Rarer than a Ferrari F40, cheaper than a Dacia Spring, and more fun than any modern offering It’s not every day someone presents you with the opportunity to buy one of Renaultsport’s finest hot hatchbacks , but that’s exactly what happened in summer 2024 when my neighbour offered me first refusal on his Clio 182 Trophy. I’d been umming and ahhing about swapping my Rover Mini Cooper for something less rusty and more usable for some time. It was more than 30 years old and was in need of some costly bodywork repairs to rid it of some persistent corrosion. I had therefore reached a bit of a crossroads and was left with two choices: deal with the rust, or cut my losses and put it up for sale. My mind was soon made up when my neighbour offered me the Clio, and while I was reluctant to part with my first car, I knew I would have been name-called by my car-mad colleagues if I’d have turned down. So the Mini went to a new home and I’m now the owner of Trophy no.318. It’s by no means a concours example: the alloys are crustier than a stale baguette, some of the paint has faded and the steering wheel is very worn. There’s also a lingering damp smell, which has somewhat abated after strapping an army of Little Trees to the dashboard. It’s also riding on Cup suspension as opposed to the factory-fit and super-trick Sachs dampers. The previous owner took them off to have them refurbished so they’re effectively brand new and ready to be bolted on. Even with 20 years and 94,000 miles under its belt, it’s still the same free-revving, lightweight and fun hot hatch that made it so popular among enthusiasts in the mid-2000s. With a bit of care and attention, and hopefully not too much cash, I hope to return it to its former glory. Sachs appeal Refitting the Trophy with its original Sachs remote reservoir dampers was on the top of my to-do list as soon as I’d taken delivery of it. The previous owner used the car as a daily driver and had fitted it with Cup suspension, finding these more forgiving on our unkempt roads. Thankfully, he held onto the original dampers, though they were in a sorry state. Having succumbed to heavy corrosion by the time they were removed, he sent them to Sachs specialist BG Motorsport for a full refurb before selling the car to me. The race-bred Sachs are serious bits of kit. The auxiliary oil and gas reservoir is attached to the side of the strut, allowing more room inside for the thicker, stiffer damper rod to travel. They cost 10 times more than the Cup items and transformed the ride and handling of the Clio 182. Keen to get them back on the car, I paid a visit to Diamond Motors in Nottingham, where Mick had them fitted quicker than I could say 'do you do a discount?'. The drive home was a revelation. Given that the car was now lower and stiffer, I assumed it would be caught out by potholes and sharp edges, but the dampers are so sophisticated they shrugged off bumps or imperfection with ease. The steering is scalpel-sharp and the front-end bite is simply off the charts. It rolls significantly less now, imbuing the Trophy with a taut, agile character through quick direction changes. With the Sachs dampers back on, it's easy to see why the Trophy got so much praise from testers. Dynamically, my car is now right where it should be. 3000 miles in my Mazda MX-5: a roadster for life, not just summer Electrical gremlins spoil the party After a road trip through Wales some months ago, I parked the car on my driveway for some well earned rest. But when I returned to it the following weekend about to embark on a three hour drive up to my parents, my trusty Clio had a total meltdown. I unlocked the car and opened the door, but for reasons I’m not sure even a Reanult engineer would be able to explain, the alarm wouldn’t stop going off. I tried locking and unlocking the car again on the fob; I disconnected the battery; I even took to an online forum as a last cry for help, but the alarm persisted to ring out. Much to my relief it eventually stopped and I reconnected the battery to see if there was any life in it. There wasn’t even a flicker of light on the dash so I knew it wouldn’t start. I called my breakdown provider to see if they would come and fit a new battery, but just when I thought there was hope, the operator asked how old my car was. “2005” I replied. “Sorry sir, your policy only covers cars up to 15 years old.” A train and my girlfriend's Volkswagen Polo carried me to my parents in the end, and when I returned to the Clio with tools and a new battery, I realised why it had gone flat. I’d left the very temperamental hazard warning lights on. In hindsight it was easily done because, being a French hatchback from the early noughties, the hazard lights don’t always flash up on the instrument cluster. With the fresh battery installed, the Trophy soon burst into life, but I don’t want to have any more encounters with the idiosyncrasies of a Reanult’s electronics anytime soon. The Clio has covered more than 3000 miles and I’m pleased to say that most of them have been on road trips and jaunts to car meets. Its most recent outing was to last year’s Britain’s Best Driver’s Car shootout at M-Sport’s test track in Cumbria where I reunited it with photographer Jack Harrison’s Toyota MR2, as both cars were former BBDC contenders in the early 2000s. Pleasingly my Clio now has a warm home in my parent’s garage and it will soon be off for its annual service. With a clean bill of health the Trophy should be ready for plenty more excursions in 2026.