However, it doesn’t go very far above and beyond that remit to conjure the qualities of bigger hatchbacks like the better city cars can. It doesn’t ride or handle well.
And, tellingly, you could drive it 150 miles without realising which axle was driven. Which is exactly how Renault wants it. You can be reassured by the handling of this car, but not really engaged or entertained by it.
The opportunity to produce a feelsome steering system, thanks to plenty of mechanical advantage and low weight on the front end, has largely been missed. There are almost four full turns between locks on the Twingo’s tiller; skinny five-inch-wide rims on the front axle too, as standard. But although you get fleeting snatches of contact patch feedback, there’s not quite enough of it to be worth noting.
Moreover, the hoped-for cornering balance of an even vaguely sporting rear-driven machine has been painstakingly engineered out, lest you happen to be a giddy 19-year-old who’d freeze at the very idea of it. The chassis develops only limited lateral grip at the front wheels, and the ESP intervenes very early before understeer is given the chance to morph into knee-jerk throttle-off oversteer.
The adhesive limit of the Twingo’s handling is easy to approach and defined absolutely by its front wheels. Early-onset understeer, managed by a sensitive ESP system, has been deemed a small price to pay to stop almost any chance of lift-off oversteer. Many would claim that’s an appropriate compromise for such a car. To us, though, a balanced, progressive and controllable chassis is always the safest and best option.