Joie de Vivre Instead of Ennui: We Test the 1976 Renault 17 Gordini

From the August 1976 issue of Car and Driver.

I’m old enough to remember driving the Dauphine, so serious contemplation of any vehicle carrying a Renault label brings a certain anguish. That rectangular little nightmare was pressed into the unwitting hands of over two million customers between its introduction in 1956 and its merciful cancellation in 1968, and there are still Americans who can be brought to the edge of hysterics at the mere mention of the car. Even the fanatical chauvenism of the French gave way to the Dauphine’s realities. Edouard Seidler, whose book The Romance of Renault was a serenade to the marvels of the Billancourt firm, stumbled against the hard truth of the Dauphine, he wrote: “It was essentially a French car quality-wise...ideal for 5000 miles a year on French roads but incapable of 16,000 miles in the less favorable driving conditions often found abroad, particularly in the United States.”

Yes, its Frenchness—abetted by a chaotic dealer organization, inefficient spare parts distribution and feeble performance from its tiny, rear-mounted four-cylinder engine—made the Dauphine a legend among bad automobiles.

Regie Nationale des Usines Renault, however, is one of the world’s oldest (1898) and most honored automobile manufacturers. During the early years, founder Louis Renault and family produced superb sports and luxury machines before turning, in the 1930s, to the sale of prosaic, middle-class sedans for the masses. Then in 1945, poor old Louis, a suspected Nazi collaborator, died shortly after being released from prison, and the company was nationalized. It took nearly 20 years—and the agony of the Dauphine—before the physical and spiritual devastation of World War II was corrected.

Happily, Renault is back in business with its old French passion. The past seven years have seen the introduction of a superb new generation of front-wheel-drive sedans: the Renault 12 in 1969, the 15/17 series in ‘71, the R5 in 1972 and the R20 and 30 model lines within the last year. With these has come erasure of the bad memories of the 1950s and ‘60s and a new sense of purpose within the company, not only in solid products but also in adventurous forays into endurance racing and even Formula One competition.

The most exciting development for Americans is the Renault 17 Gordini, a muscular version of the regular four-seat, two-door 15/17 series that may be the best value in sporting machinery available in America. With a price tag under $7000, the Gordini provides power, speed, quality, and handling generally unknown in automobiles costing less than $10,000. Its smooth, easy-revving 1647cc, single-overhead-cam, four-cyl­inder engine pumps out a lusty 90 horse­power, thanks to a higher compression ratio and electronic fuel injection. The ef­ficiency of its induction system permits the Gordini to operate without a catalytic converter (though premium gasoline is required), which further enhances per­formance and keeps mileage in the 22-24 mpg range.

You might fault the car for its styling­—like the Chevrolet Monza, its essentially pleasing lines are nullified by a cloying sense that the body is two inches too narrow and sits just a bit too tall on its wheels to be truly pretty. Other niggling complaints can be generated as well: The dash panel is an inkwell of black vi­nyl, punctured by deep instrument cavi­ties that make some of the dials difficult to read; it has a less-than-perfect driving position, at least for six-footers (the throttle is angled so you have to con­sciously bend your foot at the ankle to maintain cruising speed); and the prosa­ic, oversize steering wheel is the same one employed on the Renault 12.

But these failings fade in the face of the Gordini’s truly invigorating behavior on the road. (For history buffs, the Gordi­ni name refers to the French specialty-­car firm operated by Amédée Gordini in the 1950s. In addition to the campaign­ing of successful Grand Prix and sports/racing cars, Gordini produced a modified version of the Dauphine. As an employ­ee of Renault, his name has become symbolic of the firm’s involvement with high-performance production cars.) And the 17 Gordini is certainly one GT car that delivers what its prestigious name­plate implies.
In all too many cases, a fine engine like the Gordini’s is hooked to an awful gearbox that destroys both efficiency and driving pleasure. Quite the opposite is true here. The Renault’s five-speed is a marvel of smooth linkages and pre­cisely placed ratios. Coupled to a firm but forgiving clutch, it is a delight, either in fuming downtown jams or hard runs through winding back roads.

Being a front-wheel-drive automobile, the Gordini has certain endemic limitations, but Renault has done a good job in shielding the driver from them. The heavy, low-speed steering is still present (hence the big wheel), and there are traces of torque steer when accelerating out of tight corners. Conscientious de­velopment of the suspension (front and rear stabilizer bars; wider, steel-belted radial tires) cannot totally eliminate the final understeer that marks all front­-wheel-drive automobiles. Nevertheless, the neat balance of engine, gearbox, and brakes produces a machine that is a pleasure to drive in all situations. On more than one occasion we undertook effortless 100-mile journeys with four adults at cruising speeds of 75 mph. The completion of the trips inevitably left ev­erybody puzzling over two questions:
1. why can’t all cars be this efficient?, and 2. is this car really French?

There is a certain perverse justifica­tion to the second question when you consider the long Gallic tradition of deliv­ering plastic whackies to these shores. Based on misadventures with cars like the Dauphine and the Peugeot 403, Americans have come to accept French automobiles as weird, flimsy devices with praying-mantis suspensions, poly­styrene interiors and hand-grenade en­gines. To recall Monsieur Seidler’s words once again, these were “essen­tially French cars, quality-wise,” with all of the attendant ways of institutionalizing otherwise sane automotive enthusiasts. Not so with the new-generation Re­naults. In fact, anyone with built-in preju­dices about French cars will find the Gordini a revelation. This is one solid piece of machinery, devoid of the gim­mickry that plagued its forebears. The coachwork matches all but the most carefully buttoned-up luxury cars, and af­ter several months of hard bashing over all sorts of highways, not a single nut or bolt on our Gordini came loose. Regard­less of the weather, which included ev­erything from sub-zero snowstorms to balmy spring days, the car operated flawlessly, virtually without complaint.

Renault is definitely on to something and, thanks to a range of high-value products, increased company morale and renewed efforts to beef up its Amer­ican distribution and dealer situation, it figures to significantly increase its Amer­ican presence in the near future. If that means more cars like the superb Re­nault 17 Gordini, that’s nothing but good news.