Man Maths: Renault 5 GT Turbo

What I remember best was it had the most incredible steering, so lucid, quick, linear and alive in your hands and no torque steer to speak of. The steering wheel was pretty damn cool too. It cornered absolutely flat – or so it seemed to me – while generating simply phenomenal levels of grip. I did the odd Goodwood track day in it and you’d not believe the kind of machinery it would go breezing past, just because it made you feel so confident driving it. And, unlike the early 205 GTIs, there were no nasty surprises if you overcooked it slightly and had to back out of a corner. It would tighten its line, shrug its hips, wait for your right foot to stand on the gas once more and rocket off towards the next corner.

But we all know how kind memory is, and its ability to edit and, if needed, rewrite history to suit whatever narrative is most convenient today. Which is why I had to dig deep into my memory to come up with a reason why it is such a good candidate for Man Maths, namely a car you want to buy but really shouldn’t. And you can probably guess what my excavations uncovered.

The only car I’ve ever owned that was built worse than my 5 GT Turbo was my 1981 Series 3 Lotus Esprit. It didn’t break down all the time like the Lotus, but bits used to break off the hard, smooth plastic interior with monotonous regularity. I was terrified of hitting anything in it because I expected it would exhibit all the structural integrity of a cheese soufflé if I did and despite the fact I got it with fewer than 10,000 miles on the clock, it already creaked and rattled like it had gone 10 times as far. And it wouldn’t start when it got hot, an issue only solved by a water-cooled turbo on the facelift car.

But what really did it for me was it locked me out with the keys inside and the engine running. I was at a service station and stepped out of the running car just, I think, to put something in a bin. And when the wind blew the door shut as easily as it might blow an empty packet of salt and vinegar across a forecourt, the central locking plipped and that was that. I’ll spare you my agonies but eventually I had to call the AA who got me mobile again through the simple expedient of taking a large screwdriver and even larger hammer and smashing through the boot lock.

So maybe they’re not such a good idea after all. And then I started looking at the classifieds. There are hardly any for sale in the UK (not surprising as there are only 220 taxed examples left, compared to 1200 205 GTIs) and if you go to Europe almost all are tuned, ex-race cars, lowered or in myriad other ways ruined. Those very few that look nice are up for around €20,000. And while I like the idea of having a 5 GT Turbo back in my life, I absolutely don’t like it that much.