MM Retro-Review: 1979 Renault 5 LeCar
11-23-18, 05:45 PM
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MM Retro-Review: 1979 Renault 5 LeCar
I usually do reviews on new vehicles, but, given how quirky the Renault 5 (LeCar) was to the average American driver at the time, and, given the fact that my brother, at the time, owned one, brand-new, for a few years, I thought I'd do a write-up, and share some of the things that this car did very well, and its notorious quirks and failings. I know that the forum membership is mostly of a younger readership-base, but some of you (like me) are, no doubt, old enough to remember this quaint little vehicle.
First, I apologize for the limited range of good images I was able to find and post (I'll post more as I find them) ....this was long before I had my cell-phone camera, and good images of the standard (non-Alpine) LeCar interiors and dash are quite difficult to find. My brother had a very light-green color 1979 R5 (actually, a close to a metallic green-silver) with black vinyl seating and interior. It was pretty much a standard-trim model, except for an accessory, (dealer-installed) three-spoke racing-type steering wheel that replaced the standard oversize wheel and its big two-spoke center-bar. I don't remember exactly how much he paid for it, or if our late parents helped him out with part of the bill....he had only been out of high school a few years, was working part-time, and had not built up a very big bank account. But, he fell in love with this car, and was like a kid with a new toy...and it was obviously not an expensive car that would completely eat up the family's budget. In our town, at the time, Renault sales were not a direct independent franchise-dealership per se, but through a shop called Loy's Automotive, a place that sold and serviced several different new and used European makes (including Saab, if my memory is correct).
At the time, the diminutive Renault 5 differed from the more or less standard FWD practice in small car design of having the engine mounted transversely. The R5 in-line-4 engine, in non-Alpine versions, was mounted longitudinally, well-back in the engine, with the the close-ratio, non-overdrive 4-speed manual transmission mounted in front of the engine. This allowed the real spare tire/wheel (no fakes or donuts in those days) to be carried under the hood as well. The manual-prop hood, like on most French-designed cars of the period, was hinged in front, and opened at the back. The lack of an underhood insulation-blanket contributed to an already-loud engine and lack of noise-control. Seven different engines, worldwide, were offered on that first-generation version of the R5, but I think (not totally sure) that my brother had the non-turbo 1-3L.
The original LeCar had been introduced to the U.S. in 1972, and held on until 1984. Later versions had a different dash design and square sealed-beam headlights instead of the original round ones. In the latter 1980s, of course, Renault itself packed up and left the American market, taking its new vehicles with it...a victim of the reputation of its American-market cars for poor reliability, quirky designs, and hard-to-get parts. Loy's Automotive, where my brother had bought the car, soldiered on for a few more years with the repair and service of used cars, and itself went out of buisness....perhaps when Mr. Loy retired. High-performance turbo RWD versions of the LeCar (Alpine) were offered, but they were completely different animals, and not even in the same league as the FWD bread-and-butter version.
The car was diminutive on the outside, though its clean, uncluttered styling, boxy space-efficiency, large windows for good visibility, and tall roofline for good headroom is something that small-car manufacturers could learn from today. The light greenish-silver metallic paint job, though, showed its low cost....it was evenly-applied, but tended to chip very easily and show stains/smudges/dirt like a sore thumb. The relatively simple-worded Owners' Manual that came wth the car said not to use highly-abrasive cleaner-waxes...but I knew that was B.S., that a good cleaner/wax was needed to get the deep dirt and stains out (SCRATCH-OUT, as I recall, had not been invented yet). My brother and I had an argument about that.....He wanted to go by the book, with only pure wax, and I knew it was safe to use a good cleaner/wax. As it was his car, I respected his wishes.....until the front end of the car finally got so grungy-looking with chips and stains that I took some of my cleaner/wax and made it at least look presentable. We had no more finish-related arguments after that. The stamped-steel wheels were held on by only three lug-nuts instead of the more common four or five, though this car was so small and light that it probably didn't put much stress on the wheels or tires. The sunroof was a simple piece of fabric that was hinged and flipped up, back, and folded with a lever/handle....you couldn't do it while the car was moving at any significant speed, because the wind would rip it right out of your hands and possibly damage it.
Inside, though, especially on the dash was where the car was perhaps its quirkiest. First, especially on the earlier models, the trim level was so stark it could have almost passed as a military-grade vehicle, though my brother had ordered the optional three-spoke racing-type wheel, which gave it a little touch of class...it was small-diameter and had an extremely thick leather rim, thick enough that my big hands could barely grab around it. The French, at that time, demanded Cush-Tush seats, even on small inexpensive cars, and the LeCar delivered. Its tall, high-back seats were stuffed as soft as a Teddy-Bear, with pure foam mounted over the metal frames....no metal springs in the seats as we know them. Sitting on them, like in the more expensive French Peugeots and Citroens, was like being on a living room sofa. The only problem was that the seat-mounts, like much of the rest of the interior hardware, were junk. Within a year or so, the mounts had stated to loosen and cause the driver's seat to rock back and forth...but, as most vehicle warranties back then were only 1 year/12,000 miles, my brother felt it wasn't worth the hassle and (probable) expense of getting the whole assembly replaced. So, the seat just got looser and looser, and finally fell completely off....we drove around with a big piece of wood in the back seat, jammed up against the back of the front seat, holding it in place LOL. How it passed Virginia State Inspection like that beats me, but I didn't ask any questions.
Once you got in and braced yourself on the seat, you were treated to a dash and controls that could drive the average American driver of the period nuts. Put the key in the ignition (which was way over on the left, like on a Porsche), and a small green square on the dash, with the word "Key" on it, would light up and do nothing else...perhaps it was a warning not to leave it in the dash, and take it with you? Need to honk the horn? There was absolutely nothing on the steering wheel for it, as you had to push in on the end of the turn-signal stalk (Ford adopted that design for a few years, and got rid of it after customer complaints). Signal for either a left or right turn with the stalk, and a long, narrow green square lit up with double-green arrows at each end that flashed in BOTH directions at once (Go figure). Need to turn on the lights?.....You had to flick the lever just a certain way (or was it a twist?...I don't remember which). High beams were controlled by a small foot pedal all the way on the left. It was easy to turn the lights off at night if you weren't careful with the lever, or flicked it the wrong way. A small rocker-switch for the wipers stuck out from a pod on the right side of the wheel....right smack in line where your hand typically reaches for things in the middle of the dash, like air-vents or *****. Both me and my brother were constantly bumping the switch and running the wiper-arms once across the dry windshield, abrading the blades and glass. Some of the trim inside was was simply bare painted metal, wth hard-plastic inserts. You sat so tall in the seats (especially when the seats were braced properly LOL) that you actually reached down to the lever for the 4-speed transmission. Using the controls in French cars of that period, you gain an understanding of where the term "Gall" came from LOL.
On the road, however, the car was a little more pleasant (once you put away thoughts of being in an accident)....though, in the winter, just getting the engine started in really cold weather could be a hassle. My brother and I (and our father, too) had another argument over the engine oil....my brother insisted on using thick 20W-50 oil, which was fine in the summer, but was like molasses in the winter. We had to jump-start it several times when the temperature went down below about 15 or 20F, simply because the engine wouldn't crank, though that could (?) have also been the French ignition system and battery as well. My brother said the mechanics at Loy's were telling him to use the 20W-50 year around, but I wasn't convinced. Once started, though, the engine had a feature I liked...a manual-choke ****, which, IMO, was head and shoulders over the miserable automatic chokes on the carburetors of the period (some of them with electronic-loop-feedback). Those automatic chokes and butterfly-valves often either over-choked or under-choked, giving the engine too much or too little fuel, or too fast or too slow an idle. Typical, on a cold start, for those automatic chokes, was the mixture going to full-rich on start-up and normal fast-idle, smooth engine operation for the first half-mile or so, and then almost constant stumbles/hesitation until the engine was fully-warm, because the automatic choke would lean the mixture out too quickly and cut the fast-idle off because of emission-demands. The LeCar's manual choke avoided much of that nonsense, because you could pull it out or push it in as conditions demanded, to keep the engine running smoothly all the way during warm-up. Most people, though, didn't want to fool with choke-levers, so they were not in widespread use in the American market. Somehow, the LeCar managed to pass EPA 1979 emissions standards with the manual choke.
The engine had an adequate amount of power for most normal driving..its HP and torque ratings were low, but the car itself was also very light. It made a lot of nasal-sounding noise (almost like a whining sound), though, from the car's thin body and lack of sound insulation. The clutch pedal operated fairly smoothly...and this was in the days before hydraulic clutches, where clutch pedals could be somewhat jumpy. The 4-speed manual transmission shifted fairly well, but the linkage felt quite rubbery, especially compared to the crisp Toyota and Honda linkages of the period. Without an overdrive gear, even the top 1-to-1 ratio 4th gear produced a lot of engine RPMs and buzz at highway speeds, though the engine was small enough, and the car light enough, that it still got pretty good gas mileage.
Its road manners, once under way, were typical French, though much noisier than in more expensive Peugeots and Citroens. That meant a very soft ride for a car of that size/weight/wheelbase, which came not only from the soft Cream-of-Wheat suspension, long suspension travel up and down, sophisticated multi-stage European shock-absorbers, but also from the fact that the tall, thin, high-profile tires of the period actually had some RUBBER in the sidewalls....they didn't practically ride on the rims like today's tires do. That also offered a lot of pothole-impact protection for the tires and wheels. And the downside of the super-soft underpinnings and relatively tall center of gravity? Yep, you guessed it....Roly-Poly handling. The car would heel over like a beach ball (though safely) during anything more than mild cornering. One of the auto magazines at the time (can't remember if it was Car & Driver or Road & Track), made a remark, during an economy-car comparison test, that the Renault 5 corners better on its door handles than some of the other cars wth practically no lean at all. I don't remember any problems with the brakes or brake pedal, and the brakes themselves were quite small, but so was the car and the amount of weight it had to stop.
So, all in all, an interesting but quirky small car. My brother loved it in spite of its quirks...just as I had loved by earlier (used) big Buick in college even though it was worn out and had some reliability problems. We both learned a lot from its ownership, though.
Last edited by mmarshall; 11-23-18 at 06:19 PM.
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