Original thinking is sadly lacking in superminis, reckons Gavin Green
My grandpa taught me never to look back. Don’t cry over spilt beer, he used to say (he was an Aussie). A blunt-talking man, he once caught me grieving over the family dog, which had recently died. ‘When you’re dead, you’re dead. Crying isn’t going to bring the dog back.’ (Australians have a more earthy relationship with their hounds than dog-doting Brits. In the Australian outback, when your dog is ill, you don’t take it to the vet. You lead it outside and shoot it.)
I thought of my grandpa at the recent Geneva Motor Show. Yet another great old name from the small car hall of fame had been exhumed and made all shiny and 21C. I thought the Renault Twingo was dead. After Geneva, I wish it still were.
The all-new Twingo, shown at Geneva, does not do justice to the original. By borrowing much of the seating gymnastics and cabin functionality that so distinguished its forebear, it’s cleverer than many of the dreary little tin boxes offered by rivals. But it doesn’t raise the game like the old one did. It’s essentially the old Twingo’s appealing bag of tricks in a fatter, longer, less distinguished body. Renault isn’t innovating like it did a few years back (think Espace, think Scenic, think latest Megane). Its créatuer d’automobiles spirit seems to be extinguished as Renault reacts to customer demand rather than leads it.
Meanwhile, the latest version of the Mini is a marketing miracle, winning buyers from San Francisco to Shanghai. The upwardly mobile like its cheeky retro-ish style and the premium BMW family connections. It’s a fine and entertaining premium small car and in Cooper S trim, at any rate, it’s a hoot to drive. But it’s not a Mini (it isn’t even that small). The old real Mini was a brilliant engineering achievement, studded with originality and masterful thinking. It was also fabulous value. The new one innovates in absolutely no way whatsoever, apart from its marketing. I just wish BMW had done something – anything – that would have put a sparkle in old Alec Issigonis’s eye.
The dead dog though, which most deserves to stay in its grave, is the New Beetle. It’s just an old Golf clothed in a retro Beetle-esque body that robs headroom, interior space and general dynamics. All so some dewy-eyed nostalgist can think wistfully of ‘60s Flower Power and Herbie Rides Again.
So the latest versions of three of the greatest names in the history of the small car – vehicles that were bywords for originality – have no step-ahead engineering solutions. And small cars need to innovate. Never has the cry for revolution been more necessary! Small cars should be leading the charge. Instead, too often we get opportunism rather than originality.
Mind you, I suspect I may like the new Fiat Cinquecento, due in the autumn. Though I wish it were called something different (misty eyed nostalgia again!), it is a production version of the inspired Trepiuno concept car, first shown at the 2004 Geneva Show. It promises to be cute, clever and good value. While you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, I suppose it’s okay to give a new dog an old name.