The Renault Clio V6 is the sort of car that you might doodle on the back of a napkin, complete with the following instructions: take a humdrum supermini; chuck out the rear seats and replace them with a 255 bhp, 3.0-liter V6; insert a six-speed gearbox and connect the drive to the rear wheels; then modify the body with some childbearing hips, titanium air intakes and 18-inch alloys.
Now in its second generation, the Clio V6 really is an extraordinary car. The pictures, while dramatic in isolation, cannot convey the drama of the shape in the metal. This car is just 151 inches long and 72 inches wide and yet every surface bulges with unapologetic aggression.
The shoulders, which appear to grow organically from the window line, unite the blistered wheel arches and house a gaping air intake. They also flow harmoniously into a strident rear bumper that frames a pair of chromed exhaust pipes. The nose benefits massively from the Clio's recent facelift, which replaced soft curves with more strident, chisel-edged headlamps. The overall effect is homogeneous and unmistakable - you'll need a Lamborghini Murcielago to turn more heads.
Renault reckons that customers for the #27,000 ($42,390) V6 will also have a couple of supercars in their air-conditioned garage. Its marketing gurus also believe that this clientele demands a certain level of luxury. This helps to explain why the V6 has a complicated climate control system, electric windows and mirrors and a CD autochanger, even though they contribute significantly to its mass, which, at 3086 pounds, is considerable.
This hefty midriff undermines the potential of a 2946cc engine that produces 255 bhp at 7150 rpm and 221 lb-ft of torque at 4650 rpm. With most of the mass over the rear wheels, there's abundant traction and the Renault reaches 60 mph in 5.8 seconds on its way to 153 mph. In isolation, these figures are impressive and it sounds terrific, but they're no match for the cheaper Mitsubishi Evo VIII or a Vauxhall VX220 Turbo.
The combination of a mid-mounted engine and a short (99.7 in.) wheelbase is hardly the ideal basis for benign handling and the original racecars span faster than a Presidential adviser. For the road-going version, the engineers retuned the setup and dialed in an armful of understeer. Indeed, at moderate speeds, the V6 feels little different to a 172 bhp front-drive Clio. Push harder though, and the laws of physics take a firmer grip on the car's dynamics.
Lift off abruptly mid-bend and the rear will make a determined bid to overtake the front. In the wet or on a loose surface power oversteer is also a regular companion. It sounds like great fun, but catching it is made difficult by the absurdly ponderous steering, which also lacks feel.
Anyone expecting the Clio to be a raucous road racer will be disappointed. Instead the Renault hopes to score with its sonorous soundtrack, lary looks and sheer novelty value. It's a poseurs' car, par excellence.