers
means it never settles down as effectively
as a Volkswagen Golf R and, on jittery
sections of freeway, ride quality is
questionable. But the seats, steering
wheel and dashboard are excellent and,
back on asphalt, it steamrolls north
with all the quietness and certitude of a
barnacle suckered to a torpedo.
Following the A45’s deadened hush,
the hollow racket of the Renault’s four-
pot, even at idle, seems remarkable.
As does the unadorned plastic fascia
that it bounces off, pockmarked
everywhere with blanked-out buttons
and kit deletions. Lost for anything
else to do, the infotainment screen now
forlornly displays only time and date,
though it’s difficult not to savour the
Renault’s lack of compromise. It lives
up to the promise, moving about with an
enlivening and hard-bodied fizz. Ride
comfort is impressive, the expensive
Öhlins reproducing the A45’s spirit-level
flatness, but without the traumatic freefall
into potholes. This is assisted at speed
by Dieppe’s (Renault's construction plant
in northern France) fitment of the same
hydraulic compression stops that feature
on the Clio, and a 271kg weight drop.
In real-world driving, the R hardly
seems any slower than the A45. That’s
partly because of the incredible, airboat-
style on-throttle whoosh from the
exhaust and the scratchy, short-throw
shift action, which make it considerably
more visceral. It’s also partly because
the Mercedes comes nowhere near to
producing its claimed 0-100km/h time of
4.6sec unless you engage Race Start. But
mostly it’s down to the power-to-weight
ratio, which puts the Renault only a
modest 15kW/tonne behind its rival.
After 20 minutes, the Renault’sfunctional prowess has me almost head
over heels for it. Twenty minutes on,
though, I start to have reservations. Even
though the air outside is temperate, the
blower’s full force is insufficient to stop
the interior from becoming unbearably
stuffy. Alongside this discomfort is the
fear of either sitting on or getting clouted
by the heavy-buckled race harness.
Above it all is the ever-present noise
commotion. Not so much from the
engine bay but from half a dozen vortices
passing unchecked through the bodywork.
It isn’t just the volume that grates. It’s
the inescapable nature of it – no radio
to turn up, no phone call to make, just
unending white noise. Unlike in the A45
where time passes unnoticed, you count
the minutes in a Trophy-R. After another
20 of them I decide I’d sooner lose 10kg
from my own weight than not re-spec the
air-con and infotainment. That not being
an option at the following pit stop, I do
the next best thing and roll into Blyton
aboard the mollycoddling Mercedes.
The sun is out the next morning and
it remains so all day. It’s good news for
the Renault. Had it been raining, the
tyres would have doomed it to a pastingIf the Trophy-R is not something to relish
on the track, then the game is up
62 march 2015 motormag.com.au